#legend of the phoenix imagine

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hey! Are you still taking requests? If yes, then can you please write a Pan An from legends of Phoenix x Reader? I have been playing it for a while now you are literally the only person on the internet who writes bout them.😅 but If you cannot, then it's okay. I understand. :)

The most beautiful poet of his time, Pan Yue was born a prodigy, so when he met you, he was already well aware of all of his fortes, yet still remained humble and gentle as always.

Like most, he was well aware that his legendary beauty was what made you turn your head and look at him, but unlike them all, you remained by his side for his literary talent and his stories.

Pan An, although grateful for all the gifts he was born with, always felt frustrated because they always hindered his advancement in the political royal ranking, and had all the other officials plot against him and even wish him death.

Still, all those threats were easily washed away whenever he spent time with you. He felt most at ease when he watched you doing any of your hobbies, be that baking cakes, cooking, playing an instrument, singing, painting, writing poems, embroidering... Or even just admiring flowers.

He often found himself writing short poems about you and how much he cherishes you more than the Sun itself.

Though known as a melancholic poet, his verses turned so wholesome and heartfelt that all the female population of China dreamt those rhymes were written about them.

He loves SO much to compliment you, and he always finds new ways of pampering you in all kinds possible - His silver tongue does wonders whenever he comes up with new pet names, just to see your visage flustered with embarrassment.

He knew though - You loved the affection and clinged to it like a kitten leaning into his palm, waiting for pampering.

It is said that, whenever Pan Anren would go out, women would gift him fruit, so he would return home with a carriage full of them, only the best fruit from the province - He’d be a bit uncomfortable with the idea of sharing gifts given by fans, hoping it wouldn’t make you jealous or upset, but if you’re okay with it, he would give you the sweetest of them.

He’s a fantastic listener and gives great advice, so he’d me more than happy to be there and listen to anything that bothers you and help you out with anything in his power - After all, though little, he still has some significant influence.

Through the good and the bad, he would stick by your side and love you endlessly, cherishing and making sure you know how much he loves you, to the moon and back, and you will be reminded of that with each and every poem he writes about you and his feelings for you.

[toastingpencils37]

Imagine how the people of Chima would feel to know that both the beings of fire & ice left their kingdom, then randomly some oddly not animalistic people popped up who were able to control fire & ice, along with other things.

I think they'd lose their minds over that, especially the fire part.

[etruatcaelum]

[ @the-gray-maiden // for ozpin ]

Meeting student outside the comforting emptiness of the headmaster’s office always makes him uneasy—even if the student in question isn’t, strictly speaking, a student anymore. Given the circumstances, though, extending an invitation to the campus had struck Ozpin as an insensitive thing to do. So here they are: wrapped in heavy silence on a bench in the little park a few blocks away from the guildhouse where Lia had, not an hour ago, been allowed on the thinnest of margins to keep her license. For what little it might be worth to her now.

“I’m… so sorry,” Ozpin says at last. Not yet half a year gone by since the massacre, and he cannot fathom the violence it has done to her soul to be swept so immediately into this furious controversy. “Both for the losses you have suffered and that I could not do more to shield you from—that.”

He makes a feeble gesture toward the guildhouse, the words hollow for knowing that it isn’t over; there is still the police investigation, the council’s inquiry at Beacon, the punishing court of public opinion.

“…None of it is your fault,” he adds. “People often try to comfort themselves in the wake of tragedy by finding someone to blame; it’s frightening to admit that terrible things can happen for no reason.” Or for reasons more horrifying than anyone partaking in this firestorm could imagine. “It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the fears of the public.” A pause. “If there is anything more I can do to help…”

[mazojo]

OhhH who to have the counter part of my evidence list so we can work together to pinning down the corrupt police force ohhHhh me and who??

[sitp-recs]

15 fics with Harry pursuing unusual careers

I love the adrenaline and potential angst within the Auror partners trope as much as the next guy, but we can all agree that our mental health improves 10 times when we see Harry leaving the Ministry, embracing other possibilities and making his own destiny. This rec list hopes to celebrate those creative, disruptive, feel-good fics that are not afraid to come up with the most absurd positions and original job titles. They can be fun, smutty, depressing, hopeful or cathartic; there’s a little bit of everything in here and I’m hoping to bring some hidden gems into everyone’s radar, too. Happy readings!

Twisted Wizards by Enchanted_Jae (T, 3k)

Draco is just putting his life back together when Potter comes along and mucks it all up again. Job: storm chaser

The R. Correspondence by noeon (T, 7.5k)

While working on the Bagshot papers, Draco makes an important discovery for British Wizarding History. Now if only Harry can keep him alive long enough to enjoy it. Job: private security consultant

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping. Job: writer

Home County, orphaned (G, 10k)

Harry is an architect and the reluctant part-owner of his own firm. Malfoy works at The Ministry but doesn’t actually have a proper job title even though what he does sounds as though it’s pretty important. Job: architect

A Working Title by mindabbles (E, 12k)

Another in the long line of absurd biographies finally drives Harry to a desperate act. How desperate he doesn't know until his ghost writer shows up at his door. Job: Daily Prophet columnist

An Improbable Bout of Summer Madness by acari (E, 16k)

Draco had planned a quiet, peaceful summer holiday with his son. The last thing he expected was to find Potter here, in Draco's little Cornish retreat. Making fudge in a shop? The idea was too ludicrous for words. Job: fudge shop owner

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. Job: wandmaker

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid (E, 20k)

Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be. Job: Handyman

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world. Job: QUABBLE official (Quidditch representative)

Silhouettes in Sunsets by Pie (T, 22k)

Draco Malfoy was a Gringotts accountant by day and a luthier by night, making musical instruments that sang the language of the player’s heart, language audible only to the ears of his soul mate. Harry Potter was a struggling quill pal to the children of war and the owner of Hedwig’s Owl Emporium on Diagon—haven for future pets, owls retired from services and orphaned chicks. Job: Owl Emporium owner

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win. Job: broomstick racer

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (T, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Job: Owner of a Social Housing and Care Centre

All Roads by @korlaena (M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out. Draco doesn’t want to face the truth about himself, but he’s stuck between Harry and his duty, and he’s out of options. Job: Magizoologist

Whimsical by strawberryrose (T, 42k)

In which Draco is completely out of his depth (until he isn’t), Harry builds something improbable with the help of his friends, and everyone bonds over food. Job: amusement park owner

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Job: lighthouse keeper

[thebadboyfanclub]

Grow Forever, Never Yield (Aemond x Reader)

This was actually the easiest one to write, I loved writing this character and wanted to write a slightly enemies to lovers type of thing, this was requested by @aegvn I hope this is what you imagined and you enjoy it as much as I did

“The prince has surpassed me in his sword fighting skills I am no longer a worthy opponent to him, I would like to invite another skilled warrior to court”

“Whom will that be Ser Criston?”

