#and he's also the mightiest warrior

[unexpectedstormy]

Attention Everyone

I love Linked Universe Sky. That is all.

[daemonhold]

damon’s preferred weapons to summon are pistols or knives. since they’re smaller, they’re faster to make use of in the heat of the moment. though, if you see him busting out a big sword or a shotgun, he’s angry or desperate.

[makoodles]

ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader 🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!

adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.

It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.

Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.

It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.

Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.

“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.

You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.

“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.

Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.

He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”

“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.

“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”

Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.

“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”

Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.

“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”

You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.

“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”

There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”

God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.

“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”

That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.

You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.

And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.

Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.

“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.

You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.

“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”

Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.

“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.

His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.

Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.

If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.

In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.

Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.

And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.

His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.

“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.

It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.

“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.

A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.

“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.

You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.

You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.

He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.

Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.

Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”

Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.

“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.

Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.

For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.

“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”

As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.

Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.

You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”

He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”

And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.

“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.

Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.

But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.

You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.

Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.

Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.

“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”

He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!

“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.

You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.

But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.

As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Problem?”

His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.

The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.

In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.

In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.

You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.

You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.

Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.

But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.

He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.

God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.

Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.

You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.

“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.

You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”

There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.

“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”

Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.

“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.

“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.

You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.

You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.

Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.

You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.

“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.

You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.

“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.

Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.

You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.

"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.

In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.

"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.

The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.

Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.

Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.

“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”

Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”

You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”

Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.

“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”

Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.

When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.

"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.

"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."

You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”

“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.

You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.

But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.

His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.

It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.

You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.

“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”

“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”

You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”

Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.

If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.

You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.

“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.

You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.

“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.

“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.

Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.

“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.

He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.

Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.

The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.

Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.

“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”

You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.

“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”

Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.

“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”

Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.

“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.

And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.

Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.

Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.

“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”

“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.

Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.

This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.

His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.

It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.

You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.

You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.

“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”

He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”

It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”

Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.

“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.

“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”

Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?

“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”

Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”

Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”

You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”

Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.

“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.

“Hey–”

As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.

Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.

Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.

You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.

“Tawtute?”

You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.

“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.

Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.

You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.

But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.

You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.

Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.

You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.

Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.

There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.

The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.

When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.

“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”

You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.

“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”

“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.

Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.

“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”

“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”

You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.

Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.

You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.

You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.

“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”

You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.

“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.

His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.

“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.

It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?

Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.

“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.

It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.

“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”

Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”

“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”

Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.

“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.

You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.

“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”

Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.

You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.

“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”

You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.

“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”

“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.

When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.

Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.

“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”

“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”

Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.

“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”

The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.

Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.

You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.

All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.

But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.

“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”

Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.

Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.

Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.

“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.

There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.

“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.

This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.

Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.

You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.

At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.

“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.

He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.

“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.

“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.

You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.

Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.

“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.

“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.

It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.

Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.

Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.

He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.

You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.

“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.

Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.

You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.

Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.

Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.

Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.

You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.

You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.

Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.

Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.

Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.

He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.

Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.

It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.

“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”

You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.

“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.

“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”

Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.

“Y-yes.” You say.

Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?

“How would you like me to–”

“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.

Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.

The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.

What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.

“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.

Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.

“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"

You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.

Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.

“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.

Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.

“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.

You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.

Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.

“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.

What the fuck?

[noroi1000]

can i request a reader x gojo royal au where gojo is the famous crown prince of an extremely powerful empire and reader is the famous yet infamous commander of the imperial knight who's known for their great looks and beauty and being unbeatable and ruthlessly powerful monster because they've never lost a battle no matter his powerful and/or big opponent is. for some person preferences abt the reader is that they're tall ( as gojo or nearly as him ) and 2-3 years older than him and because gojo n reader are like known as the strongest n deadliest duo , this also causes reader x gojo to be "shipped" which is one of the many reasons ppl think reader will be the future empress and gojo loves the reader a lot n reader does too , it's just they love him "lesser"(?) .

also if u write this and might add nsfw which is preferable as well but also ok if u don't. but if u write i'd prefer the reader to be the more dominant one.

Commander

Paring: prince Gojo Satoru x commander Fem reader (royal AU)

Cw: 3.1k

Tw:, violence, smut (overstimulation, blowjob, dom! reader, sub!Gojo, he is a good boy)

"Everyone at attention! Your commander is coming!"

All the people who served for the imperial army were terrified.

The word "commander is coming" is something the rookies especially didn't want to hear. They don't know the commander. They don't know what kind of person he will be.

Often the commander is a person with great experience in battles. "He" perfectly knows strategies and can manage all people. "He" must also be able to fight, and be at the highest level. Like the mightiest warrior among others who can fight.

Power cannot be attributed to the kingdom. Power, wealth, power. Respect of others. And also that the people adore the ruler, as well as the heir to the throne. In this kingdom, the best is for people. There are no cruel conditions. And all this invites travelers and merchants to come. They then make the kingdom richer.

And the more money there is that can be spent on defending and improving conditions, the better it is for people.

There can only be one mightiest warrior.

According to everyone, it can be.

The most powerful duo. It couldn't be.

According to other kingdoms, as well as the elders living within the borders themselves, the heir to the throne is the most powerful.

A person who intimidates an enemy with just a glance. Someone who, being on the battlefield when needed, has never been hurt. For example, when there is a chance that the opponent will surrender peacefully and peace should be made under conditions.

The reason for the lack of battle wounds and scars is how trained this man is to fight. And also that the person to be called the strongest is also the commander who does not leave the side of his ruler.

Someone considered a monster. A man who can single-handedly defeat a group of intimidating opponents. Including the most armed, largest and heaviest. Like a walking and killing lump of iron.

Anyone who heard about the stories must have been scared.

The new men who joined the troops were afraid of meeting the general.

They were often surprised.

There was one thing that happened every time the others were surprised. A few always had to resist. And then they humbly put their faces on the ground. Until the rest realized that the commander is no joke.

"Attention! nits! Don't embarrass me in front of the great commander!" shouted the commander of this detachment.

Hearing soft noises and footsteps, many people wanted to turn around and look.

Curiosity was the death of fools. It was doom. Even being in a place with people who are on the same side.

Even the curiosity about the commander and the look could become something that will determine the future.

You are placed above other squad leaders.

Many have not dared to look at the "monster" who commands them. For as long as they had the chance. They didn't look. They followed orders without hesitation. They all knew that dying at the hands of the enemy would be easier than pissing off the general and making their lives worse than dying.

As always, something happened that others can warn against. Not showing respect.

You steered your legs the way you always did. Forward without looking back. Paying no attention to the people who bowed to you and showed you respect.

You wanted one person to give you attention. Nobody from here. Someone you see every day, but it's still not enough.

You love how the crown prince holds you in his arms. Or you love how you can hold it.

You are the great commander. And also the commander of the squad that is supposed to guard his majesty.

No. You are a general, but you only appear on the battlefield. You command an elite protecting the most important people. You are not very famous as a person. You're famous for fighting. You have no say in political matters. Why? Because you're not a man…

You are a strategist for the prince and the emperor. You are so powerful that the kingdom's elite soldiers are nothing.

You rule troops and other commanders. However, you cannot show yourself to the elders because they will not recognize you as a true fighting leader.

You're tall, you can fight. But you have feminine shapes. And also beauty.

Everyone is afraid of you as a "monster" that destroys the enemy.

You are infamous as you. But everyone has heard of a monster that defeats opponents twice as large.

You are recognized as the commander of the Emperor's Guard. They have great respect for you. But as more than that, you can't say that.

Even though they know your strength, to most men in the entire military, you're just a woman. And they won't let you order them around.

Your beloved is called famous but infamous. There's nothing unpleasant about that.

That's why most don't know you as you. Everyone tells stories about an invincible person who has survived so many fights that it is impossible to count them. That this person is someone very powerful and terrible. They think that when you look at the commander, you can die.

You can do a lot. And you're not going to react to how others think of you. Let them think what they want. Those who don't know you will live in fear of you. Those who get to know you will either accept it or not. They may die in combat. Or learn a lesson from you if they piss you off too much.

You sighed as you walked forward.

"Toru… You don't know how much I wish I was with you right now and not here…" You groaned as you looked up at the sky that reminded you so much of his eyes.

You saw a group of people standing at attention.

You were supposed to go to them… Why exactly you… Anyone else could have given the squad commander a place to guard the boundaries…

You were supposed to go to the throne room today. To your Satoru. You've known each other almost since you were little.

From the beginning of your acquaintance, they say that you will be the future empress.

That's what Satoru says, just like his father. And also everyone around.

Ignoring the slightly bowing people to your left, you gave the squad leader a message about where to go.

Everything was supposed to be so easy. As soon. If only one person didn't answer.

"What the hell is that?! This is supposed to be the strongest commander? That famous commander? I will not serve under a woman!"

"Begins…" you thought and rolled your eyes.

"You have no right to undermine the position of someone above you!" shouted the commander next to you.

Out of many other commanders, he is the one who has the most respect for you. A middle-aged man, he may be getting old, but you have nothing against him. A man trained as a samurai is someone you could show respect to. However, you are on friendly terms.

If everything ended now, you'd be with Satoru in half an hour.

But apparently you need to deal with the asshole. Because he just pisses you off. There's nothing else you can do. You like your position. And also that you can see how people like them must be lower than you. That you can be next to Satoru and they have to bow down.

You turned to look at everyone. Most of them didn't meet your eyes. Not even on you.

"Whoever said that, step down!" you said loudly, waiting for him to appear in front of you.

The squad leader ordered everyone else to move away. Because he knew what was about to happen.

As one man stood in the middle, you adjusted your hair as well as loose clothing.

You never wear armor. If you put something on, it's only on your forearms and knees.

Same now.

Plus, Satoru made you wear something he likes on you. And armor is not his dream sight.

And since you are his guard, he chose the clothes for you. The imperial guard stands out from

You jumped off the platform and stood three meters in front of him.

"Give him a weapon. A sword, a spear. Whatever." you said resting your wrist on the katana by your side.

You can't walk around unarmed.

"If you win against me, you will take my place as commander of the Emperor's guard." You said dismissively.

The commander behind you was already grabbing his head, thinking about preparing a stretcher to take a man who could soon be dead.

You thought the one standing in front of you was disgusting in his own way. About your height, which is tall. A head with unwashed black hair, a neglected face with stubble on it.

You don't know if you're the only one in this group who thinks he's disgusting.

Honestly, you wouldn't want to touch someone that dirty.

You have nothing against dirt and blood. However, sweat and dirt sticking to it repel you. You feel like you're about to cringe just thinking about the smell.

Satoru never smells like that. He's quite different from this man.

Would you let someone like that stand by Satoru's side?

You closed the distance between you.

"Draw your sword. Whoever makes the deadly move first wins. Cutting off the opponent's limbs also wins." You said calmly.

Next to you, the commander stopped counting, and suddenly gave a shout to start.

Swinging in your direction, the guy didn't feel his hands drop the sword through the pain, and there was a blade at his neck.

You only used the blunt part of the sword to disarm him. You didn't think it would be this easy.

Another shout of the older man next to him signaled the end of the "duel".

"That's why you have no right to challenge my position. You're a piece of shit that can't hold a sword long enough." You turned around and started walking towards the path leading to the emperor's mansion. To the palace where you can finally meet your Satoru.

You heard some screams behind you. You turned sideways to notice the light reflecting off the metal sword as the blade got closer and closer to your face.

You ducked away. You hit the blunt part of your sword against the front of his knees.

You straightened up and sheathed your sword.

The guy behind you fell on his face crying in pain.

"His bones fell out of joints. Adjust it and it will be better." you said ignoring his crying.

Standing in front of the sliding door, you waited for them to let you in.

"Gojo-sama. Commander of the imperial troops , (y/n) (l/n), came." You heard them inform him.

Hold back a smile just hearing his voice.

"(y/n)? Let her in quickly." he said.

You walked inside, watching him as he sat on the soft mat.

"Everyone leave right now." he waved his hand, throwing everyone out of the room.

As the door closed behind you, you smiled at him.

He extended his hand to you, inviting you closer.

You quickly walked over to him and jumped into his lap, cuddling up to his arm.

"Bunch of idiots… Satoru… I don't want to waste my time like this anymore…"

"So you will stay with me all the time. What do you think?" he asked wrapping his arms around you.

"What about my job?"

"You still work but next to me. It's the same." He chuckled.

"You're right."

"Do you know… My father said he wanted to give you a different, more enjoyable job."

"What?" You asked, holding onto his clothes as he maneuvered your thighs so you could hug him tighter.

"Be my empress."

"…That again…" you groaned. You don't know if you're ready for this. But that would really be the best.

"What? You're so strong and beautiful."

A slight blush appeared on your cheeks.

"And you're so cute when you blush." He grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

There's something else you love about this filtering, handsome prince…

His face when he submits to you in everything. And also that he allows you to be the one who dominates him.

"You're cute too, Satoru." You said smiling.

You suddenly wrapped your thighs around his waist and squeezed tight.

Also settling more firmly on his crotch.

He grunted blushing.

"(y/n)…"

You felt his muscles tense. He grabbed your hips and started to get up.

"Do you think I can't get up like this?" he asked, smiling smugly.

"Try it if you really want to."

You gripped his arms tighter.

You're not that small. You are high. Higher than anyone could have expected.

The prince is very tall. Over 190 centimeters. And you're less than 10 centimeters shorter than him. There's not much of a height difference between you two.

Anyone these days would say that a woman must be beautiful to her husband and submit to him.

But nobody told you that Satoru is so cute when he moans for you. And you weren't told that the crown prince is such a sweet boy when he does what you tell him to do.

"You're so strong…" you murmured, whispering in his ear.

He walked a few meters to his feet and laid you down on the bed.

"To you I am strong. As are you to me. My little commander."

You smiled as he ran his fingers lightly down your thighs.

"Be a good boy and lie down next to me, okay?" You patted the spot on the bed.

"I am your prince. Shouldn't I be ordering you around?" He smiled and his body pulled at you

"oh yeah. You're my prince, but you're cute when you do what I tell you. And you also know that my orders are good for you. Also, remember I'm older." You showed him the spot on the bed again.

"Two years isn't much, you know that, right?"

He moved closer and suddenly laid down next to you.

"But you listened to me. You like it. Now lie down. I'll work on you a bit."

You sat on his lap, already rocking your hips.

You can already tell it's getting hard. After all, he really liked it when you called him a good boy.

You know he's big. Sometimes that's an exaggeration. But you're doing great. You can even destroy it. You know the ways to make him moan and cry for you. He looks so sweet then.

You noticed him staring at your chest.

"Do you want to get it off of me?" You asked looking into his eyes.

He smiled and nodded.

"I'll let you if you promise to show me how good you are."

He stared at you for a moment before nodding his head blushing. He knew what you meant.

You stopped moving your hips, helping him get your clothes off well.

You promised him something, so even the fact that he groaned sadly when he lost the friction didn't stop him from having fun.

You promised him that whatever was pleasant for you would also be pleasant for him.

By the time you sat completely naked on his hips again, he was completely hard.

"You're perverted. What are you imagining?"

"How you ride me. How you moan. How you come."

"We'll see who comes."

You grabbed all the layers of his clothes and pushed them away until you had perfect access to his throbbing cock.

You got off of him, settling between his legs. You touched the inside of his thigh, signaling him to spread his legs more.

Then you wrapped one hand around its base, lazily dragging your fingers higher and higher.

His chest began to rise faster and faster as you placed your fingers on either side of his cock, already under the head. You lightly squeezed and massaged.

Holding it that way, you leaned in, licking the base of it and placing a kiss on his testicles. Hearing his moan made you feel a pleasant shiver down your legs.

You ran your tongue along the vein running by the side of his penis, all the way to the tip where you sucked mercilessly, causing him to moan further.

You pulled away seeing a drop of pre-sperm appear on the tip of it, slowly dripping down its tip.

You put your thumb on his cleft.

Without looking at his contorted face in a grimace, you only listened to his moans.

Especially when you started petting him quickly, adding kisses on his head.

"(y-y/n)… I… I'm going to cum…" he groaned breathlessly. His hips twitched, pushing his length into your hands.

As his breathing quickened even more, you pulled away from him. Almost seeing him cry as his orgasm left him.

"Just a moment. Be patient for a while." You said reassuringly.

You got up to kneel over him.

You swung one leg over his hips and used two fingers to align his cock with your entry.

When you were sure he wouldn't come the moment he entered you, you plopped down on top of him quickly, keeping him inside without moving.

Letting your pussy squeeze and suck him in.

You've also gotten used to stretching. It's not over today.

You rolled your hips a few times, and the moment he threw his head back and gasped, you lifted your hips, leaving him without touch. Again.

Before he could say anything, you placed his length over his stomach and pressed your bottom lips against his circumference, driving your hips back and forth.

His soft grunts and moans didn't escape so your ears couldn't hear them. You heard everything and lived his pleasure.

"I'm–"

Before he could finish, you took his cock and rubbed the head against your clit.

"Cum." you ordered.

His cock twitched and white semen flowed out of the slit, hitting your clit. You let him go, watching him shoot at his stomach and even his chest.

He put his hand over his eyes as he breathed to calm himself down and get off the high.

When he was done, you grabbed his softening cock and gave him a few push-ups, making sure he was done.

You rubbed the wet tip a few times, hearing your prince hiss from overstimulation.

Unfortunately, this is just the beginning.

You guided him to your entrance with both hands, stopping his softening. He was going to harden now.

He moaned loudly as your pussy stretched over him, grabbing him and pulling him deeper inside.

He grabbed your thighs, showing his completely red face.

"Give me a moment…" he moaned, holding you still.

You moved your hips slightly, testing him. He tilted his head back.

You ran your fingers over his chest muscles, collecting white droplets before putting your fingers in your mouth.

"This time we'll come together. Hands above your head. Let me work on you. The more you obey, the less you will wait for rest."

[waitingforsecretsouls]

Maedhros resenting or at the least not particularly respecting Fingolfin is actually kind of important to me, for both of their characters. I feel people tend to gloss over the fact that Fingolfin basically threatened the Fëanorians (Maedhros brothers and people, much as fanon sometimes likes to ignore this-) with civil war ("No love was there in the hearts of those that followed Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor, for the agony of those that endured the crossing of the Ice had been great, and Fingolfin held the sons the accomplices of their father. Then there was peril of strife between the hosts[...]"), one the Fëanorians were ill situated to win, having given up their established encampments to the Nolofinwëan host and being lesser in number, and it was only when Maedhros abdicated his crown to Fingolfin specifically that "the feud was healed" ("FOR Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion at Araman (undertaken with his complete knowledge and support; he only balks at actually burning the ships) and waived his claim to kingship") NOT with Fingons rescue itself.

The first thing the Sons of Fëanor are noted for basically whenever is their pride, and before Valar intervention they were the Elder House of the Noldor, undisputed heirs to Finwë (and never disputed by Finwë himself, might I add). Maedhros is a son of Fëanor, what's more he is their LEADER. He was named and raised for his rightful place in the succession and fully sided with his father in the feud, yet it's so impossible a notion that he might take pride in his inheritance? That he might have wanted it, and seen it as rightfully his? That potential decades of torment and the risk of civil strife he was poised to lose MIGHT have played a part in his decision to surrender the crown? The first thing he does afterwards is be the final voice in the establishment of relations with Doriath (without any kind of contribution from the Nolofinwëans..."A king is he that can hold his own, or else his title is vain" as a double-edged insult not only towards Thingol but also Fingolfin? No, it couldn't be.. .) relocate to the other side of the continent to create his autonomous region and balk at Fingolfin thinking he can give him commands ("[...] ill disposed to hearken to [Fingolfin's] command, and the sons of Fëanor least of all." Since, you know, Maedhros is part of said group and not singled out in this).

I don't think it's a coincidence either that Maedhros and Maglor specifically pull up with "warriors of the eastern marches" at the Mereth Aderthad (organized by Fingolfin) later. The one specifically for having a good time together, establish friendly relations, a gathering of ambassadors, not to show off your military power, you'd think. I find it hard to not see any kind of message in that.

Which is not even mentioning his actual abdication where he posthumously clinches Fëanor the win over the conflict that was at the heart of the developing feud back in Aman, the intertwinement of Finwë's regard and heirship. Maedhros firmly established Fëanor as rightful heir to Finwë, not Fingolfin ("If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise." Fëanor canonically being older than Fingolfin (and renown for his learned spirit, adding a bit of additional bite, imo. "Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers[...]").).

As for Fingolfin, specifically in relation to Maedhros he often gets cast as the endlessly understanding uncle, which is already a direct contradiction to canon where he explicitly "held the sons the accomplices of their father". Which is fair enough if one agrees with his overall indignation, since the Sons of Fëanor acted in full agreement with Fëanor in the matter he's angry over, yes, even Maedhros. Maedhros was fine with Araman and even wrt Losgar, remember that the one he wanted ferried over was Fingon, the one leading the Nolofinwëan host at this point who had fought on their behalf at Alqualondë, who therefore broadly met the baseline criteria for vetting initially set by the Fëanorians as a whole: "Therefore it came into the hearts of Fëanor and his sons to seize all the ships and depart suddenly; for they had retained the mastery of the fleet since the battle of the Haven, and it was manned only by those who had fought there and were bound to Fëanor."

(Am I suggesting he would have taken it as an opportunity to separate Fingon from Fingolfin's influence, if not Fingolfin outright, by indebting him to the Fëanorians? Well, I'm not not saying it)

I'm not trying to claim Fingolfin couldn't possibly have felt any compassion for Maedhros and his condition upon rescue, but fact of the matter is that whatever amount of compassion he might have felt, he still didn't stop pressuring for the crown, since the feud (in this specific instance the Nolofinwëan indigantion at the Fëanorian "desertion") , as mentioned, was only specifically (and debatably at that, with the fresh resentment created by it in the Sons of Fëanor) "healed" with Maedhros abdication and Fingolfin getting what he'd been gunning for a long time now: "[...]and the hatred between the houses of Fingolfin and Fëanor was assuaged. For Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion in Araman; and he waived his claim to kingship over all the Noldor[...]."

While I already mentioned it as a small comment on the negotiations with Thingol, Fingolfin's actual accomplishment as High King also leave a lot to be desired. He tends to get somewhat lionized in fandom in this regard, probably due to an impressionable exit from the story not only in actual deed but also presentation thereof. My reason for bringing this up being that, even leaving everything mentioned prior related to the family tensions aside, I find it therefore highly doubtful Maedhros would have been overly impressed by what Fingolfin does with his much coveted reward. If one takes Maedhros' comment to Thingol as expression of a genuine sentiment (and I don't see why one shouldn't-if there's one thing the Fëanorians are not lacking it's the ability to assert themselves and competency-) then Fingolfin fails by these very same criteria. I'm not trying to claim he was a disaster, just from moderatly to vastly overrated, particularly compared to what Maedhros puts up with and puts together (the Union of Maedhros may have failed but that doesn't change that it was a feat of unity for the ages, quite literally and without exaggeration).

His only noteworthy actions that can be ascribed to him specifically were the aforementioned Mereth Aderthad and sending out a message of welcoming to the newly arriving Edain. Which are both admirable but imo not actually necessary with the rate at which guys like the Fëanorians (admittedly in the prime position to make first cotact with newcomers in the east) and Finrod were making alliances and friendships with many of these groups even beforehand/on their own, leaving more of an impression of Fingolfin asserting his position of leadership than crucial intervention. He's a complete non-entity in the initial Doriath negotiations-the closing word on the matter goes to Maedhros, while the Arafinwëans are the intermediaries. His initial following of at the least Noldor shrinks rapidly, with the Arafinwëans leaving for their own realms, with a third of his Nolofinwëan followers from Valinor leaving him for Turgon and his Hidden Realm, his suggested offensive is rejected (not singularily but chiefly by the Sons of Fëanor, likely to be related to that pressured abdication), he is beaten back in the Bragollach and then goes off to die in a glorious but nonetheless suicide that doesn't achieve much of significance (Morgoth was already trapped in physical form and constant torment by the Silmarils). Leaving Fingon to hold the line and Maedhros to mopp up the mess with his Union (and retaking of the Eastern territory, includig for a time Dorthonion). His one unambiguous triumph is the Dagor Aglareb, a victory shared in equal measure with Maedhros (also I can't help observing that Fingolfin sure doesn't hesitate with the boasting. "[...]Fingolfin boasted that save by treason among themselves Morgoth could never again burst from the leaguer of the Eldar, nor come upon them at unawares." Imagine if a Son of Fëanor said something like that, fandom would never let them live it down. But Fingolfin is ever-humble and cautious, of course). His only noteworthy alliance is with the House of Hador, but even in that regard he's overshadowed by his sons and their friendship with it.

Part of this stems (in-universe) no doubt from Fingon being the one managing his frontyard, so to speak, driving back Glaurung and the attempted invasion in F.A. 155, leaving little for Fingolfin to do in this regard. But part of it also stems from the fact that Fingolfin, at the end of the day...Just does not do that much in the story and quits early. All of which together makes the reputation he enjoys as chief-enemy of Morgoth very questionable, as well as reinforces my doubt that Maedhros would have or even had reason to hold him in high regard, much less higher regard than his own accomplishments or his father.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (December 10-16, 2023)

Suit actor Kenpachiro Satsuma, who originated the roles of Gigan and Hedorah and played Godzilla in all of the Heisei films, passed away on Saturday at the age of 76. A serious performer paired with a serious Godzilla, he approached the role with near-religious reverence. Asked to give advice to Godzilla's next actor following the completion of Godzilla vs. Destoroyah, he said, "Be Godzilla. Don't do anything else. Write books about playing Godzilla, talk to reporters about playing Godzilla, but don't do anything else. Just be Godzilla." His second stint as the character, Godzilla vs. Biollante, is my favorite movie of all time, and it's pretty staggering how many of its key people are gone now. Rest in peace.

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters finally brought Godzilla into the present-day storyline—and finally let him enter Japanese waters in the flashbacks to 1955. (The only other time he's done this in the Monsterverse is in the debatably-canon Godzilla: Awakening.) I enjoyed the flashbacks a lot more than the main story this time, as the latter is just piling on the Ominous Pronouncements while withholding details to a degree that seems unrealistic from a Watsonian perspective. Give me a well-acted, doomed love triangle any day.

Comic book sales data is nigh-impossible to find these days, but 2022's Godzilla vs. the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers must have made bank, since it's getting a sequel! Writer Cullen Bunn and colorist Andrew Dalhouse are back, with Baldemar Rivas now handling the art. First issue's coming in April. The logline:

Worlds collide a second time as everyone’s favorite kaiju meets up with Earth’s mightiest warriors once again to take on the most fearsome monsters from both sides of the multiverse, with Rita Repulsa egging them on! This one has it all: SpaceGodzilla! Clawhammer! Tentacreep! But what exactly does Rita intend to do with their collective might, and how have her mysterious new allies, Astronema and the Alliance of Evil, given her added reach across worlds? The Power Rangers are on a mission to find out, but first…all roads lead back to Godzilla!