“The lady (y/n) Phoenix”

“Of firebend? They would never allow their own to join our court”

The house of Phoenix at the firebend land was amongst the last of the rebels and as allied themselves with the Dornish during the age of Aegon the conqueror, inevitably they came to a treaty of peace with the Targaryen king that allowed them somewhat freedom if they agreed to acknowledge Targaryens as the true kings, in retaliation they decided to make the words of their house be

“Grow forever, never yield”

The lady (y/n) was the second child of Nevan Phoenix, she was known for her skill at yielding a sword amongst all of 7 kingdoms, the girl was young, mayhaps a year or two Aemonds senior still she had established herself to be a legend and a name that could install fear to any knight with a mixture of the men wanting to meet this legend that came from the far lands of firebend.

“Who would be better at preparing a prince for any battle other than what they call “the strangers' daughter”?”

The house of Phoenix had been in battle when she was just at the age of 14, thankfully the girl seemed to scoff at death, (y/n) had come victorious and led her brothers' army better than any man would have, to gaze upon her stallion as she held her sword and waited to give the signal to charge was a sight only a few could witness,

“If you die, die with honor”

(Y/n) would often say to her soldiers, some even whispered that even though she got injured she kept on fighting, hence the nickname of her being a descendant of the God of death.

Otto leaned back in his chair, it would be a great opportunity to remind the Phoenix of their treaty, with Viserys getting weaker and Rhaenyras claim shaking if Aegon had Phoenix on his side then others would follow only out of fear of facing her in battle.

“I suppose sending a raven would not be so bad”

“I will arrange it, thank you, lord hand”

-

(Y/n) was already bored of kings landing, the place reeked of piss and the common folk is starving, she had opened the window of her carriage and she could already count dead bodies that lay on the streets.

“What is the purpose of dragons and glory if you cannot even take care of your land and people?”

“Unfortunately some kings do not see past their noses and tall castle walls”

Her father responded he was not pleased with the visit either, howbeit he had given up his seat as the lord of the land to his firstborn son Henley since Nevan had phrased it as

“I am too old to support my family, I shall pass the torch and legacy to a mind full of ideas and a heart full of zest for life”

Henley was a noble and wise young man, peaceful and certainly diplomatic, he could talk his way out of anything before his opponent could even comprehend what had happened.

(y/n) was close to her dear brother and was immensely proud of the man he had grown to be, Henley’s first decision was to announce (y/n) as the First Lady commander of the knights, she was the reason he was alive.

“Why did we even agree to this? I do not wish to train a spoiled brat of a prince”

“Aemond Targaryen is a prince and mounts a very large dragon, as much as we are rebels at heart we must pick our battles wisely”

Her father advised her making her blow bubbles out of boredom mixed with denial of his words standing true, they could have easily found a way to deny the invite, she was certain that her brother hid behind this act of kindness, to keep their end of the bargain and appear as a pacifist leader to avoid conflict.

Before (y/n) could utter another smart remark and ridicule the name “Targaryen” even further she was interrupted by the carriage coming to a halt, she took a deep breath as a way to steal time and gather herself along with restraining her attitude.

“Let’s get this over with”

She spoke in a gritted tone before she got off their carriage to stand next to her father, before she was standing at the queen and lord hand, along with a young girl and boy, the queen did her best to hide her surprise at the young lady’s appearance, however (y/n) picked up at the widen eyes and clench of the fists which only made her smirk.

“Queen Alicent, I must thank you for the invite to your court”

“Welcome to kings landing lord Phoenix, it is an honor to have you and your daughter here”

(Y/n) chose to stay silent, her demeanor was cold and stoic as she held her head high and her chest puffed out, she mirrored her father down to his core, a true warrior.

Her copper hair was pulled back to one thick braid making her scar that overtook almost the entire left side of her face even more intense and visible, it was quite ironic since Aemonds had lost his right eye whilst the lady was missing her left.

The scar she held was twice the size of Aemonds, whoever did it wanted to cause pain and even craved to disfigure her, Aemond thought that not only did that person fail but since the lady was standing and had created a legend out of her name the person was unsuccessful, she was the most interesting person Aemond had ever seen, he never thought he would say a such thing but “she wears it well”

Her clothing was a dark dress but if you took a close look the detail of it was marvelous, you could even observe the drawing of a Phoenix at the hem of it, it was certainly eye-catching yet it embodies her character.

“Is this why you asked us to train the prince? You believed I would be best because of our similar injury?”

(Y/n) was visibly offended by this coincidence, it was truly not Ser Coles's intention nor reasoning behind his choice of a teacher, it all came down to the tales of her talent that he had heard amongst other soldiers.

(Y/n) spoke in a calm tone yet her voice was stern and demanding, she stared at Aemonds soul with fire in her eyes, Aemond was also taken back by the lady, it was the first time he had seen someone as young as him that has suffered the same fate as him.

“No, my lady, we do not wish to offend you, we merely admire your accomplishments”

Ser Criston took a step forward as he was the one responsible for (y/n)s arrival to court, silence overtook the group as Nevan was also skeptical now that he was present, he also did not want to intervene since it might make the matters worse knowing his daughters' temper stops at nothing when she feels disrespected or threatened.

“We have heard tales of you but you are beyond our expectations, my lady, we just wish for our prince to learn from the best”

“Very well, I think we had enough pleasantries, we are not here to sweet talk one another, I shall rest for the rest of the day, I will see the prince on the morrow at your training yard, I do not want to be disturbed by anyone unless it is my father until then, whom will escort us to our chambers?”

-

(Y/n) had whipped the prince to shape, she was resilient, cunning, and tireless, Aemonds entire body ached so bad that he had to sit in a bath of scorching water just to ease his muscles for at least an hour.

(Y/n) had once barged in and laughed at him, she ridiculed him with her words as Aemonds face showed no emotion as she spoke, well mostly as she laughed at him from her high horse “Was she also in pain? Probably too stubborn to admit that the practice also took a toll on her” he thought as he watched her go back and forth in front of him, though he was filled with rage from her little stunt, how dare she walk in at a such vulnerable hour.

“What type of lady walks in so shamelessly when a man is bare? I take it as a sign of you not being a true maiden?”