I recognize some of the proper nouns in there, at least!

Godzilla Minus One added even more North American theaters (from 2,540 to 2,622), but with stiffer competition in the form of Wonka, it fell to fourth with $5 million. That gets it over $30 million here; we'll see how much of a boost it gets from the holidays. The film is piling up accolades from regional critic groups, as well as a nomination at the Critics Choice Awards for Best Foreign Language Film.

I'm also making my way through all the videos Toho put on YouTube when I was desperately dodging spoilers, so look forward to more Minus One gifs and screenshots.

One more trailer for the Kaiju No. 8 anime, which is, for whatever reason, going to stream worldwide via X/Twitter. (Maybe they saw that users there already upload entire movies and decided to get ahead of the curve?) Don't worry, it'll be on Crunchyroll too.

[albrakia]

The Living Gods

Vivec, the warrior-poet god and Master of Morrowind, is perhaps the most popular of the Three. He also tends to be the most public, and the people love him. His visage appears both beautiful and bloody at the same time, and he has made violence into an art form. Vivec the warrior-poet has darker aspects associated with primitive, ruthless impulses, such as lust and murder. Almalexia, also known as Mother Morrowind, is the patron of healers and teachers. She is the Healing Mother, the source of compassion and sympathy, the protector of the poor and the weak. Almalexia embodies the best of Dunmeri culture and purpose. She exemplifies mercy, and her wisdom guides the Dark Elves in all their daily affairs. Sotha Sil, God of the World-Mechanism, is the least known and most hidden of the Tribunal gods. Sometimes referred to as the Mystery of Morrowind, he is a Magus and the patron of artificers and wizards. Perhaps the mightiest wizard in the land and certainly the wisest, he is considered to be the Light of Knowledge and the inspiration behind craft and sorcery.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Reincarnated! 7 Deadly Sins X Archdemon! Reader Intro and Headcanons

Hi hi! Part two of Love Bugs is on the way but I thought I would right down something just to keep engagement up. BTWs this might become a whole story if enough people request it. You can also ask for the individual characters in requests! Any gender for reader is fine (I'm nonbinary so I feel most comfortable writing gender neutral characters, however request male/female reader if you want) Also guess what their powers might be.

You were an archdemon, a powerful one. During the battle with heaven, you proved your metal and earned your spot as one of the King of Hell's personal guards. You had plenty of muscle and scars to show your dedication to your King, which is why you were confused with his request.

"Puh-lease!" His Highness begged you causing you to roll your eyes. In all your thousands of years of serving your king, he only seems to be this childish around you. It was almost a pitiful sight to see your mighty king reduced to this. "Your highness, please stand up. Groveling will only embarrass us both." You deadpanned towards your master. "Oh, come now (Y/N) no one ever dares intrude on our personal meetings. I wouldn't want anyone else to see what is only for you." You wanted to gag at the semi-flirtatious tone your boss took with you. It almost made you regret betraying God to assist the one you admired so much before.

Almost...

Your King had called you in for an important meeting which almost made you roll your eyes since most of his "important meetings" were just an excuse to stop your training and spend "quality time" together. You were surprised you weren't an alcoholic yet because every time you were done talking to the king you wanted to forget the syrupy sweet smiles and pet names, he cooed in your direction.

However, this time the important meeting was truly important, as your lord had a vision of the future. On this very day, the stars will align and the Seven mightiest warriors in Hell's army will be reborn as mortals with no recollection of their past lives as demons. Your lord thought it would best to have someone remind them of their past and train them to be their full potential, and he requested you to do it.

As much as you and every other little demon admired the great seven one of whom was the very first ruler of Hell Lucifer himself, you did not want to become a glorified babysitter. You were a warrior, General of Hell's army and right-hand man of King Balam. It was your job to oversee the safety of Hell and fight off any angel brave enough to attempt another "cleansing". However, his majesty was insistent that the mentor had to be you.

"(N/n) please you are Hell's finest and one of the greatest soldiers who ever spawned, only you can handle the massive power of the Seven and teach these little mortals their true potential." Buttering you up typical his majesty. He always gushed about you and your awesome power of sealing holy and demonic powers with your chains. It was very useful in and out of battle.

"I'm busy with protecting you and recruiting and training my soldiers. Find some retired demon to do it for me." You dismissed his plea entirely. That seemed to shut the crying and begging off. Your King got up and brushed off his royal garb "Very well then you leave me no choice." He wouldn't.

Your King grasped your hand, and you were taken to a strange place. It looked like Hell but it didn't feel like Hell. Thousands of figures in white loomed above as millions of screams were heard. Human and demon kind both burned in white flames as the apathetic stares of the holy gazed uninterested at the whole scene.

Like you were nothing...

What made things worse was you saw your dear friend and King barely holding on to life as the tallest and strongest looking angel held a sword to his throat. Michael.

"So, you do care about me!" Your King's voice anchored you back into reality. your face felt oddly wet. Tears, that hadn't happened since you fell. "My liege what vision did you share with me." His majesty chuckled and lifted your face to look up at him and cupped your cheeks.

"I tell you to call me Balam silly, we've been friends for almost a millennia." You shook your head he never changes. "That was what happens if the seven don't reach their full potential. You see Heaven is growing restless as they realize that the Great Virtues are coming back as well." Not the great virtues. You fought only one of them and it almost cost you your life. In fact, the only ones strong enough to defeat the Virtues were the Sins.

"Balam..." You paused searching for the right words.

"Yes, my dear knight." Balam sighed fondly as he stared at you with so much adoration.

"I accept."

The Sins:

Pride: Nalani

Full Name: Nalani Ai’la’ausd

Pronouns: She/they

Nalani Ai’la’ausd was the youngest and only girl of her family. As such she spent most of her time being raised by and cared for by her older brothers and family members. Her Hawaiian heritage meant her entire community was family and were treated as such. Her last name shows her family's rebellion towards the colonization of Hawaii and Christianity. She ended up moving away from Hawaii because of the overtourism and being sick and tired of her family being treated as servants. She is attending university and studying Political Science in hopes of going back to her home and creating policy to stop the overtourism.

When Nalani first started experiencing her powers she was frightened. I mean who wouldn't be a little scared if they started glowing and were able to control fire. However, she tried to remain calm and brave in the face of a storm and even contacted her elders for advice. Or she would have if you hadn't come out of the floor.

"Greetings mortal, I am (Y/N), General of Hell's army sword of the King of Hell. You are the reincarnation of Pride and most powerful of the Sins... can you stop glowing it's hurt my eyes."

"I don't know how to?"

"Dear Satan."

Yandere Types: Harmless, Protective, Manipulative, Possessive, Self-Aware

Nalani at first would be a Harmless yandere as she is not fully taken on her duty as a sin. She feels admiration in a platonic sense for all you've taught her. However, her feelings change as time goes on. It might be because you encourage her to be more confident in her abilities or don't ridicule her dreams. A crush soon blossoms from the admiration. Nalani notices you also interact with her teammates on a daily basis for training.

She doesn't like it...

She's the reincarnation of Lucifer who fell in some myths due to feeling jealous that God favored another over him. She knows what she's doing is wrong, but she can't help it. You make her feel so good and she simply wants to monopolize on that feeling. She's got a silver tongue which allows her to manipulate others to do small things like give you two alone time, or form alliances with the others. Again, nothing that will hurt those close to her and you, but enough to get her fill.

She's Pride the sin above all sins, it make sense for you to choose her.

You have no choice

Fun facts:

Loves Poke and any dish with fresh fish. Would love to take you to sushi bars in the city.

Proficient Surfer- wants to teach you (excuse for some alone time)

Has a fear of crabs

Scrunches her nose when she's happy.

Muscular woman with tattoos (important part of culture)

Works in a tattoo parlor when not attending classes.

Greed: Avaris

Full Name: Avaris Buhl

Pronouns: They/them

Avaris Buhl is the definition of poor, they live in a trailer with their parents and five other siblings. They are used to sharing everything with their family and take it in stride. Bathroom, living space, soap, and other items. Avaris was not very popular and often bullied for being poor. What a terrible thing to do, make fun of someone for being born into an unideal situation. Their only refuge during this turmoil was art. Drawing, painting, sculpting, Avaris tried it all. They personally liked sculpting the best. They were immediately kicked out at eighteen for applying for art school and coming out as nonbinary. Now they live in a crappy apartment and work part time as a barista and doing commissions online.

When Avaris found out that they had powers they were thinking about something that was always the forefront of their mind. Rent was due tomorrow, and that bastard of a landlord was raising rent once again. Turns out Karens don't like when you take breaks as Avaris was harassed about a drink that they didn't even make. One thing led to another and Avaris ended up turning the Karen into a gold statue by accident. While fleeing in fear a large figure appeared from a rift in the ground.

"Greetings mortal, I have come here in search of the reincarnation of Greed. I sense a powerful aura in front of me so I'm guessing it's you."

Avaris promptly fainted.

Yandere Types: Clingy, Obsessive, Self-Sacrificial, Possessive, Stalker

Avaris isn't one to let their yandere tendencies show. At first, they were just grateful that someone was there to help them. Having company also wasn't too bad as Avaris isn't the most social person.

As time goes on Avaris notices all your little quirks and starts to admire each one. Do you swing your legs when you sit? Noted. Have a unique laugh? Noted. Do you have feelings for someone? Better fix that.

Avaris is a little (very obsessed) with your every move and action seeing you as their muse. Many of their latest art pieces and sculptures look a little too familiar (many of them smashed to bits for not fully incapsulating you). Incorporating precious stones and gold they summoned to enhance your natural beauty.

Avaris is used to being ignored which never was a blessing until now, in the busy streets of the city Avaris follows you as you explore the human realm. Careful not to get close enough that your demonic senses kick in but enough to keep track of you. They don't like how close the others and some randoms are to your immortal glory. It should be them and only them.

You are encouraging them to be more greedy.

Well they are greedy for you

Fun Facts:

Even though Avaris is an artist they also know how to code (taking a few lessons online)

Loves pudding

Has very long and nimble fingers which make sculpting clay very easy.

Has a short wolf cut that is shaved on the sides, its color changing based on what they want

Extremely near sighted

Average body type and very pasty (twig arms)

Envy: Cain

Full Name: Cain Alvarado

Pronouns: He/they FTM

You know that one kid who has a reputation for being "troubled" that's Cain Model. His parents divorced when he was five, with his mom taking his older and younger sibling, leaving him with his dad. His dad wasn't terrible, but he wasn't great either. Working on a construction site all day left Cain to become self-sufficient very quick. It was learn or starve. He still resents his mom for taking his siblings away and never coming back to check on him or even let him see his siblings. He was bullied in school for being the only openly trans kid and was called some really nasty names. They never got in trouble, only he did when he broke some stupid boy's nose for groping him inappropriately. Left at sixteen to stay with a cousin and finish school. He currently lives with the same cousin and is job searching.

This was it; he was going to die. Cain ran into some very angry gang members of an old rival gang; they recognized him immediately and intended to beat him to death. He wasn't even in the gang that long and they still recognized him.

"You should've known better than to insult us like that maricón!" One of the guys said his comment, causing his buddies to laugh. "I didn't do shit hijueputa." Cain doubled over again as another foot made contact with his stomach. "Shut up bitch, we do what we want." God damn it, someone deity must love to see him suffer. Cain dug his hands into the gravel. If I find that bastard, I'll fuck them up.

Suddenly a fire hydrant exploded, and a wave of water sent the men right into the side of a wall. The water formed a protective dome around Cain. The men ran off talking about "bruja" or whatever. What was happening? Cain opened his eyes to see an imposing demon with their back turned. "I didn't need your help." Cain spoke up to the figure, who turned around with mild fascination. "Clearly not. Are you going to get off the ground?"

"Fuck you."

Yandere Types: Tsundere-Yandere, Overprotective, Impulsive, Jealous, Clingy, Self-Indulgent

Your relationship at first was rocky at best and for good reason. Cain has serious trust issues, and you were tired of having to justify everything you do. A lot of curse words in English, Spanish, and Demonic were thrown at each other. He only stayed to figure out what was going on and because you are strong. However, you kept helping him and not pitying him like everyone else.

He would rather die than admit to himself and others that you've gained a soft spot in his heart. He's never had anyone to depend on so he can't trust that you won't be like everyone else too. Yet at the same time he won't allow you to spend too much time without him tagging along and complaining about how he hates spending time with you (liar). He sees anyone flirting with you and he will cuss them out, same with anyone flirting with him. Would melt internally if you help him volunteer at the animal shelter.

He is a very emotionally driven person and when he becomes jealous, he does many things to stop that feeling making him impulsive. Leading to him being capable of hurting and killing others and you. One of the most dangerous due to his unpredictable behavior. Believes that he should indulge in his obsession with you and will force you along if it means that he is happy.

Don't look to the others for a way out

He might get jealous

Fun Facts:

Volunteers at the animal shelter regularly

Loves sour candy

Low spice tolerance

Great at domestic tasks

Loves visiting the koi pond in the park

Has many piercings

Insecure about his big chest (well-endowed and too broke for top surgery)

Has a cat named Chorizo (rescue with burn scars)

Stocky figure (chubby yet strong)

Maricón= a slur used against gay men in particular. Cain isn't fully gay per se (all of these characters are pretty fruity), but these assholes don't know the difference between gay and trans.

hijueputa= means motherfucker

Wrath: Kali

Full Name: Kali Ramanathan

Pronouns: She/her

Kali comes from a conservative Indian family. Her family longed for a son but instead they ended up with a daughter. They fell into grief when her mother could not have any more children. She became the stain of the family simply for being born the wrong way. Instead of being light skinned and petite, Kali was darked skinned and very tall, towering over her own father. She was dubbed by the rest of the family as "Mannish Girl". Instead of being ashamed of it she wore it like a badge of honor, she would never make her parents proud so why try? Her parents were furious of her love of sports and her average to low grades (despite being very smart). No one would want to marry such a defective woman. Then she confessed to liking girls more than boys, which was the final straw. She was given an ultimatum: Marry a nice Indian boy a seventeen or get the hell out of our family in shame. Much like the vengeful goddess she was named after she stormed away without a second thought. An old girlfriend's parents let her stay with them until college when she left to prove her parents wrong and become a doctor.

Kali had always swallowed her pride; it was best not to argue. She had taken sixteen years of emotional abuse without once complaining. Being compared to cousins, called stupid, called mannish, called the shame of the family. She dealt with a shitty landlord, many rejections to colleges, and working her ass off in undergrad all with fierce determination. Yet her molecular chemistry teacher was what made her snap.

"Honestly I don't understand why you're still in my class you're not very smart and you're wasting a spot that a man could fill." She had lost control and punched him but a single punch that was supposed to just bruise his jaw and ego, shattered all his bones and snapped a few tendons.

This isn't good. Her chauvinist professor had passed out due to the pain and Kali was left panicking. Why did she have to snap now when she was so close to graduating? "Need help cleaning up?" Kali snapped around to see a janitor, except it was a very muscular and handsome janitor with a regal aura and... horns? "I just need to get this man to a hospital." "No need." the person spoke and waved their hand over the broken body a black aura surrounding the body. Kali anticipated something but nothing happened. "I healed him and in exchange for my silence on this matter I want you to come with me."

What had she gotten herself into?

Yandere Type: Harmless, Sadistic, Isolating, Manipulative, Possessive, Protective, Worshiper, Delusional

At first Kali thought you were the shadiest being on the planet. Who else goes out of their way to pluck young people from their lives to train them for...? The end of the world? Were you high? Clearly not as you had some of the best fighting, she'd ever seen. Please teach her!

However, you were one of the first to not belittle her for simply being a woman with her interests. You would listen as she rambled about anything that caught her interest. You also introduced her to boxing (something about channeling her wrath powers). You were her calm her source of peace and she would do anything to keep it that way.

She is never sadistic towards you; she would rather hurt herself then hurt you (physically at least). Others including the other sins are on the table. Got a little too rough during training? She was just really into it. Knocked the tooth out of that girl at her boxing gym? She was asking for it thinking she could flirt with you (she was just smiling at you out of politeness but okay)!

Kali is smart and knows she can't have you all to herself all the time (yet), especially with the other sins. Non sin people however... are fair game. She'll manipulate every situation to make sure others stay the hell away from you and that you come to her instead. She'll also do everything to earn your trust and lure you into feeling more secure around her (good luck with that). She will treat you with great reverence and be your champion.

She would let the world burn

If you'd be there by her side

Fun Facts:

Her poorer grades in grade school were due to undiagnosed ADHD.

Loves jewelry (specifically necklaces)

Got into boxing and working out to release anger (thanks to you)

Damn good at basketball

Is a yoga instructor at a local gym

Loves spicy food

Thinks spiders are cool

Dresses in the goth aesthetic

Knows a frightening amount about the human body (will ask you for books on demon anatomy as well)

Tall and lean (from sports) medium long dark hair that is very soft (has a tiny girl stache), slightly bushy brows

Lust: Désirée

Full Name: Désirée Beaufort

Pronouns: He/him

Désirée Beaufort is a child born of an affair, specifically his father and a maid that worked for him. His father only raised him out of a sense of obligation (not wanting to pay child support). His father's wife hated him and would do everything in her power to remind him that he was a mistake. Has two other half-sisters (that we know of) who were legitimate and hate his guts. Hated the fact that he was prettier than them and would do terrible things to him (chop his beautiful locks and cut his porcelain skin). It didn't help that the other people he met all objectified him, some even trying to assault him. His father's wife did nothing but watch on as these disgusting individuals would touch him where he didn't want to be touched. Luckily, they never went further but it made Désirée terrified of the idea of sex. He asked his father to let him live on his own (to escape the abuse), who agreed just to get rid of him. Currently, living in the wealthier part of the city off the allowance his father gives him.

Désirée noticed how easy it was to get what he wanted. Of course, he always had pretty privilege but now everyone had a foggy look in their eyes when they talked to him. His landlord allowed him to stop paying rent, his coffee was always free, and people would do anything he said. He didn't understand why everyone would act so strange around him, but he just got used to it. That was until a bunch of crazed admirers chased Désirée with obsessive intent. It frightened him so terribly to see their lovesick expressions.

Why won't they go away?

A heavy weight pressed on his arm and he was yanked into an alley as the admirers continued running past him. Désirée looked up in fear of what the person behind him might do. "Are you okay?" "Huh?" Désirée tilted his head to the side, no one had ever asked him that before. "Those people looked like they wished to murder you so I want to know if they hurt you." This person cared? Désirée pulled away from the strong persons grasp and stared at them. Before him stood a terrifying beast with a commanding aura.

"Do you love me?"

"Why would I? I just met you."

"Oh thank the stars!"

Yandere Types: Worshiper, Obsessive, Clingy, Manipulative, Self- Sacrifice, Harmless(?), Desperate, Delusional

Désirée was grateful to find someone who didn't throw themselves at him. He could have a conversation with someone as an equal rather than an object and he was overjoyed. You were equally strict on everyone you trained equally which Désirée both loved and hated. You were a savior in his eyes and someone to admire for your dedication to your cause.

Désirée fell hard and fast, maybe even the first person to go yandere for you. He was surrounded by people who mistreated him so doing the bare minimum was enough to make him fall in love with you. Désirée wanted to be around you 24/7! He found out about demon contracts and begged to enter one with you. Broke down sobbing when you explained that 1. He couldn't enter a contract as the reincarnation of Lust and 2. You wouldn't do it anyways (you serve no one but the King of Hell).

Normally very touch adverse but with you Désirée is the definition of clingy. Wraps himself around you as soon as he sees you, kisses your cheek, and drowns you in compliments. He adores you so so so much, how can he not express it?! Accidentally guilt trips you into being more accepting of his advances (he becomes very depressed if you seem nonreceptive). Learns all sort of magic to impress you and uses his secret ability to make sure that his dream comes true (you and him together forever).

He always hated lust but...

He feels compelled to it by you

Fun Facts:

Bilingual (speaks fluent English and French)

Favorite food is breakfast food

Likes heavy death metal

Loves to craft (crochet, sew, knit, needlepoint)

A very good swimmer and proficient fencer

Loves horseback riding

Loves romcoms (will try to reenact them with you)

Beautiful man: Tall and lithe (most likely to malnourishment) with Long wavy blond hair and icy blue eyes has two beauty marks under each eye

Gluttony: Gwyn

Full name: Gwyn Bex

Pronouns: ALL OF THEM

Gwyn Bex and their background is nothing to sniff at. She had two supportive mothers who love him no matter what, they have a successful career as a high fashion model, and they have more wealth than others of his age group could say. However, she is not satisfied with this life, it was all so hollow. The only time that he ever feels a thrill is when something is at stake, someone challenges their comfy life. When that is not happening, she is going on a diet to it the newest body trend after all their looks are what gave them this life and he can't be anything less than perfect. They have a severe case of binge eating and purging which has caused many health complications, oh well not like she cared much about himself.

Gwyn reclined in a red leather seat of a beauty parlor getting their hair done, smoking a cigarette. Smoking was against the rules but who was going to stop him? Their next photo shoot was coming up and she had to look flawless. The hairdressers were chatting about unimportant things until he heard a rival model's name. A string snapped internally as they heard those insects praising that ghastly creature. Gwyn sighed and tried to keep things together.

They wouldn't stop.

Gwyn dug their manicured nails into the armrests of the styling chair. How dare they speak of another who couldn't hold a candle to them and her beauty. Their multicolored eyes held nothing but malice for the people talking in front of him.

BOOM!

Large lightning bolt followed by wall shaking thunder landed in front of the shop. The lights in the shop began to flicker on and off, freaking out the customers. A humming sound came from the walls themselves. Bursting from the vents came a swarm of locusts swirling around Bex causing patrons and workers to scream in terror. How amusing.

Even more intriguing was the brief yet ominous silhouette that appeared near the window. Ignoring the chaos around her she walked out the door and was greeted with the intense scent of ozone. Some of the locusts leaving the store and following them, one in particular landing on a stranger's finger. "You know locusts aren't often found swarming in the city, they often flock to where there are crops to be razed. Gwyn cocked his perfect brow at the strangely alluring person in front of them, smirking. "You're going to be fun."

Yandere Types: Sadistic, Monopolizing, Controlling, Unpredictable, Self-Indulgent, Manipulative

Is the most dangerous yandere upfront. They know what they want and what she wants, what he craves is entertainment. It almost scares you how differently Bex approaches things than the rest of the sins. Beelzebub was known to be very dangerous but the reincarnation more dangerous than Lucifer's. That's new. Gwyn flirts with everyone in this strange little 'family' at first not really caring for their fate or anyone's feelings. You change that.

Foxy little minx you are

How dare you fill their mind when they should be focused on other things? You must pay by being their little play thing. Too bad your so stubborn and defiant. No matter... makes things more fun.

Unlike the other sadists Gwyn's sadistic tendencies can and will be turned on you. You're the big bad general, of course she wants to test your mettle (you're not having any of it). They like to playfully tease you, predatory gaze trained on your figure consuming your every action. It's so sweet how you worry for their health (you don't you just need them to embrace Gluttony further), you should be rewarded for that (you don't want his rewards).

Cain might kill others by accident but for Gwyn it's all a calculated game and everyone must play their part. Your part is to be her precious little general, their toy.

Gluttony is all about overindulgence

Well let them overindulge in you

Fun Facts:

Has heterochromia (one blue eye, one eye that is half blue half brown)

Is jealous of the King's power over you

Likes testing their abilities in his spare time

Great singing voice (is a triple threat)

The only sin who is on board with embracing their sin

Actually hates bugs (especially flies)

Knew Duke before all this (you'll find out ;))

Weight fluctuates from anorexically thin to fat (can pull off any weight), foxlike eyes, pretty strawberry blonde hair, average height

Sloth: Marmaduke

Full Name: Marmaduke Skelly (prefers to be called Duke)

Pronouns: "The guy ones" (any pronouns besides she/her)

Duke's a chill guy, he's very go with the flow type guy. Grew up in middle class suburbia with two loving parents and a cute little sister (very big age gap between siblings). Was very insecure of being short and skinny (was the shortest boy in his middle school), which lead to a lot of teasing from his friends and classmates. When you've been thrown through a basketball net you decide it's time to bulk up. Got his first set of weights at thirteen as well as a gym membership at fifteen. He aspires to be just like his first gym bro who helped teach him how to use all the equipment and figure out a routine. Joined his high school wrestling team and quickly became MVP. Was a golden boy jock at his school and would report any jock to the coach who was found bullying or harassing girls. Got in on a sports scholarship to the city university and is studying Early Childhood Education (minor in Philosophy).

Duke was having one of those sleep paralysis episodes again he was sure of it. He had no problems getting sleep in his whole life until recently. Every night he would fall asleep and would wake up unable to move or speak. A large dark figure would whisper to him calling him Belphegor for some reason. He was never really that religious, sure his parents dragged him to church as a kid but he never believed in demons.

Until he saw one in his frat's kitchen. "Ah you're awake finally, you know you talk in you sleep, correct?" Fuck. What was he supposed to say? "Uh are you a demon?" Duke asked. Idiot that must be such a rude question to ask a demon. The demon laughed as their eyes squinted in amusement (which Duke thought was pretty cute). "What do you think?" The demon asked flexing their powerful wings and sweet gains. "That you should teach me your routine cause you got some sweet gains." The demon stared at Duke in disbelief. Did he say something wrong. "Gains? Routines? Human what are you talking about."

He's jealous

Yandere Types: Harmless, Obsessive, Clingy, Overprotective, Delusional, Lovesick

Bro is just happy to be along for the ride. He a reincarnated demon represented the cardinal sin of Sloth. Sick... what is sloth? IT'S WHAT?! Bro's straight up offended. He did not put all this work into a healthy bod to be told he has to throw that all out the window. Hell no! Not only that but sloth is one of the least respected and powerful of the sins. How come Nalani gets to be Lucifer Freaking Morningstar and he just... he doesn't even know! You're pretty much the only person who can calm him down.

Bro is whipped for you anytime spent with you is good time. Wanna go to the gym? The movies? The gym? That new burger place? The gym? Please go to the gym with him! He wants to learn some new moves and teach you some of his own (also see you covered in sweat).

Delulu for real. You can do nothing wrong in his eyes. #1 (Y/N) apologist and defender. Will fight anyone who disagrees. He also believes that you love him the most deep down so that's why he's fine with you interacting with everyone else. Does many things to attempt to convince you that you he should be your mate. (you are his but more importantly he is yours)

Your number one hype man will shower you with compliments all day long. You didn't have an ego problem before, but you'll have one after interacting with Duke for too long. Bros always praising your muscles (using that as an excuse to squeeze them).

Freaks the fuck out if you get even the tiniest scrape. He doesn't underestimate you, he just never wants you to feel pain. Oh my god you have a paper cut?! CALL THE AMBULANCE! Don't worry baby he'll make sure to hold your hand the entire time. You're just rolling your eyes.