“Is that all you got? Your pride is so bruised that you cannot think of a better insult than one of my virtue? I suppose it suits a man, still, I would take not being a maiden if I had to choose to be that or laying with my brother or uncle”

Aemonds next move was something that she did not even expect, he rose revealing every single part of him, to Aemonds surprise (y/n) was unfazed and just eyeballed him straight in the face, she did not even glance for just a minute past his neck nor was there any sign of her being uncomfortable.

“I understand that in your land you have different customs but you are in kings Landing now, Vhagar is quite peckish around this hour and you would surely be a delectable snack to her”

“You can do as such that is true, are you sure you want to face the wrath of my family? We did not name our land firebend for nothing”

(Y/n) had a way of pushing his buttons, sending him to madness, and forcing him into losing his cool was her favorite hobby, one would suppose it is befitting if you take into consideration that her family's entire legacy was to oppose the Targaryens and remind them that they would always be the thorn that bled their reputation, even going as far as to making their sigil a Phoenix with its wings spread, the animal that is known for rising amongst the ashes, the ashes of dragon fire in this situation.

Aemond relished walking in the garden upon the hour of the ghosts, it was the only time this forsaken castle was quiet, Aemond had lived almost his entire life in solitude, not a child that made friends naturally and that worsened after Driftmark, the silence brought him comfort as the breeze went through him was refreshing.

“Incoming”

A voice erupted as someone attacked him from the back, luckily Aemond was quick on his feet and ducked just in time to miss the spike of a sword only by an inch, Aemond was unharmed and forced to defend himself with his bare hands.

“You sneaky bitch”

He spat as he went into defense, he could barely see her from the darkness that surrounded him as she marched at him with full force, you could hear their grunts as they had a go at one another.

“You think every war will be in broad daylight and fair? Some bastard can attack you even when you take a piss”

She taunted him, (y/n) did not hold back nor empathized with the prince who was put in a situation that wasn’t beneficial to him whatsoever, on the contrary, she was thoroughly enjoying seeing him struggle.

Aemond had suffered from attacks ever since the incident, in this moment he was pulled back into the time he was a boy and had to come out alive after his nephews resorted to violence over Vhagar, his breath was short and sharp as his eye squinted and had started to sweat.

Aemond grew vicious, not caring for precautions or if he made some serious damage to her, in his delirium he was placed in a death or life situation and he would be damned if he did not come out of this alive and well.

(Y/n)s laughter was replaced by a loud grunt and a thud once her back was forced against the wall and Aemonds hand was by her neck, his fingers clenching her airway making it harder for her to draw a breath.

“Yield”

He commanded in a low tone at her as she struggled under his grasp, he detected the struggle in her eye, even then her pride was strong, visible since she refused to make a sound and did her best to keep her composure, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of taking her as weak.

At that moment something in him changed, instinctively his chest collided with hers, the warmth of her body was inviting and her scent of vanilla was mouthwatering, he didn't even realize how close he had come to with his nose tracing her neck.

(Y/n) grew goosebumps at the strange sensation though she was thankful that Aemond was distracted enough to loosen his grip, she remained still as she took a few breaths to relax her system and regain her strength.

“What are you doing?”

“I was imagining a blade gracing this gorgeous neck of yours”

“Strange, I would love to do the same to you”

Aemond let out a sound of pain at the sudden move of (y/n) kneeing him in his stomach, she wanted to go for the crotch still she decided it would be best to spare him this one time.

Aemond took a step back however he laughed between his agony at her stubbornness of not wanting to admit that she enjoyed the intimate encounter as much as he did, his arms hugged him to soothe his stomach from the pain while she looked down at him, her hands were shaking and for a minute she wanted to run away, hide after being caught like a little girl that was eyeing the stable boy.

“It was silly of you to ask me to yield, you have forgotten I am a Phoenix, a word of advice for next time, never lose focus”

“I never lost focus my lady, I had no weapon, so I used what was available, my charm”

“Well judging by the fact I only kneed you and did not draw my sword from the belly button to your shoulder then never do that again”

“Was it truly that repulsive or are you just so prideful that you do not crave to admit that you liked it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous”

“Am I? Sweet (y/n)”

His voice was melodic as he got closer to her once again, now it was her that was defenseless and she was back again to the wall, the eye contact between them never broke as Aemonds hands found their way to the sides of her waist, (y/n) was frozen, for once in a life she did not know what to do.

Aemond was in full control when his nose brushed against hers and (y/n) closed her eyes letting out a breath that parted her lips ever so slightly.

“Seven hells, let us not do this”

“Why? The sweetest bite comes from the forbidden fruit”

“Mayhaps, but I am no fruit, I am a warrior and you are a stuck-up, obnoxious, little prick”

“A little prick that has you blushing, it is alright, I am a gentleman, and I will not expose you if you choose to take a bite”

Requests are open!

[angstintensifer]

My Ashlynn Ella headcanons

making this bc shes been my fav character in eah since like 2013 tehe

Ashlynn is autistic and one of her special interests are shoes and nature, as she has such strong feelings about caring for it and the environment in general.

I can also vouch for this as sometimes her dialogue consists of nature and her love for shoes, as an autistic person I know that we like to talk about our special interests a lot.

Ashlynn's love of shoes also comes from learning the story of Cinderella from her mother.

Ashlynn and her mother would bond over fashion and shoes when she was young, Ashlynn would also steal her mother high heels and always get them dirty by going out into the woods.

Ashlynn and her father aren't that close, he has a kingdom to run and doesn't care for animals or chores or shoes or anything Ashlynn finds interesting. He can often treat Ashlynn like a push over and tries to buy her love with money rather than spend time with her.

One of the reasons Ashlynn didn't want to marry a prince because of how they acted, entitled and royal, that is because of her father and how he treats the things Ashlynn and her mother care about. Instead Ashlynn wanted someone who shared her values and interests.

Ashlynn can communicate with animals and sometimes finds it easier to talk to them about her struggles instead of her friends, this would be more prominent in s1 when Ashlynn and Hunter's relationship was a secret. She would explain a date in detail to her pet Phoenix because she couldn’t tell anyone else.

She feels like she can be completely herself around animals, they don't hold judgement or resentment the way humans do.

Ashlynn always supported Briar's decision to not sign the storybook of legends as Ashlynn always hated the idea of losing Briar to her destiny.

Ashlynn has boundary issues and is a major push over, she has a hard time saying no to people and will put others needs before her own whether she likes it or not. This also ties into her Cinderella destiny as the step family in it constantly give Cindy orders that she complies too.