Seems the most normal out of all of them but he's still a yandere (just unintentionally sneaky).

Sloth is all about apathy but

He'll never sleep on you

Fun Fact:

Is intersex

Total gym bro (but a wholesome one)

Has fairy princess tea parties with his little sister like a real man

Professional body builder

Terrible cook

(insert the Knuckles feminist rant here)

Loves the Rocky movies (sister is convinced he's a ginger Rocky Balboa)

Huge anime nerd

Knows Gwyn (unfortunately in his eyes)

One of the only ones willing to share darling

Bros literally been called a buff leprechaun (cause he is short, ginger, and built like a tank). No one thinks this man would be 5'2 (158.496 cm) but he is. Hairy arms and cannot go anywhere without putting a crap ton of sunscreen on. Covered in freckles and has the nicest hazel eyes. Heart is as big as his muscles bro.

[sevinisms]

nip ngahu | stuck with you

pairing: tsu'tey x tayrangi fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, a little swearing

author's note: remember how tsu'tey died in the first movie? no you don't :) part 1/?

FROM THE UNDERBELLY of their ugly metal ships, the sky-people carried out their relentless assault on the ground party below. Spraying bullets at every Na'vi and ikran within shooting range, the humans' objective was abundantly clear: to kill everything in sight.

Tsu'tey launched himself from the back of his ikran and onto one of the ships, sinking an arrow into a soldier's chest before his feet even touched the floor. Tossing the first gunman in his reach overboard, he grabs another, then another, keeping mental score of his kills.

That was three.

He was rushed by a group of them next, unleashing a barrage of assaults. Their combined strength was laughable. Disarming them was easy. Using his bow, he cracked open two of their masks and their bodies crumpled to the floor.

Two more.

Surely, these aren’t their mightiest warriors, he thought. His heartbeat quickened with adrenaline as he hunted for another opponent. There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral and he knew he’d found one. A soldier, crouching behind a crate of boxes fumbling to reload his machine gun. This was almost too easy. Pulling one of his arrows from a dying soldier’s sternum, he repositioned it in his bow and released it with a snap, piercing it through the latter.

One more.

He relished in his kill, unaware of the lone gunman gaining on him from behind. A strained war-cry from the soldier and another round of bullets were sent whistling towards Tsu'tey. He managed to evade the bulk of the crossfire, but not before he felt the stinging pinch of lead sinking into his shoulder, torso, and thigh.

The force from the gunfire was enough to cause imbalance. Launched backwards, Tsu’tey took a single step, the wrong one, and was suddenly in free-fall.

Where anyone else would have prayed or screamed until their lungs gave out, Tsu’tey didn’t bother. Warriors weren’t entitled to much in this life, save for a little pride and just enough years into adulthood to produce an heir. And even these things weren’t promised. Death, on the other hand, was guaranteed.

Tsu’tey had long since made peace with this notion, and found comfort in it, as it meant that his reunion with Sylwanin was also promised. She was closer than ever, as was the forest floor, and with nothing left to do but prepare for the inevitable landing, Tsu’tey closed his eyes, and braced himself for impact.

HARDLY A HEALER, you'd more or less managed to hold the battered Na'vi together long enough to deliver him to Mip'awn; the makeshift command post slash medical station operating from the Tree of Souls.

Upon your arrival, three healers approached your ikran, fervently inquiring the condition of your ward.

He’d worsened considerably since you’d plucked him from the sky. Previously writhing in your arms, hissing orders at you between grit teeth to grant him a ‘warriors death’; a mercy killing, he’d since succumbed to his injuries and was now completely unresponsive.

“He was shot. I tried to stop the bleeding but–” you gestured to the shoddy tourniquets you’d made from bits of your loincloth; tied firmly to his wounds, they were darkening by the second. “I’ve never seen so much.”

“Move child, let me see.”

The healer closest to you, an elder from the Tipani clan, took a moment to poke and prod at the flesh of his cheeks. She examined the color of his gums and his tongue; measured the warmth of his breath and the length, thoroughly searching for signs of life. Unsatisfied with his vitals (or lack thereof), she moved to raise one of his heavy eyelids. Taking note of the yellow eye rolling lazily in its socket, she grunted lowly and returned to her position. You couldn’t gauge her reaction– was that good? Bad? You searched her stoic face for an answer to no avail, although you silently prayed for the former.

“He is unconscious, but still with us.” A wave of her hand and the other two healers removed the warrior from your grasp and onto a stretcher. You watched as they lifted him with a grunt and carried him elsewhere. “He will live.”

“Does that mean that you can heal him?”

“Not I.” The elder woman said. “In matters of the Omatikaya, we let their Tsahìk decide what to do.” Starting after the healers she’d sent away with your rescue, the Tipani healer beckoned you to follow her. “Come. She is this way.”

The healer’s tent was dimly lit and noticeably cramped; virtually packed to the brim with sundry spiritual apparatus and healing materials. What little room was left to move around freely was occupied in part by the massive na’vi you’d collected. You soon learned that he was called Tsu’tey and that he was Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

His Tsahìk, Mo’at, worked expertly to repair the sloppy tourniquets you’d made. She criticized their craftsmanship as she undid them and detailed what she would have done differently. Peeling back the stained fabric, Mo’at frowned at the gushing wounds. The spindly woman sat back on her haunches in thought. Her daughter, Neytiri, crouched beside her, cupping a hand to her mother’s shoulder..

“What is it?” She asked. Her voice was barely that of a whisper and already cracking at the anticipation of the unthinkable. “Is he–?”

“No. Not yet,” the healer confirmed. “These injuries are worse than I thought. He has lost too much blood already. Perhaps it would be best,” a pair of cat-like eyes landed on her daughter’s mate– the famed dreamwalker, Jakesuli. “To kill him now so that he can finally rest with the ancestors.”

The Tayrangi clan voiced their dissent in the form hissing and gnashing teeth. Where the Omatikaya found honor in the merciful release of their wounded, the Tayrangi favored rehabilitation and retention in their numbers. Considering the Omatikayan’s preferred method of salvation, it was no wonder their clan was so small.

Unfazed by your clan’s aggressive display, Mo’at continued, “It must be done, Jakesuli. Our Olo’eyktan is weak. He is in no condition to lead the people.” Gesturing to Tsu’tey’s pallid form, she encouraged Jake to unsheathe his knife. Losing color himself, he refused.

“You don’t understand. I can’t– I won’t kill him.”

“You are sad for him.” Neytiri concluded. “Do not be, Ma Jake, for this is the way it has always been done. Since the time of First Songs. It is good–”

“Bullshit!” You interjected.

You’d since resumed your desperate attempt to keep the chieftain alive, as the only qualified healers in the room had resorted to giving pep-talks in the corner. It was maddening; In the time it would take to convince Jake to follow through with the coup de grâce, Mo’at and Neytiri could have done something useful and tended to Tsu’tey. Hell, he wasn’t even your Olo’eyktan and your efforts were more concerted.

“Nothing about…this,” you gestured between them and Tsu’tey. “is good. Have you such little regard for your Olo’eyktan that you’d just let him die?”

“His injuries are too great.” Mo’at answered curtly.

“The Tipani healer said he would live. You didn’t even try–”

“You will be mindful to watch your tongue, girl. I am Tsahìk of this clan, not Artsuk.”

As Toruk Makto, Jake was next in line for leadership and was regarded as such. Considered the provisory chief of the clan, the decision of Tsu’tey’s fate was ultimately his to make. Like the Tayrangi, he didn’t think killing Tsu’tey was right or even a necessary thing to do in this case. In the Marines, he’d seen guys in way worse condition after a war. Bruised, battered, and broken, those guys would do anything to keep in the fight. To live and see another day. Three gunshot wounds to a Na’vi’s massive frame was hardly fatal. Hell, even a human could stomach the injury under the right circumstances.

“You should go elsewhere while we decide what to do.” Mo’at suggested curtly.

“Nah, there’s no need. I’ve already decided.” Jake said finally. He figured there wasn’t much use in the clan losing a seasoned warrior if they didn’t have to. More selfishly, he wasn’t sure that he could stomach the loss of another friend– of another brother. Though he’d certainly have Tsu’tey’s mouth to deal with when he came to, he preferred that over the alternative. “Tsu’tey lives.”

[daemonhold]

daemon has frequent nightmares about the months where gilgamesh was in full control ... ... this was before gilgamesh had spent more time with him too, so he was far more brutal with who he killed and what he killed. and now im sad

[mikaelsonstanaccount]

This is my first time publishing my work so yall be nice. Also this is for @klonnieshippersclub Klonnie Week

Klonnie Week Day 1: Domestic Intimacy 

Klaus smiled as he watched Bonnie gather flowers from their garden. After Tatia Klaus assumed he could never love again, but there she was. She was his sun, moon, and stars. He had no idea what he had done for the gods to bless him with her. All he could do was just watch her in awe. She was truly his and he couldn’t believe it. “You’re staring again my love.” Bonnie smiled as she walked back inside to finish her potion. She took up potion and jewelry making after her grandmother, Ayanna, left the village. Potion making was where she found her sense of tranquility. It was what kept focused and kept her mind sharp.

She heard their baby boy, Emil, cry out before Klaus swooped in to care for him. The witch smiled seeing her husband doting on their baby boy. He had him wrapped around his tiny fingers. Klaus even went as far as to offer to hunt for one of the village seamstresses for a week in exchange for a few matching outfits for them. They had at least 6 matching outfits. “Oh what’s the matter little one? Are you hungry? Did you miss mummy and I?” He cooed before walking over to Bonnie with him. “He couldn’t possibly miss you, my love. You spend so much time with him he doesn’t even get the time to miss you.” Bonnie added  before her husband let out a laugh. “I think mummy is jealous that we spend so much time together.” Klaus whispered to little Emil  before smiling.

His cries moved into quiet whines as Klaus rocked him and hummed a lullaby that he remembered Ayanna would hum as she crafted. “I think we should have many more babies.” Klaus smiled as Bonnie shook her head. “Emil is still a baby and you want more? He’s barely aged 6 months.” Bonnie laughed as she began to bottle the potion. It was just a simple gardening potion for their neighbor. “Not now, my love, but I want Emil to have a bunch of siblings. A home full of children.” Klaus said as he sat down and rocked him. “We will my love, in due time.” Bonnie smiled as she wrote instructions on the side of the bottle. 

After she was done she walked over and picked their baby boy up to feed him. “Hey, we were having mens time.” Klaus pouted playfully before Bonnie rolled her eyes and continued to feed him. “When you gain the ability to feed him, then I will not interrupt your mens time.” She joked before moving to burp him. “Well I guess you can interrupt for that.” He huffed before smiling. “He has to grow up big and strong. A warrior.” He added as he looked at Emil over her shoulder. “Emil, Son of Niklaus, the strongest warrior, and the mightiest of men.” Bonnie said as she held him up in the air. She saw his gummy smile before smiling herself and putting him back in Klaus’ arms.

Later on that night the couple stared at their sleeping baby boy, waiting for the same feeling to overcome them. “He looks just like you.” Klaus murmured as he  looked down at her. Truthfully he was sleepy but he refused to sleep before his family was asleep. He remembered how often he and Elijah would be left to stay awake and watch the family sleep while Mikael slept peacefully. For some reason that action, combined with many others, is what he used to make himself a better father. He wanted to be the father he always wanted for his children. He owed it to them and to himself to be the man that Mikael didn’t raise, to be the man that young him would have bragged about to the other kids. 

“Sleep my love.” Bonnie whispered, kissing his head and laying down beside their son. Klaus smiled tiredly before humming and laying down beside her. He pulled them both closer to his body before closing one eye and waiting for Bonnie to sleep. He could tell Bonnie was pretending to sleep so he closed his eyes and let sleep take over. 

[siancore]

The Queen's Ward - Attoye Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Okoye is Queen Ramonda's ward. She enjoys all of the privileges that the Queen's own children enjoy. She also has to take up duties and responsibilities to Wakanda as they do. She is happy to serve the throne, but what happens when she is told she must marry Attuma of Talokan? Attuma, her childhood friend. Whom she used to play-fight in the mud with as a child. Whom she trained with and had a rivalry with. How can they go back to being friends if he is to wed and bed her? To fill her belly with his heir? Okoye is just nineteen summers old. She has never even kissed a man let alone lain with one. Especially not a man who is her friend. She fears their friendship will not survive marriage; she fears she will not survive their wedding night if Attuma is to take her to the marital bed.

A/N: This is a teaser for my story for Attoye Week 2023. Sorry it's so long @attoye-week I hope Dear Readers are keen for the whole story.

The journey to Talokan was long, and sometimes arduous. Okoye did not really recall it being this way the two times she had made it in her youth. She remembered caravans of laughter; discovering new things; the excitement of the Games; getting to see old friends and make new ones. Now, as she sat quietly atop the grey Arabian steed, she wished for it to be over. She wished to return home to Wakanda. She felt tears welling in her eyes as her arms wrapped haphazardly around the wide midsection of her soon-to-be husband: Attuma of Talokan.

Her mind was still spinning, even though she knew this day would come. The day where she would have to leave to be with her betrothed. What Okoye did not foresee was that it would be with Attuma.

She had known him when they were children. They had played together; trained together; got into mischief together. They were friends. Yes, he was the heir to the Talokanil throne; yes, he was the mightiest warrior they had. But to Okoye, he was a friend.