Certain people can see this clearly and will either help her through them (Briar, Apple, Crystel, Farrah, Hunter, basically anyone close to her)

or use them against her (Her future step sisters)

Ashlynn always makes sure any shoes sold at her shop are made from materials that did not come from animals. And sometimes the money she earns at the shop she gives to charity.

Her dream destiny is become an environmentalist and help the environment instead of becoming a princess, but she doesn’t like to admit it out loud because she’s afraid to pursue it as she feels she’ll be letting down everyone, her mother, Farrah and whoever her destined prince is.

She feels guilt very deeply, she felt guilty about lying to her friends about her relationship, she felt guilty for not wanting the amazing destiny she was determined to have.

Ashlynn is also a Tailer Quick fan and her favourite album is fearless.

The enchanted forest is her favourite place in ever after.

She adores ice skating and dancing with headphones because it lets her imagination run free and it exercises her energy.

She stims a lot but fidgeting with her hands, she needs something to do with her hands in order to focus. (Hunter once noticed this and asked her to make a flower crown for Pesky)

She’s terrible at making decisions under pressure and over thinks a lot. She gets her fashion design inspiration from the nature around her.

Ashlynn and Duchess aren't exactly friends but Ashlynn does feel bad for her, Duchess made her realise that she was taking her own destiny for granted when hers has a happily ever after and Duchess's story doesn't.

Ashlynn knows that if Duchess were to apologize for trying to expose her and Hunter. Ashlynn would forgive her.

Apple, Briar and her have been best friends since they were children, they are all very loyal to each other.

Ashlynn is a very private person so she doesn't like to be open about a lot of things about herself unless she's comfortable with someone. (most of the time its usually with animals)

Ashlynn is a light sleeper so when Briar snores sometimes, Ashlynn has ear plugs to help her sleep.

Ashlynn always gets early, she's a huge morning person and loves a walk in the sunrise.

Ashlynn and Raven became very good friends after legacy day, Ashlynn will never forget the hope she got after Raven didn't sign the book.

They definitely bond over being Tailer Quick fans.

Ashlynn and Cerise become friends after her and Hunters relationship is out. Ashlynn greatly respects Cerise and wanted to get to know her as she’s one of Hunters close friends.

After Cedar found out about Ashlynn and Hunter. Cedar became Ashlynn’s go to person to talk about the relationship (as we see in true hearts day)

Ashlynn dreads the day her mother will die and that she’ll only be left with her father.

While away at Ever After High, Ashlynn calls her mom very frequently, more so in legacy year because it felt all more real for Ashlynn that her mothers death was coming soon.

[mackdizzy]

[my gift for @thecooleraveragejamm , for @mcyt-valentines !]

Okay, so!

My giftee was interested in c!Technoblade and a playlist, so I made a little song cycle! The cycle is in 8 parts (acts) with 7 songs each, and the whole thing will take just under 3 hours to listen to, with each individual act being 20-25 minutes. I'm posting the graphics, song lists, and spotify playlists (there are 8 separate playlists) in order, but if spotify isn't your jam, isn't accessible, or if you'd rather all in one go, at the end of this post (along with some more info about the cycle) is a youtube playlist that contains all 56 songs all at once!

Act 1: World Conqueror • I'm Born to Run (American Authors) • Taking Over the World (Coyote Theory) • Aulon Raid (The Mountain Goats) • Renegades (X Ambassadors) • Ends of the Earth (Lord Huron) • Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Lorde) • Immortals (Fall out Boy)

Act 2: (We Have) The Blade • The Horror and the Wild (The Amazing Devil) • Revolution (The Score) • Riot (Hollywood Undead) • Legend (The Score) • The Phoenix (Fall Out Boy) • Raging Fire (Phillip Phillips) • Unstoppable (The Score)

Act 3: Interlude; Peer Pressure • Borderline (Tame Impala) • Angry Too (Lola Blanc) • Victorious (Panic! at the Disco) • Blood (End Credits) (My Chemical Romance) • Bang! (AJR) • Sinners (Barns Courtney) • Never Going Back (The Score)

Act 4: Die Like One • Pale White Horse (The Oh Hellos) • Point of No Return (Starset) • Let's Kill Tonight (Panic! at the Disco) • Rebels (Call Me Karizma) • Enemies (The Score) • Born Ready (Zayde Wolf) • This is it (Oh The Larceny)

Act 5: Retirement or; • Thousand Eyes (Of Monsters and Men) • People I Don't Like (UPSAHL) • Whatever it Takes (Imagine Dragons) • Under the Pressure (The Score) • Another Way Out (Hollywood Undead) • Monster (Willyecho) • Ghost (Confetti)

Act 6: Welcome Home Theseus (Minor Acts of Terrorism) • Play Dirty (Kevin McAllister [SEBELL]) • Emperor's New Clothes (Panic! at the Disco) • Wrecking Ball (Mother Mother) • Glory and Gore (Lorde) • Bang Bang (Hippo Campus) • Allies or Enemies (The Crane Wives) • Novocaine (Fall Out Boy)

Act 7: It Ends Today (I'm a Person) • Roots (Imagine Dragons) • Wolves (Sam Tinnesz, Silverberg) • My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light 'Em Up) (Fall out Boy) • Fire (Barns Courtney) • Wine Red (The Hush Sound) • Take Me To War (The Crane Wives) • Ready Set Let's Go (Sam Tinnesz)

Act 8: Sic Semper Tyrannis • Bit by Bit (Mother Mother) • Up The Wolves (The Mountain Goats) • Creature (Half • Alive ) • Kings (Tribe Society) • Run Like A Rebel (The Score) • The Ballad of the Broken Bones (The Low Anthem) • Hieroglyphs (The Oh Hellos) ━━━ ➼ ━━━━

I tried to pick music that aesthetically, musically, and lyrically matched c!Techno's vibes--the playlist follows his story from pre-DSMP to post-Doomsday (so not the whole thing, but a nice, peaceful ending point). The intention is for you to follow c!Techno's journey as you listen, and I think this playlist has a rather nice message about finding yourself and finding peace through rather hostile circumstances and worldviews. It gave me a lot of peace and joy to make, and I hope you enjoy, giftee and anyone else, and have fun listening! Youtube Link