How could they go back to being friends now? After he would wed and bed her? How could she look at her friend the same way again after he would fill her belly with a child that would be heir to Talokan? Okoye had never even kissed a man, let alone lain with one – especially not one who was a friend. She shook the thoughts from her head as her mind drifted back to how this all came about…

…..

She had not seen him in almost five summers, but when he and his convoy arrived for the Great Games, Okoye was shocked (though she should not have been) to see that her childhood playmate was now a man. A tall, regal man. A handsome man. She could scarcely meet Attuma’s eyes when all of the Alliance Kingdom delegates met in the Wakandan Throne Room. She could feel his gaze on her. It made her discreetly fix her clothing and test the temperature of her face. Why was he looking at her with such intensity? They had not spoken in so long.

After the formalities had ended, Attuma approached. They greeted one another amicably, and Okoye felt better. His gaze was not so fiery when he was near. She felt at ease.

“Okoye,” he said firmly. “It is good to see you. You look – well.”

“Attuma,” she replied. “It’s good to see you, too. You’ve – grown.”

“So have you,” he offered, causing her to smile coyly.

A quiet settled around them and they each looked around the room until Attuma spoke again.

“Tired of the formalities yet?” he questioned, standing next to her. “We should sneak off together and wade in the Great Lake like we used to do.”

He was close. Close enough that his arm brushed against hers. Why was heat radiating from him? Why was she noticing? Okoye was feeling flustered.

“Ready for me to best you at the Games this summer?” she asked, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“It is only in your dreams that you would ever best me, Princess,” he replied, Okoye rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a Princess,” she proffered. “I’m the Queen’s ward and that is all.”

Attuma looked at Okoye and his gaze softened as he said, “You are more than both titles. You are rival to the stars in the heavens, Okoye of Wakanda.”

Okoye felt her skin flush warm, and she needed to look away. She needed to return to the playfulness of their youth. The teasing and antagonizing. The rivalry.

“And I’ll soon be the victor of the Spear Tournament,” she offered. “Get ready for defeat, Shark Prince.”

Attuma laughed. He had no choice. Okoye had reverted to the teasing of their youth.

“You are the only warrior worth my time, Princess.”

“I told you I’m not –”

Both Okoye and Attuma straightened their stance and ceased their banter when the King of Talokan approached. He nodded to Okoye but spoke to Attuma.

“Son, it is time for discussions to happen. You will sit at my right hand.”

With that, Kukulkan walked away and left the two young people standing there.

“I have to go,” said Attuma, with an apologetic smile. “I will see you this evening at the feast? Maybe at the lakeside after the feast?”

There was something akin to hope in his eyes. Okoye smiled and nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “Enjoy the discussions.”

…..

“Queen Mother, this corset is so uncomfortable,” said Okoye as servants fixed the garment to her slender frame. “How can I compete in the Spear Tournament wearing this all week?”

Queen Ramonda let out a small laugh and then walked over to her ward.

“Child, you will not be competing this summer.”

“Why not?” asked Okoye as she knit her brow. “I always compete.”

“Yes, in your youth,” said the Queen. “But you are near nineteen summers old, Okoye. It is time you stepped into your role as my ward. Time to attend more social gatherings and take on more diplomacy. And present yourself as a young lady would.”

“Why now? Because the delegates are here?”

Ramonda let out a sigh. Okoye was strong-willed, always spoke her mind, and asked questions. She would make a great leader someday.

“Yes, child. Because the delegates are here. You are old enough to take on more duties around the palace. To be more of a representative for Wakanda. It is your birthright.”

“I am not T’Challa, Mother.”

“No, but you are Okoye. You are my ward and like a daughter to me. You will have every opportunity that my own children have. I promised your parents, and I promise you, too. You will have it all.”

Okoye smiled as Ramonda placed a kiss to her head.

“Thank you,” the younger woman said. “I will make you proud.”

…..

“We heard that some of the non-Alliance Kingdoms were looking to trade Vibranium with Wakanda,” said Kukulkan.

“Where did you hear such a thing?” asked one of the Tribal Elders, Ke’n’tika.

“Our spies in faraway lands,” Kukulkan replied.

“That is false,” Ramonda offered. “We would never share our precious metal with anyone outside of the Alliance.”

“Do you not trust us, Kukulkan the Great?” asked T’Challa to his mother’s right.

“It is not about trust, Prince of Panthers,” said the Talokanil King. “It is about protecting our resources from those who would wish to harm and exploit us. About holding true to our promises. Trust is a nice notion. I like to see action.”

“What would you have us do to show that we are still upholding our promises, Great King?” asked Ramonda, wondering where the fallacy would lead both Nations.

“We need a stronger alliance.”

“Our alliance is strong.”

“But we could make it stronger,” said Kukulkan. “A royal marriage between our Nations.”

“My son is already married,” Ramonda replied. “And my daughter is far too young to even be promised.”

Silence fell over everyone in the room. Kukulkan glanced to his right where his son was seated, then back at Her Majesty.

“But you have a ward, yes?” the Great King asked.

“You know I do.”

“The girl.”

“Okoye,” said Attuma to his father; the only word he had spoken thus far.

“Okoye, she is of one of your elite families?”

“Yes.”

“And your ward.”

“Yes.”

“Is she promised to someone else?” asked Kukulkan. “To another Lord or Lady of the Alliance?”

“She is not.”

“Then, arrange for her to wed my son, Prince Attuma, and offer your ward and this alliance everlasting protection.”

Queen Ramonda’s face remained composed as she considered what the King of Talokan was asking.

“If you need more time to think my proposal over, can we agree on the end of the Games for you to give an answer?”

“Yes,” the Queen Mother replied. “You will have your answer before the Great Feast at the end of the Games.”

…..

When the drinks began to flow and dinner was being served, Okoye sat with the Queen, T’Challa, and his wife, Nakia, daughter of Yaa. While the evening was festive, there was a certain tension in the Dining Hall. Okoye assumed it was because of the discussions that the delegates had engaged in. The Great Games was a time for celebration and for the Alliance Kingdoms to come together, but it was also a time for debate and talk to occur. For treaties to be amended. For arrangements to be made. For the alliances to be solidified. Whatever had been spoken about during the discussions seemed to have had everyone on edge a little.

Okoye watched as T’Challa approached Attuma. The pair had always been friendly growing up. Okoye wondered why both were wearing such stern countenances. She could not hear their conversation, but kept her eyes on both young royals.

“Was this your idea?” asked T’Challa of Attuma as he sipped from his wine.

“What are you speaking of?” Attuma replied, finishing his own drink.

“A marriage to my sister.”

Attuma glanced over at Okoye. Her wide, bright eyes were trained on him. Attuma looked back at the prince beside him.

“My father has his own ideas, T’Challa. If he wants this marriage to happen, it will. You know as well as any that arrangements like this keep Nations strong. If my father wills it, and your mother accepts, then I will do my duty and marry Okoye.”

“Right,” T’Challa proffered. “Your duty. Tell me, Attuma, is it your duty to bed as many young women as possible with the risk of having a dozen bastard heirs roaming your great lands?”

Attuma’s jaw clenched. He did not know his reputation for seeking female companionship had reached as far as the Golden City.

“What I do in my lands and in my bed is not your concern, Panther Prince.”

“My sister’s honor and happiness is my concern, Great Shark.”

“You will not have to concern yourself with Okoye’s happiness once she belongs to me,” Attuma said, staring down at T’Challa. “When she is my wife.”

T’Challa let out a wry laugh and then said, “Okoye may still see you as the plump boy who she got into a mudslinging match with as a child, but I see how you look at her. I see how your eyes follow her. How your intentions are not as innocent or honorable as you make them out to be. Hurt my sister –”

“I would never.”

“Hurt my sister, Shark, and you will deal with me.”

…..

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” said Okoye as she dipped her toes in the cool water.

“The discussions ran late,” said Attuma as he came to stand beside her. “So, I had more deliberations to sit through with my father after we feasted.”

“Ha! Such important dealings for you. Do not let it go to your head,” she teased before sitting down on the soft sands of the lakeside.

Attuma sat beside her and kicked off his sandals. He placed his feet in the water and looked over at Okoye. The moonlight cast a pretty sheen over her flawless skin. She was breathtaking.

“All of this responsibility is getting to my head,” Attuma admitted. “But not in the way you think. I have so many more duties than before.”

“I understand,” said Okoye. “The Queen Mother said I am to take on more as well.”

“So, you see how some things may change between us?”

“Between Talokan and Wakanda?”

“No, not specifically,” Attuma replied, glancing over at Okoye as the firelight that lit the bank reflected in her deep brown eyes. “Between you and I.”

“Oh,” she said, and dipped her head. “Is that why you brought a chaperone?”

Attuma looked back to the Talokanil guard who was standing out of earshot but watching the pair.

“Yes.”

A beat of silence passed between them and Attuma felt like he needed to elaborate.

“You are of age, Okoye. A young woman. It’s not proper for us to be alone together anymore. We are no longer children. The time for childish games between us has passed.”

“But you are still my friend,” she said, lifting her gaze. “No impropriety would ever occur between us. I know you would protect me from such things.”

“I will always protect you,” he said and the earnestness in his voice made her breath hitch. “But, things have changed. And they will continue to change. I hope that – I pray to the gods that when they do, you will not view me any differently.”

Okoye smiled at her friend and reached for his hand. He took her small one in his large palm.

“Nothing will ever change how I view you, Silly Shark,” she teased, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Not a thing.”

[writeious-hand]

Holding Out for a Hero: Part 1

"Fine, I'll do it myself"

After watching the D&D movie yesterday, I have had *brain rot* for Xenk Yendar. And no fic has been posted. I want romance. And you know what they say - If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Probably will be multiple parts if the writing bug bites again.

Please be kind, I haven't published fanfic in years, and never on Tumblr.

After defeating Sofina and saving Neverwinter from the Wizards of Thay, the Thieves did try to lead a normal life.

Honestly.

However, it wasn't a surprise when on more than one occasion, Thay assassins showed up to try and kill them. So often in fact, that they had to constantly travel in order to stay ahead of their hunters, who would reanimate within hours of being killed, no matter how bloody Holga or Doric made the scene. They had made an enemy of Szass Tam after all, and he was not the forgiving sort.

Finding a letter on the corpse of their last assassin (they had taken to "liberating" all of their would-be killers' belongings before they were able to revive, as it really delayed the next time they would meet) showed that the tide of undead assassins would not be slowing any time soon. By order of Szass Tam, they were to be killed in the most painful ways imaginable with a mighty prize to whoever was successful.

So Edgin and the troop once again tracked down the illustrious Xenk Yendar to find a way to put the assassins in the ground, permanently. You couldn't always count on an overfed dragon to do the job for you.

"What do you mean, a cleric? Clerics are healers!"

Xenk turned to face Edgin. "Clerics are the holy warriors of the gods. They can use the light to perform miracles, yes, but they also can harness the gifts they have been given against the undead in ways unparalleled by even the mightiest warrior or wizard."

"For the record," Simon spoke up from behind Edgin, "I also thought they just stayed in their temples healing people. So do we just stay at one until they catch up with us again?"

While it would offer the party safety, as temples are normally built or given hallowed ground and no undead can step foot there, it was decided (mainly by Edgin) that they would have to set a trap if they wanted these assassins gone for good. And they would need a cleric. The only connection they had to a holy order was the Emerald Enclave, who supposedly had dealings in the past with a traveling cleric.

There had been a small faction of the Church of Eternal Winter which had frozen a swath of land in their forest. This cleric had come through and removed the taint of Auril and in return was given a seedling of their largest oak tree and a promise of a place to rest whenever they passed through the area. According to Doric, the cleric was an elf, though she didn't know which god she was in service to. The last time they had passed through was before Doric was born.

Their journey brought them to Loudwater, the city of grottos. In searching and questioning in the section of the city populated by elves, they did not receive a warm welcome. Asking around at the many temples of Lathander and other woodland gods, there were no clerics who traveled or were willing to leave on such a dangerous quest. The party upon exiting was stopped by an orcish man.

"Sounds like Lyra. Why are you looking for her anyway?" He looked the party up and down with suspicion. "She hasn't done anything wrong."

Edgin served his role as face of the party. "No, of course not, it's just that-"

"We heard she can kill our enemies."

"HOLGA!"

After the misunderstanding was cleared, the orc who introduced himself as Zedroar Brittlebone brought them out to the Forestview Gate and into the town of tents and other less permanent structures where the orcs who labored in the fields had lived for a long time.

"Lyra's been here for a while now, keeps saying she'll leave soon but always finds a reason to stay. Says there are stories left to be told but I think she'll just miss us."

As they passed through the camp they could see the relaxed atmosphere of the community that had been built. Ahead on the path, there was a whole crowd of children orcish, human, and a few mixed in of other races and combinations. They were all sitting around on blankets or each other, listening to a woman tell a story.

"And the mighty warrior let out a fierce roar, saying You'll never get her, fiend!" The children squealed with excitement and laughed at her attempt at a deep heroic voice. She was elven, most likely a sun-elf with her golden complexion. At the sight of her, Xenk began slowly backtracking but was caught by Edgin.

"What are you doing?"

"I never should have come here." His eyes never left her.

"What are you talking about? Do you know her?"

Xenk was able to pull his eyes away, and look into Edgin's soul. "If she sees me with you, she will never agree to help."

"Now wait just a minute."

"It is high time for me to return to Mornbyrn's Shield"

"You are afraid of her." Edgin knew he was right, when Xenk stopped struggling to get away.

"i am not afraid," Now Xenk wouldn't look him in the eye, "I just don't wish to reopen old wounds."