[assaultvvyvern]

magical dimension: the magic system

second general worldbuilding post! here's how i imagine the power system works in this handy dandy scheme that i've made:

more explained under the cut! i'll make a separate post in detail for pos+neg magic and witches and fairies and all

the great dragon, the great leviathan and the shadow phoenix are known in the magical dimension as the three creator forces. the great dragon created the magical dimension with the power of its breath. the leviathan came from its own dimension from which it got lost (the infinite ocean), aided the dragon and showed it how to create waters, but its power was too great and destructive for the dragon so it retreated back into the infinite ocean. then the shadow phoenix came, who wanted to cover the world in darkness. it and the dragon fought and after being defeated it also retreated in its own dimension of darkness (relix).

legend says some of the phoenix's ashes managed to fall and stay in the magical dimension, and that's how the power of the phoenix managed to survive.

the great dragon was tired and wounded after the battle, so it chose the planet of domino as its resting place for about a millennia. before dying it passed onto the royal family of the planet the power of its flame so they could keep it safe.

the difference between the phoenix and the leviathan is that the first was born in the magical dimension and thus its power can exist there without the entire dimension collapsing, the second cannot. the infinite ocean probably existed way before the magical dimension itself even.

even though its rawest form is the dragon flame, the power of life that the great dragon granted is in every living thing. this makes it so any sentient human can become either a fairy or a witch by birth, and so anyone can harness magic if they study and practice it hard enough. this also means there can be fairies and witches with domain over any aspect of nature, life, emotions, science, etc.

the shadow fire and the dragon fire can interact with each other (ex: there can be a fairy paladin that can use the glowing fire or there can be a witch/fairy of the shadow fire). however, it's extremely difficult for them to find balance.

[darklinaforever]

Wedding present/ gift for after she becomes queen zuko gives katara, zuko manages to find more dragon eggs, this time blue dragons. He gives one to Katara. Yes I want this mostly because imagine when (a better written) legend of korra comes around and ambassador/queen mother katara comes to teach Korra water bending and she comes to the south pole on the back of her big blue dragon all badass looking and queenly.

And the dragon is so sweet and nice, and loves Korra and Naga, but if you hurt his queen he cooks you alive. Basically Katara's dragon is a protective zuko but sweeter.

Oh my God ! A blue dragon for Katara given by Zuko as a wedding gift ?! I would love it ! Even only within the framework of their great friendship! I'm literally working on the concept of a story based on a romance / fantasy, coded Zutara, and the girl with water summoning powers actually has a dragon. But a water dragon, precisely, to correspond to Asian mythology. While the boy will have a phoenix. I really like imagining this alternate universe where Zutara took place ! Especially when we have ideas like that !

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

um so

i drew like the average PD house (will draw more stuff)

since i wanted to talk about stuff

(i made it on minecraft but also traced over it to show off just a little more accurately how i imagine it. they're basically the exact same tho, so... sorry. would work better with a less simple design lol)

in PD, they don't have a lot of import, due to being very very poor, and so have to rely mostly on local materials to form their houses. this is often just wood. They will do as little work as they need to, so this wood will used in its log form as often as possible.

due to PD being quite hot, they have a lot of thin, slitted windows around the buildings, to keep up ventilation whilst avoiding anything unseemly being able to break in. for similar reasons, houses in PD are built upon a foundation, to make it harder for the undead to be able to reach in.

PD also has a small amount of resources, so smaller, on-storey houses are preferred. they also often have only one room for everything, but older buildings with larger families will sometimes have rooms built onto the sides.

if any residents also work from home/live at their place of work, there will be a room dedicated towards their particular craft.

the architecture isn't paricularly unique, not stylised, as they don't have the luxury to care about anything other than practicality. occasionally, houses will be painted with red paint, since there are quite a few beetles that can produce such a pigment in the area. but it's not very common.

there's also a lot of fireflies in PD, which gave the village part of its name. Fireflies are nicknamed a lot of things based upon superstition, including 'Phoenix Tears', and so there's a lot of mythology and legends surrounded why PD has such a large firefly populace, which helped inspire its name.

[saintsenara]

thank you very much for the ask, anon! it turned out that questions 1 and 2 sent me a bit feral, so they're queued up in a separate post... allowing this one to focus on the unhinged and deranged potential of ronius.

which - i'll be honest - is not quite as unhinged and deranged as one might think...

although my answer about it as a pure crackship would be influenced by a headcanon i remain committed to purely for my own amusement that harry is the only person who believes sirius to be unfathomably good-looking pre-azkaban [the girl in the defence against the dark arts exam was actually checking out lily! harry saw what he wanted to see!] and still retaining vestiges of these magnificent looks after it.

i like the idea of ron - canonically a real hottie himself - not being entirely sure what all the fuss is about, not least because sirius hasn't seen a dentist in fifteen years. harry's sighing every night about how lucky ron is while everyone else pats sirius on the back for bagging himself a tall and sporty legend with great hair, a chill personality, and a fourteen-inch wand.

but my more serious response to this ship would be that it joins the pile - with snon and ronmort - which are made plausible by the fact that ron is, at heart, someone who cares.

in goblet of fire, harry, ron, and hermione all have broadly similar views of sirius - that he's a clever, sensible adult who can be trusted to help them with the mystery they find themselves in. ron is reassured that harry tells sirius about his scar hurting, for example, because he thinks it's a given that sirius will know what to do about it - and he believes that any information sirius gives harry throughout this book is completely above reproach.

ron also clearly thinks that sirius is cool - him trying to get sirius to agree with him that hermione's passion for house elf rights is ridiculous very much has the vibe of him wanting sirius to acknowledge him as a sophisticated man-of-the-world; which him being pissed-off when sirius suggests the trio are too young to understand what things were like in the first war also illustrates.

[which i think sirius respects him for - he obviously admires a bit of bolshiness, and he also obviously adores the loyalty ron and hermione have for harry.]

and so i think that you can absolutely imagine ron developing a little crush on sirius - to go with his broader bisexual awakening over viktor krum - during his fourth year.

more interestingly, though, is that the trio's view of sirius diverges in order of the phoenix.

in harry's case, there is a reversal of the reasonably uncomplicated parent-child dynamic of goblet of fire, as sirius' depression - as well as the regression he feels from being stuck in his childhood home - robs him of the capacity to provide harry with the paternal emotional support he needs. instead, harry ends up being the one taking the adult role in their relationship - viewing it as his responsibility to be the sensible one in order to keep sirius safe.

hermione notices this role-reversal, but her view is broadly that sirius would be able to restrain his emotional instability if he simply tried hard enough. she's the one of the three who thinks that sirius' grimmauld-place-induced regression is accompanied by a desire to relive his glory days with harry standing in for james - and while both she and harry find sirius' more reckless behaviour [such as his suggestion that he might come to hogsmeade to see them] frightening, hermione evidently regards it as reckless arrogance, while harry sees it as reckless desperation.

ron - on the other hand - approaches order-era sirius not from the adult position in an adult-child dynamic, but as a peer.

he's the member of the trio who best understands the impact feeling useless to the war effort, lonely, and trapped has on sirius, without adding the qualification that he should be an adult and deal with it [which has the negative result that he's easily convinced that harry's vision of sirius in the department of mysteries is real, because he thinks it's completely plausible that sirius would have left the house and been captured].

he has no time for the idea that sirius views harry as indistinguishable from james, or that sirius is deliberately or childishly reckless. he's the only one of the three to give sirius the credit of listening to dumbledore and working to keep himself and harry safe - even if he doesn't like what he has to endure in order to do this. he treats sirius as someone who deserves to not be condescended to and to be acknowledged as having authority in his own house - for example, when he tells hermione that she needs to respect sirius' justification for why kreacher can't be manumitted when he thinks she intends to give him clothes for christmas [that hermione is completely right that slaves should be freed is by-the-by here].

he also understands harry's grief over sirius' death - and what sirius meant to harry - far more instinctively than hermione. but he's also the only one of the trio who really gets how sirius was understood by the order more widely - for example, he's the only one of the three who correctly points out that tonks didn't actually know sirius well enough for the intensity of grief harry and hermione are ascribing to her to be plausible. while harry - completely understandably - sees sirius as so important in his own life that he can't help but imagine him as the central figure in the life of everyone he encounters [which is unrelatedly interesting in that it's how each of the three marauders saw james], ron has a more pragmatic, big-picture view of him as a man. a good man - absolutely - and a fun and clever and admirable one, but still a man like any other.

ron understanding sirius - but not idolising him - creates a pretty strong potential for a relationship between them in a world in which sirius survives into the trio's adulthoods. this is especially the case when this understanding is combined with the fact that ron is shown - throughout the series - to be very good at providing comfort.

sirius survives azkaban and his time on the run through sheer, desperate resilience - but, as his collapse when he's back at grimmauld place shows, this resilience can't keep his demons at bay when he's not just fighting, at the most basic level, to stay alive.

if he survives the war, then he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is going to find himself feeling terrified and unmoored and completely unsure about who he is and what he'll do in a world in which voldemort is dead - and i suspect that his self-destruction would be extraordinary.

ron - alone of the trio - has the capacity to understand how sirius would end up in a place where "all was well" is more frightening to him than the potential of dying any minute. and he also has the capacity to provide an anchoring force through cups of tea and chit-chat which makes sirius think it might be possible to survive the day... and then the week... and then the month - which can then transition into him having the capacity to understand the big questions of guilt and grief and love and loyalty which define sirius' adult life.

so yes. i back it entirely.

[etruatcaelum]

[ @flightofaqrow // for oz ]

They really do not like being fifteen. How it makes everything seem larger-than-life, a simple conversation as cauterizing as the fires of war; Ozma clasps Oscar’s hands behind his back to stifle their clawing need to fidget, and coughs quietly from the doorway. It feels too invasive, too presumptive to step further into the room without invitation.

“I… ah.”

Perhaps this is the wrong time. It’s only been a few hours since Qrow and the others arrived in Vacuo, aching and weary yet driven by desperate optimism that the evacuation had gone according to plan, radio silence from the rearguard or no; only a few hours since whatever small spark of hope Qrow had kept burning was smothered by the truth that his nieces had fallen in battle.

There’s not even anything left to bury.

Ozma has delivered news of this kind and mouthed the same inadequate sentiments of sympathy time and time again, has felt the fangs of grief envenoming their own heart across a thousand lifetimes; and while it is never easy, it has never felt so thorny as this. The last time they spoke—

Meeting you was the worst luck of my life.

None could argue otherwise. Ruining lives is, after all, just what Ozma does.

“Qrow,” they manage at last. “I… know I’m probably the last person you wish to hear from now; and I won’t… stay for—but I do want to express how sorry I am, for your loss.” Some might see in the old cynic’s laxity with the children a lack of care, but after so many years of watching Qrow seal himself away like a monster in a labyrinth, Ozma can think of nothing but how fiercely he must have loved those girls, to dare be near them at all. “I’m sorry. They—will never be forgotten.”

Bitter comfort though that is.

[skwpr]

Listen to songs that motivate you.

my playlist:

🎧 my story, my song- SF9

🎧 phoenix- League of Legends

🎧 phoenix- BURNOUT SYNDROMES

🎧 legends never die- League of Legends

🎧Fight Song- Rachel Platten

🎧I'll do Whatever it Takes- Imagine Dragons

🎧Royalty- Egzod, Maestro Chives, Neoni

🎧Rise- TheFatRat

🎧Bullet In A Gun - Imagine Dragons

🎧Everlasting Shine- TXT

🎧Die a little- YUNGBLUD

🎧Точкой горизонта- ШАРЫ

🎧The Scientist- Coldplay

🎧 С самых высоких скал- Сироткин

🎧 My shot - Hamilton: an American musical

[pedrito-friskito]

Happy 300!! ❤️❤️ Can I have Din with “🍑” please 💕

thank you sweetpea! 💕 omg yes you can I’ve had so many din thoughts lately and this was the perfect place for them

a/n: this turned into a whole ass fic too lmfao because I physically cannot write din djarin without LOTS of exposition so here we go - would be considered an au I guess since this would be after the events of book of boba fett/we don’t know what season three brings yet

ANYWAY ENJOY THANK YOU!!! ♥️

sweet like sugar - manda’lor!din djarin x serving girl!fem reader

warnings: a whole lot of descripton lmfao, p-in-v sex, din has a bit of a dirty mouth, wrap it before you tap it people

✨kay’s 300 follower celebration✨

Din’s still making sense of it all.

It’s everything he never asked for; the crown, the palace, the responsibility. The weight on his shoulders that just seemed to be replaced every time a different weight was removed. The only bright spot most days is his son by his side, Grogu often taking to following Din around the palace grounds, his little feet much quicker than they were before he trained with Luke Skywalker. It’s another thing to add Din’s list, another thing to process.

Boba and Fennec, Cara and Greef, they’d all given up their stations to come with him, to help Din take the throne of Mandalore, to get his feet under him and be the friends he’d come to know them to be. His advisors, his Council. Boba was splitting his time between Din’s Council and the Daimyo seat on Tatooine, and Fennec went where she was needed. Cara was glad to stay and Greef was just happy to be included.