"Come on, man. We need both of you if this is going to work. Take it from someone who has had to deal with their past catching up to them almost constantly for the past few years. The only way to get closure, for whatever happened, is to face it head-on." Edgin reached a hand to where Xenk had taken cover behind one of the wooden buildings. "I'm sure she's probably forgotten about it, since you both have been around for a long time."

Approaching the group, their other companions turned to face them.

"Where were you guys?" Holga looked them both up and down suspiciously.

"Good news," Simon smiled, "Lyra agreed to help us, right?"

The elven woman turned around from gathering her things and saying goodbye to some of the children. The casual smile on her face fell as she locked eyes with the paladin.

"Xenk"

"Alariel"

[mcverse]

Summary: Trouble doesn’t stray far from the Sully’s. On a hunt, Lo’ak touches a baby animal and the mother doesn’t like it and calls for backup. The group gets separated, a few end up unconscious.

Pairings: neteyam x aviphoenix!reader, lo’ak x aviphoenix!reader, Ao'nung x aviphoenix!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: ( lmk if you think there is.) not proof read, heights, another chase scene similar to Avatar 1 (reminded by no.1), Neteyam is in this one, so is Ao’nung & Rotxo near the end,

Side Bar: Did you really think it’ll be easy to meet the Avi ppl? LO’AK IS SO UNDER-APPRECIATED, like where do y’all get off?? He’s not my fav but you gotta show him the love he deserves com’on

“Text like this only in italics” are Na’vi.

“Text like this in both italics and bold” are Avi, spoken b/w Avi & outsides.

“Text in just bold” are also Avi People, spoken b/w Avi only.

Text like this without quotations in italics are thoughts.

“Text like this” are in English.

Avatar Masterlist

Previous/Next

As you journeyed back to Flamehaven, you couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the forest floor with patches of golden light. The air was filled with the sounds of chirping and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

It was never your intention to stay in the forest for so long, but Eywa seemed to have other plans for you. What started as a simple task of gathering herbs had turned into an unexpected delay after your encounter with that Na’vi.

You patted the satchel on your hip with a small smile, glad that at least you had what you needed in the end. It took longer but the satisfaction was worth it. The herbs you had gathered were rare and valuable, and you knew they would be appreciated by the healers in Flamehaven.

A little bump on the trail was nothing for an Avi like you. While you may not have approached the situation like the mightiest warriors, you were still pleased with the outcome. Your previous training of remaining calm and thinking level headed has not gone to waste and had a purposeful use today. You were proud of how you handed it.

Still the encounter left you pondering about what’s to come of the outsiders once news hits home. The Avi, historically, were known for their peaceful ways, with many rituals and traditions centered around tranquility.

However, even with the best intentions, your people had encountered some bad aphl (applu) in the past. As expected, the Avi did not back down and were capable warriors when their way of life was threatened. There was more to them than just festivities and sacred places.

As you drew closer to the outskirts of Flamehaven, you felt a sense of anticipation and relief. Your heart was racing with excitement at the thought of sharing your experiences with your fellow Avi, and you looked forward to the comfort of home after your long night in the forest.

Your pace quickened as you approached the river, hopping across the rocks with ease. You could hear the water rushing by beneath you, and the cool mist of the spray was refreshing against your skin. As you approached the hidden passage to Flamehaven, you pushed aside the foliage curtain with a grin.

The sound of laughter and chatter greeted you as you went through, and you could see that the place was already lively. The Avi were busy going about their day, some tending to their gardens and others gathered around cooking fires. The smell of roasting meat and fresh herbs filled the air, making your stomach growl.

You felt a sense of comfort and belonging wash over you as you made your way through the village, heading in the direction of the chief hut. You greet a few Na’vi who had noticed your presence. They sent you warm smiles that only made yours grow. The familiar greeting and sounds of your home filled you with joy, its hard to describe it by anything but love.

Soon you approached the tree where the chief's hut was nested between two others, and began to climb up the worn hand and footholds that had been carved into the fire patterned bark over time. As you reached the top, you swing onto the platform and push aside the woven mat that serves as a door.

Inside, you see your grandmother, Níku the tsakihe (Tsahìk), sitting in the center of the room, meditating. Her eyes are closed, and her wings are folded neatly behind her back.

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to disturb her. But she senses your presence and speaks before you with her eyes still shut, "Whatever it is can wait. Tsuw'a Cet [Come sit]," she said, beckoning you over with a tilt of her head to the empty space beside her.

Normally, you wouldn't mind taking part in this calming activity, but you were too restless with the information you had. You hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to do as she said to avoid her persistence later on.

You sat beside her cross-legged, but your mind was elsewhere, still reeling from what you had witnessed in the forest. You knew it couldn't wait and would have to tell her soon, but facing your grandmothers wrath wasn’t an option either.

“Kawkkxn nga rawsem [Clear your mind],” Níku said as she picked up two crystals that lay haphazardly in front of her. “And open your hands.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, amazed by how she seemed to sense your lack of focus. Obediently, you followed her command, opening your hands to receive what you already know to be crystals.

She placed a crystal in each of your hands and you immediately closed your fingers around them, feeling a warm heat radiate from the stones. You waited for her next instructions.

Níku continued, “Breathe in the air, feel it filling you with life.”

Following her instruction, you inhaled deeply, your chest expanding as you held the air within for a few seconds before exhaling. As you repeated the process, you could feel your mind beginning to quiet, the outside world slowly slipping away.

“Feel Eywa’s love warming you up and Pho guiding you where you need to be,” Níku said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

The warmth from the crystals in your hands spreads through your body, grounding you and connecting you to the earth. You feel a tingle of energy in your fingertips and toes, and a gentle vibration in your chest. It was a tingle that felt right in the best way possible.

Meditating with your grandmother always felt different from meditating alone. It was a step up, for sure. The guidance and wisdom of her years of experience always brought a sense of comfort.

As you basked in the tranquility of the moment, Níku open her eyes as she asked, "How do you feel?" Although she already knew the answer based on your expression, she was always eager to hear her grandchild's thoughts and experiences.

You meet her gaze and can't help but smile. The stress and tension from before have melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and clarity, “I feel weightless like a Phoenix souring through the clouds, granny.” you replied, feeling grateful for her guidance and wisdom.

Her lips twisted into a smug grin and she raised her chin, obviously proud of herself. "Then I did what I'm best at. You were so tense walking in, I had to help my granbaby," she said, reaching up to pinch one of your cheeks. You couldn't help but smile at her playful gesture.

After letting go of your cheek, she took the crystals from you and carefully placed them on a nearby leaf. Folding the leaf in four, she placed it gently in a wooden box and closed the lid.

“Now tell gran what troubles you, baby," she said, turning to give you her undivided attention.

You took a deep breath before launching into your story, recounting your journey into the forest and the strange encounter with the wayward Na'vi and his resting clan. Níku listened intently, her wise eyes studying you as you spoke. When you finished, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, deep in thought.

The silence in the hut was palpable as you waited for her response. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened her eyes and looked at you with a solemn expression. "This is concerning news. We must gather the clan and hold a council to decide what action to take. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

You nodded, feeling relieved that you had shared your burden with your grandmother and knowing that she would guide you and the clan in the right direction.

In the early morning light, a group of elite warriors huddled together in the forest. They talked amongst themself, eagerly anticipating their upcoming exploration. Some of them carried crossbows and spears, while the eldest Sully had a hunting blade and the youngest had a classic bow.

Neteyam noticed his brother Lo’ak shifting his weight anxiously and looking off to the side absentmindedly. Concerned, he approached Lo’ak and draped his arm over his shoulder, "What's up, baby bro? You seem quiet today." He peered down in his face.

Lo'ak shrugged off Neteyam's arm, making him stumble back a feet, "Just had trouble sleeping last night," he admitted, watching his brother carefully. Though he didn’t give the reason why, he knew his brother would catch on fast.

As if reading his thoughts, Neteyam's expression hardened, sensing something was off, "Please tell me you didn't sneak out," he whispered harshly, grabbing his arm to drag them both further from the group.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes and glared at his brother. "What do you think?" he snapped back, already not liking Neteyam’s overbearing attitude.

Neteyam groaned in frustration, already knowing where this could all lead, "If Dad finds out, you’ll be grounded and lose all your privileges." His hand out in front of him, moving to emphasize his point as he talked.

Lo'ak considered his options and realized that his father was the least of his worries; his mother would be far angrier. She was definitely scarier. Nevertheless, he was confident that he had covered his tracks well.

He shakes his head to dismiss his brothers concern, "He won't find out. Besides you, only Kiri, Ao'nung, and Rotxo know," Lo’ak said confidently, smirking like he had it all solved.

There was a brief pause before Neteyam breaks it, “And Tuk.” He added.

"And Tuk?" Lo'ak repeated, confused as he looked at his brother for reconfirmation. He hadn't even noticed her there. How the hell didn’t he notice her? His heart dropped at the realization and cursed under his breath. If this was true, it was a royal fuck up.

Neteyam watched his brother Lo’ak with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "You couldn’t behave just once, Lo’ak?" he chided, knowing full well that his brother's recklessness was about to land him in trouble.

Neteyam dreaded the inevitable lecture that their father Jake would give to Lo'ak when he found out about his latest misadventure. He wished his brother would listen to reason and understand how much he was trying to look out for him.

Meanwhile, Lo'ak stood with pursed lips, lost in thought as he tried to figure out how to salvage the situation. He had taken a risk and wasn't sure if it had paid off. If worse came to worst, he could always resort to a bribe to buy Tuk’s silence, but he was unsure of what he could offer that would be persuasive enough.

Before he could dwell on it further, their attention was diverted by the arrival of their father, Jake, their mother, Neytiri, Tonowari, and Ronal. Lo'ak quickly mouthed to his brother that he would fill him in on what he had been planning later before turning his focus to the front.

Tonowari took a deep breath before speaking. "Ronal and I have agreed to stay behind and watch over those who remain," he announced, turning to Jake. "Neytiri and Jake will come with you."

Jake bowed his head slowly to Tonowari and then addressed the assembled warriors. "You are proven warriors, Eywa sees you... I see you. But this is not our land," he reminded them. Jake's eyes scanned the group, pleased to see that they were taking the situation seriously. "If we go out there, chances are we could encounter more enemies. I don't want another battle, so follow my orders and stay close."

The warriors cheered and shouted, psyching themselves up for what lay ahead. But Jake quickly silenced them. "Za’u [Come], we move on foot," he declared, taking his bow from Neytiri, who secured hers on her back. Together, they set out in the same direction that Lo'ak had been rescued from, with the other warriors following close behind.

Lo'ak couldn't help but silently hope that he would get another chance to see you again, hopefully while the sun was still up. The night made it difficult, and he didn't want to miss anything.

He simply wanted the chance to talk to you, no matter what you were. Your first encounter didn't go smoothly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about you. The only issue was that he wasn't traveling alone.

His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution in case the impossible became possible. He knew that it was definitely possible to see you again because you looked like the impossible. Although he was aware that Na'vi could look different depending on where they lived, you were unlike any Na'vi he had encountered before. He knew that you were not just Na'vi.

Lo'ak was tempted to tell Neteyam about meeting you, maybe even his parents because they had the right to know that they weren't alone. However, he didn't like the idea very much after thinking long and hard as he followed closely behind his brother.

He knew that they would immediately see you as a threat, the same regrettable mistake he had made. If that were to happen, you might never show yourself to him again, knowing that you were being targeted.

He couldn't risk it. He liked the fact that only he knew about something amazing out there, his little secret — well, your little secret too, when it came to him. He wondered if your people were close by, and if they knew of their existence as well. Maybe he should be concerned about that, but he couldn't bring himself to worry.

Lo'ak paused his thoughts, blinking back into reality when he saw Neteyam stop in his tracks, crouching low with alertness. Lo'ak cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings as he had been absentmindedly following his brother in the forest.

“Why’d we sto—“

Neteyam cut him off in a hushed tone, “Quiet,” he looked over to his right to his father, who held his hand up in a fist. They locked eyes, exchanging nods in silent understanding. Neteyam was sure that he heard something, and he wasn't the only one.

Neteyam gestured towards his ears and mouth, silently instructing Lo’ak to listen carefully and keep quiet. Lo’ak obeyed, trying his best to tune out the pounding of his own heart as he strained to hear any sounds. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was out there, or maybe someone.

His mind wandered again, entertaining the possibility that it could be you. His throat went dry as he tried to focus. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he finally picked up a sound. He turned his head in the direction of the noise, but all he heard was the rustling of leaves from the wind.

He grunted in annoyance, about to give up when he heard a grunt back. It was so close a grunt that he mistook it for Neteyam. However, a shake of the head from his brother indicated that it wasn’t him. Lo’ak’s heart raced as he realized that there was indeed something out here, just two hours into their journey.

No one else made a move to do anything. Everyone was frozen with held breaths but Lo’ak wasn’t. He grunted once again, then waits. Just to make sure he really heard it. It took a minute before he heard it back, he snaps his eyes to Neteyam, his blown wide in shock.

Neteyam looked at him with narrowed eyes, but Lo’ak didn’t hesitate, “Did you hear that too?” he whispered, a tad louder than before. He looked back towards the bushes where the noise was coming from, "I'm gonna go check it out," he warned Neteyam, approaching the bush cautiously.

Neteyam hurried behind Lo'ak, attempting to stop him from uncovering what was making the noise ahead. But Lo'ak was quick and peeled back the leaves to reveal a baby animal, similar to a Prolemuris, but with its own unique features.