And it’s helped, some. Helped him make sense of what he’s agreed to, show him where his attention is most needed. Sure, there are advisors galore on Mandalore, Bo-Katan and her crew desperate to be heard, but Din’s trust lies with his friends. With his son, with his family. The people who have proven to him time and time again that there is, in fact, good in the galaxy. It sometimes just looks a little different than imagined.

+

He first notices you the day of his coronation.

The palace’s great hall is filled with people, murmurs and whispers moving through the crowds as Din strides through. Darksaber on his hip, his comfortable cloak replaced with something much finer, the fabric thick and heavy against his back as he walks. The Phoenix is hidden away in his personal armoury on one of the higher levels, but most of his beskar remains, including his helmet.

Bo-Katan had given him hell when she realized he would keep his face covered for the ceremony. His head still swam with confusion at the memories; the refinery on Morak and his face being scanned into the Imperial systems, Grogu’s hand on his bare face on Gideon’s lightcruiser, the Armourer’s assertion that he was a Mandalorian no more.

But he had a saber, and according to every legend he’d pulled from the Archives, Bo-Katan’s adamant refusal to take the weapon from him, and every other person he’d come into contact with since winning the saber from Gideon, that made him heir to the throne. And, by some stroke of idiocy, he’d agreed to it.

So here he is, on a seat he never asked for, darksaber twirled in his palm, surveying the crowds before him. It’s not something he ever dreamed of, when he was young. He never longed for wealth or station or a crowd full of people listening to his every word. He’s a strange mix of comfortable and anxious, glad to have at least some of familiarity around him. Boba and the rest sat at a table nearby, and Grogu’s crib had been upgraded to his own smaller version of Din’s throne. The kid is thrilled to pieces, babbling away beside him, sticking his little fingers in anything that’s presented to him.

“Can I get you anything, your majesty?” a soft voice asks, stepping up the dais to refill the tiny cup of juice beside Grogu’s plate. He coos happily, grinning up at you, and behind the helmet, Din is blushing.

You’re beautiful.

There’s no other word for it, and it catches him off guard, back straightening in his seat, gloved hands gripping the arms so tightly Din’s shocked they don’t snap off. Dressed in the same soft garb as the other servants, your hair braided ornately around your head, a silver pendant at your throat. It’s beskar, he knows; every servant and worker in the palace has one, a symbol of their loyalty.

Vaguely, he hears you repeat the question, your eyes nailing him to the spot. His tongue feels too big in his mouth, and Din fumbles for an answer, shaking his head. “N-no, I’m fine, but thank you.”

Beside him, Grogu has managed to pour his entire cup down his front, and you make a little surprised noise, bending down and pulling a rag from your pocket. “Careful, ad’ika,” you say, and the kid gurgles in response as you wipe the juice from his face. “I’ll get you some more.”

He’s pretty sure his mind goes blank at the term of endearment slipping from your lips. “You speak Mando’a?” he asks, nearly sputtering out the question. Why is he suddenly so nervous?

“Yes, your majesty,” you reply smoothly, a grin painting your lips. “Many of the servants do. I was born here.”

His brows raise. “You’re from Mandalore?”

Another nod, the grin growing wider. “Yes, your majesty. My family was killed in the Great Purge. Until it was announced you would take the throne, I was making my way on Coruscant. Then I returned here.”

“You returned to be a servant?”

“Yes, your majesty. My family has served the Manda’lor for many generations. It’s an honour.” You bow your head, knees bending in a curtsy, and Din still can’t tear his eyes from your face. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I could get you?”

“Your name?”

A blush blooms through your cheeks, and just when he thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful. You give him your name softly, knees still bent, and Grogu chirps happily as you say it. Din repeats it back, leaning forward in his seat and offering you his hand. You take it hesitantly, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through his gloves.

Another servant calls your name, and your head turns towards the voice. “I’m coming!” You look back at Din, offering another smile. “If you need anything, just ask, your majesty.”

And then you’re gone.

+

In the months that follow, Din finds himself more restless than he’s ever felt in his life. Things were so different before, when it was just him and the kid on the Crest. When he could go anywhere in the galaxy without notifying anyone, without needing an entire security detail following him around. When his days were filled with bounties and adventure, not policies and votes and debates that made him want to fall asleep in his chair.

It’s important, his position, he knows that, still feels the weight every day, but damn if it isn’t boring sometimes.

His nights are restless, sleep evading him more often than not. He wanders the halls of the palace, occasionally with Grogu’s floating crib at his side, but usually on his own. It’s much more quiet at night, any visitors either gone from the palace or retired for the evening. Sometimes he runs into a servant or two, but the hallways are generally empty.

Tonight, however, he finds himself inching towards the kitchens, his growling stomach taking over his wandering feet. He’ll find something to snack on, something he can sneak back to his all-too lavish rooms on the highest level.

He’s not expecting to find someone in the kitchens at this hour, least of all you.

Your head doesn’t lift as he steps into the room, the door whooshing shut behind him. Your face is smeared with flour and spices, your hands covered in more flour and something purple. “I’m almost finished, Myla, I swear,” you say, focused on the task at hand. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“I’m not Myla,” Din manages to say, his voice strained and awkward. It’s not the first time he’s seen you since the coronation; you’ve been everywhere, in every corner of the palace, at every meal, inching into the corner of his vision everywhere he turns. You flinch at the sound of his voice instead of your friend’s, neck snapping up so quickly he’s concerned you’re going to hurt yourself.

“Oh, gods,” you mutter, immediately starting to reach for the bowls and containers spread across the counter. “Your majesty, I’m so sorry. I was just…” Din tilts his head to the side and you inhale sharply. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“You were here first,” Din says slowly, grinning beneath his helmet. “Doesn’t that mean I’m disturbing you?”

“Oh,” you stutter, linking your hands together in front of you, staring down at them. “You could never, your majesty.”

Din steps further into the room, coming to stand before the stools lining the opposite side of the counter you’re stood at. You look up at him through your lashes and his stomach lurches. Your face has been etched in his brain since the first time he set eyes on you, but still, having you there before him is another thing entirely, making his breath stutter beneath his helmet.

“Is there something you need?” you ask, and he knows you’re flustered more so because there’s a pause before you add, “your majesty.”

It gives him an odd sense of satisfaction, knowing he has a similar effect on you that you do on him. It levels the playing field some, and he pulls out one of the stools, sliding atop it. “I was just looking for something to eat.”

“Of course,” you say brightly, wiping the purple from your hands. He’s still curious to know what it is. “Anything in particular? They delivered some really good fruit this morning; I think there’s still some left. And I could make you some tea?”