Lo'ak reached down to pick it up, and the creature grunted again, but made no move to struggle. It had four arms, four eyes, and bluish-purple skin, and Lo'ak couldn't help but coo at the little thing.

Neteyam's grip tightened on Lo'ak's left shoulder, and he practically growled at him, panic in his voice, "Put it down!"

Lo'ak smiled, trying to reassure his brother that everything was okay. "Relax, bro! It's just a baby."

Movement to their right caught their attention, and Lo'ak's ears fell when he saw his father looking at him with a mixture of disappointment and fear, "Your brother’s right...put it back," Jake said, motioning for Lo'ak to return the animal to where he found it.

Lo'ak opened his mouth to argue, but Jake cut him off with a stern shake of his head, "No. Where there's a baby, there's a mother," he warned.

Neteyam nodded in agreement, and as if on cue, a deep growl rumbled from above, causing the three Sullys to freeze. Adrenaline seeped through their veins, kicking their flight or fight response into high gear.

Ever so slowly, they looked up, cursing together when they saw a larger version of the baby animal perched in the tree above them. It was far more terrifying and less cute than its baby counterpart, its tail swishing menacingly slowly behind it.

"Slowly put it down. Gently," Jake ordered, his eyes locked on the animal in the tree.

Lo'ak didn’t have the be told twice this time. He acted swiftly and deliberately, with a deep sense of caution as he carefully lowered the baby back into the bush. His heart was racing, and his breaths came in shallow gasps as he tried to remain calm and focused. His eyes darted back and forth between the mother and the child, ensuring that he did not lose sight of either of them, nor let his guard down for a moment.

Jake's voice broke through the tension, urging Lo'ak and Neteyam to back away slowly, "Ok. Good," he started, "Now back up. Do. Not. Run." He emphasized the last three words slowly, his tone laced with concern as he waited for the two boys to move away from the scene. All the while, he kept a watchful eye on the mother animal, determined not to lose track of her movements.

As Lo'ak and Neteyam retreated to a safe distance, Jake began to back away himself. However, his movements caught the attention of the mother animal, who lifted her head and fixed her eyes on him. The animal bared her teeth, revealing sharp, menacing fangs, and sniffed the air, grunting loudly.

Jake's heart sank as he realized that the situation was about to take a dangerous turn. He hoped he was mistaken, but his suspicions were confirmed when he heard a series of grunts and growls in the distance.

Turning to the warriors, he urgently gestured for them to run, "Run!" he shouted, his voice rising in panic. "Run!" he repeated, even louder this time, shaking the warriors into full gear. They started running, all going in the same direction at first. It’s when they looked behind him where all hell broke loose.

A group of over a dozen adult versions of the baby animal came charging towards them at an incredible speed, looking passive-aggressive as they tumbled over each other in their haste to reach their targets.

The Na’vi gasped in shock at the sight of them and stumbled over their own feet, discombobulated and unsure of what to do. They all started heading in different directions, desperately trying to get away from the charging animals.

Amidst the chaos, Jake spotted Neytiri a few feet away and quickly made his way towards her, his heart pounding in his chest, "The boys, where are they?" he asked urgently, scanning the area around them.

Neytiri hissed in frustration as she heard his question, "They must have gone in another direction," she replied, her eyes darting around as she tried to locate them, "We must find them!"

Cursing under his breath, Jake nodded in agreement, "We will," he said, determination in his voice, "But for now, we need to get somewhere safe," he added, glancing ahead to assess their surroundings and identify the safest path to take.

Lo’ak and Neteyam were sprinting through the dense forest, their chests heaving with exhaustion as they desperately tried to outrun the trail of enraged animals that were hot on their heels. Despite their fear and fatigue, they did not dare to slow down or look back, as they knew the animals would catch them in an instant if they did.

The other warriors they had been with had split off in different directions, which was a reckless move, but there was nothing Lo’ak and Neteyam could do about it now. They had to focus on their own survival and keep pushing forward.

The thudding of the animals' paws echoed through the forest, growing louder and closer by the second. Lo'ak and Neteyam could feel their anger and hunger, mostly directed towards Lo'ak for his involvement with the baby, but they both knew that being caught by them would mean certain death.

They ran until their legs felt like they were on fire, until they couldn't run anymore. Finally, the sounds of the animals chasing them began to fade away, giving them a moment of respite. They stumbled into a small clearing, hoping to find a way out, only to be met with the sound of rushing water. As they approached the edge of the stream, they realized it led to a waterfall with a terrifying drop.

Lo'ak turned to Neteyam, his chest still heaving with exertion, "We have to jump," he said, his voice low and urgent. He knew it was a dangerous move, but it was their only chance to escape the pursuing animals. "We have to."

Neteyam immediately shakes his head, stepping back from the edge, his eyes scanning the surroundings frantically for another way out, “No way. Find another way,” he insists, his voice laced with panic. The drop was… Eywa no way.

“There isn’t another way! They’re catching up,” Lo’ak pleaded with his brother, looking back and gasped in surprise as he saw Ao'nung and Roxto running their way with the pack of enraged animals hot on their heels.

Neteyam looked behind him and realized that Lo'ak was right. With a curse, he pulled Lo'ak closer to him, ready to take the leap, but before they could jump, they were toppled over by Ao'nung and Roxto, who had body-slammed into them with great force.

The force of the water at the length of the fall is tremendous, knocking them all unconscious on impact. The current carries them downstream, the water pounding against their bodies as they tumble along.

Things to know

Ao’nung is unmated. He doesn’t strike me as the type to settle down quickly. He actually takes that pretty serious given who his dad was.

Y’know why Lo’ak isn’t with Tsireya, but what about Neteyam. Well, Nete isn’t mated yet, even though he has plenty of offers before and especially after his war wound but he’s too focused on trying to get his dad to see him as anything other than disabled.

Yes, Jake was disabled before. He hasn’t forgotten what it felt like but it’s hard on him to see his son in similar shoes. He doesn’t want to limit him… he just doesn’t want him to suffer more due to another accident.

That loss of a friend in the prologue, if you haven’t guessed… it’s spider. I don’t hate him, I just strongly dislike him saving Quaritch. I understand why, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

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Tag list: @ratchetprime211, @eywas-heir, @strwwbbrri, @squidalapobre

[norteigr-if]

hvit ravni, kalld ýtar a leíde minn sjeili i streid.

NORTEIGR is a 18+ CYOA passion project taking place in the titular northern country of Norteigr and draws heavy influence from both Norse mythology and history, while being set in its own reality altogether.

You're no one in this world. Your memories are gone and all that you carry is your name. A history forgotten, only to be returned in vague whispers in your dreams.

Fate, coincidence, or sheer luck brings you to live in Midjabód, a town where you have to rebuild your life while learning both about the unrest that grips the country, and your fellow Midjabó, for better or worse. The Jarl is preparing for war, and you're left to navigate your own identity, the mounting hostilities, interpersonal relationships, and mysterious fragments of your past life you no longer recognize. Will you remember in time, and what calamity will follow if you don't?

DEMO TBA • PINTEREST • RO PORTRAITS • PLAYLIST

Characters / RO's

Vargi Geirfinnsson (M)

He almost put an axe in your face when you first met. You're pretty sure he still wants to put an axe in your face now, but the Jarl's orders are to treat you like one of their own and what kind of son would he be if he went against his father's orders. This doesn't stop him from being hostile in private, which probably means you should keep to the more populated areas if you wish to have a proper conversation with him.

While he holds unbridled suspicion and dislike towards you, he's well respected in Midjabód, and one of their best warriors to boot. He has few friends, being that he's mostly regarded as the son of the Jarl, and the mightiest berserkir in their Vikingr ranks, nothing else. Destined to follow in his father's footsteps, Vargi does everything asked of him and has the hardest time with failure, and refuses to see failure as an option even in the face of death. Armed with a short temper and a two sharp axes, he's best be left alone.

Broki Hrekisson (M)

A talented bard and storyteller, Broki was the first one to welcome you to Midjabód with open arms. Your first true friend after losing your memories, and the trailblazer to your recovery, Broki brings you objects and trinkets like a little crow just to see if it stirs something forgotten in you. This makes him a mighty good pickpocket as well, but you have been sworn to secrecy about those shady mishaps.

The other Midjabó pin him as a local celebrity, and there's no place you can go without at least one friend or admirer showing up. Boastful at times, mischievous at others, Broki basks in the attention and is always chasing a new way to keep the masses entertained. Although his tongue is sharp, his blade isn't and he never truly learnt what was so appealing about becoming a Vikingr, and holds to his quill rather than a sword.

Svala Alfdottir (F)

Svala was the one to mend your body when you arrived in Midjabód. As one of the priestesses of the town, Svala is the most respected member of the community, and people clamor for her favor, for her to put in a good word to the Gods. She has kept herself close to you, worried yet intrigued by your story of loss and feeling of not belonging, and thus uses her privilege to bring you closer to your past, through magic, herbalism, and meditation.

When the deerskin headdress comes off and blood washed away, Svala is a very soft-spoken woman. While her voice carries prayers to heavens during rituals, she shifts completely when she is let roam free of her responsibilities. She prefers quiet times with her sisters, and nature is her respite. Once a mischievous little girl, Svala also knows all the nooks and crannies around Midjabód, be it the hidden cracks by the mountains, burrows in the woods. or forgotten caves by the ocean.

Randveig Ulfbjorndottir (F)

No one thought a retired berserkir would take in a stranger to live in their home, but Randveig was the one who gave you shelter when you had none. She doesn't take anything in return, only citing that everyone needs someone to take care of them in their darkest hour. At those words, your eyes usually go to her missing sword-hand, and you think you get it.

Although Randveig can be stoic and quiet, her wit could bring even the most studious bards to their knees. Her mind is sharper than the sword that cut her hand, and she is uncannily smug, if in a slightly terrifying way. Her Vikingr past is behind her, but at times of too much ale, you see a different side to her; A young woman dancing on tables with her fellow warriors, taken back to a time when she was allowed to do what she loved best, at least until she schools herself to be just a tavern owner once again.

[dgrailwar]

Further Servant details under the cut:

HEPHAESTION:

A woman lacking a True Name. A shadow of the Conqueror King, Iskandar. Rather than a true 'Pretender', her actual class is 'Faker'.

A retainer to the king, her existence was made to serve him from birth. While she bears the name 'Hephaestion', that of the loyal confidant to the Conquering King, that is not her True Name. In truth, she is a nameless magus made to stop any curses from falling upon Iskandar, and a devout follower of the god Dionysus. A magical duplicate that draws curses intended for others into herself.

She exists as a proud warrior, not shying away from battle and proudly standing before her opponents. Due to not having a strong basis for her Saint Graph in legend, she would theoretically be a weak Heroic Spirit, but due to her studies of Age of Gods magecraft, possessing Mystic Eyes, being a warrior of Iskandar's trampling army, and her sharing skills and traits with the King of Conquerors himself, she is far mightier than one would expect.

Due to this, she's able to quickly switch between a skillset that resembles that of a formidable Caster, and one that resembles that of a mighty Rider without issue.

MUSASHIBOU BENKEI:

Musashibou Benkei was a warrior monk and a master of weapons, and one that could stand guard at a bridge to hold back even the mightiest of warriors. In some texts, they believe that he was potentially an oni due to his great strength.

As a Pretender, he is thoroughly aware that he is not truly 'Benkei', but has the abilities of his namesake in order to fight and bring honor to the real thing.

A loyal Servant to the bitter end, he does not swath himself with lies for the sake of his own personal gain, but to serve as a stalwart beacon for others. He wishes to tell the tale of the great Minamoto-no-Yoshitsune and his companion Musashibou Benkei with all he has in his heart, so that their legends will continue to persist and flourish for as long as possible. Therefore, he fights with all he has, as to not sully the name Saitou Musashibou Benkei

A Pretender in order to make up for past mistakes, he considers himself a cowardly man who will never make up for what he has done, however his role as a Servant is but the start of his arduous path towards redemption.

LADY AVALON:

An impish soul that watches others progress on their journey with a smile, a beautiful Mage of Flowers, 'Lady Avalon'.

An unholy union between man and demon, the Servant calling herself 'Lady Avalon' is a succubus by birth, and can drain the magic from enemies while also holding terrifying control over the dreams of others. She relishes in her inhuman nature, noting that she's fundamentally different than humanity, but still lends a helping hand- she claims simply for her own amusement.

She possesses a strong resemblance to the great wizard Merlin, both in appearance and in her magecraft. If she was Merlin, then she'd be one of the most renowned mages in human history. She'd be a master of spellcraft, with immensely powerful Clairvoyance and possess the title of one of the greatest wizards of the British Isles. She'd even be a Servant that qualifies for the Grand Caster seat, noting her strength among magi throughout history.

You know, if she was. But Merlin is a Caster, and a man- and she's a Pretender, and a woman… so this Servant who is Merlin's true equal simply calls herself 'Lord Merlin's younger sister' without any further explanation.

FAIRY KING OBERON:

The Fairy King from William Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

He possesses a lighthearted and affable nature, being able to quickly read the room and play to the hearts of others- the type of guy who knows the right thing to say at any given moment. He claims to not have much experience in combat, being more used to giving orders or having others fight for him and playing support, though he offers to try his best.

That is the 'Oberon' that presents himself as a Servant, the surface layer being a charming prince that cares for others and loves the world around him with his entire heart. He shows a great curiosity towards others and the stories that they tell, and despite his charisma, often finds himself struggling with money.

However, as he is a Pretender, his core is 'lies'. An abyss, leading to nowhere, roils at the center of his Saint Graph- though he keeps it hidden away with a blasé smile and a casual demeanor.