“That sounds perfect,” Din replies, and you give him the most dazzling smile, tucking your rag into your back pocket and setting to work. A few minutes later, there’s a plate of neatly sliced fruit slid to him, along with a steaming cup of tea.

He realizes then that he’s still wearing his helmet, and watches the realization pass across your face. “I’ll give you some privacy, your majesty.”

“No,” Din calls far too quickly, feeling his cheeks heat under the helmet, and your freeze, eyes glued to him. “You can stay, it’s all right. I’d…like the company.”

“All right,” you say, your voice quieter than he’s ever heard it.

The kitchen goes deathly silent as Din hooks his fingers into the rim of his helmet and lifts it off his head.

If it’s possible, you’re even more beautiful without the slight distortion of his visor. Your eyes are brighter than he thought them to be, your skin smoother. Gods, it’s been a long time since he’s felt like this, this attracted to a woman. And he knows the cliché of it all: the king and the serving girl. It’s a story that’s been told a million times over, but he doesn’t care.

There’s a wry smile on your face as he sets the helmet down on the table. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just…there are rumours, about what you look like under there. And you…you’re very handsome, your majesty.” Your eyes go wide and you clap a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, that was much too forward.”

Din actually laughs, the sound almost startling him. He’s not used to hearing it so loud and clear, not processed through his helmet. His cheeks are heating at the compliment, and he reaches for the tea. “You need to stop apologizing.”

Your brows raise. “I’m so—” You cut yourself off, making a little huffing noise that makes Din grin. “Yes, your majesty.”

“What are you doing down here so late?” he asks.

You pause. “I’m not sure I should tell you,” you say quietly, reaching for the rag again. “I’d hate to get myself into trouble.”

“Your secret is safe with me, mesh’la,” he tells you, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I give you my word, as Manda’lor.”

+

Did he just call you beautiful?

“What did you…” you start, but then you shake your head. Your heart is hammering around in your chest so hard you’re worried it might jump out of your throat. He’s here, in the kitchens, in the one place you’ve been able to hide from him since your first encounter at his coronation.

You still played over that first conversation in your head, but this? Sitting across from you, drinking the tea you made, helmet discarded and those gorgeous eyes staring back at you. He is handsome, there’s no denying that, but the way he’s watching you, the way his eyes dart from your mouth and back up again every time you speak, it’s making something in you heat.

But he’s the Manda’lor. And you’re…you. Nobody.

You’ve done a good job, thus far, you think. Keeping yourself scarce when you can, but there’s only so much avoiding you can do when it’s your job to serve him. And gods, he’s so kind. It’s distracting, the quiet way he has about him, so shy and yet so commanding at the same time.

Watching him interact with his son is another thing entirely.

He reaches across the counter, fingers closing around your wrist, and it’s then that you realize that you’ve never seen him without gloves on. His fingers are long, knuckles calloused and criss-crossed with scars, more on the backs of his hands beneath the light dusting of dark hair.

He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for your admission, and you rub a hand across the back of your neck, staring down at where his hand is still holding your wrist. He can probably feel how wildly your pulse is racing, but he says nothing, just watching you.

“I stay down here most nights, after everyone’s gone to their quarters,” you say, the words coming out in a rush. “It’s quiet, once they’re all gone, and I like it. It’s nice, helps me clear my head.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Why would you think you’d get in trouble for that?”

“I…” You trail off, at a loss. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but you make me very nervous.”

Slowly, he slides off the stool he’d been occupying, and rounds the counter, coming to stand right in front of you. He keeps his hold on your wrist as he moves, fingers tightening slightly as he stops before you. “The feeling is mutual.”

You blink. What? “It is?”

He nods, the moment slow, eyes darting all across your face. “It is. Since that first night I saw you, I haven’t…” He shakes his head. “I cannot get you out of my mind. Do you know what that’s like?”

Yes. Oh, sweet Gods, yes. “Y-yes, your majesty.”

He’s so close now, looming over you. He’s tall, too, his chin at the perfect height to rest atop your head. Slowly, he releases your wrist, drags his hand up your arm, until it reaches your shoulder, and then his fingers are under your jaw, keeping your face tilted towards his.

“Din. You call me Din, mesh’la, you understand? My name is Din Djarin.”

Your words are gone, caught in your throat, so you just nod.

Din. Din Djarin.

“Can I…” he starts, then pauses, clears his throat, and lifts his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He murmurs your name. “Can I kiss you? I don’t…I don’t know how to a—”

Before he can get another word out, you lean up on your toes and kiss him.

It shouldn’t surprise you how soft his lips are, but it pulls a little noise out of you when his hand dives into your hair, the other reaching down to rest at the small of your back, pushing you until you chest touches his.

He tastes sweet, like the vormur flower tea you’d made him and the sharp tang of fruit. There’s something else too, something that just belongs to him, and you wish you could bottle the taste. He’s so tall, all broad shoulders and hard muscle beneath the soft clothes he’s wearing.

When his arm tightens around your waist, you can’t stop the little whimper that slips between your lips. You reach up, taking his face in your hands, feeling the scruff lining his jaw tickle your palm. Before you know it, the arm around your waist sinks beneath your ass, and he lifts you up. Your legs seem to wrap around his hips of their own accord, and Din sets you on the counter, mouth still hungrily attached to yours, kissing you like he’s been walking through the Tatooine desert forever and you’re the first drop of water he’s found.

It’s hungry and it’s heated and there’s something so forbidden about it that you have goosebumps, nervous energy rioting around in your gut. He keeps one hand in your hair, and the other moves to rest on your thigh, fingers pressing into your flesh. It sets everything in you alight, lust and arousal searing through your veins.

The soft fabric of his pants is doing little to mask the evidence of how aroused he is. It’s a bold move, you know, letting once hand skim down his chest, dropping to cup your palm against him. You’re rewarded by the way his jaw goes slack, mouth still moving against yours, a debauched moan sliding from his lips to yours.

“I need to be inside you, mesh’la,” he whispers. “Please.”

You nod frantically, and there’s a quick shuffle of clothes, your pants yanked down past your ankles and dropped to the floor, Din’s pushed down his hips. It all happens in an instant, his hand sliding up your thigh and hitching it over his hip, pulling you to the edge of the counter. His lips meet yours just as he presses into you, and you gasp into his mouth, one hand fisting in the front of his shirt, the other reaching around to sink into his hair. It’s ridiculously soft, the strands curling about your fingers.

And then he starts to move.

Your head is a mess, still confused as anything by what exactly is transpiring. Not half an hour you were here by yourself, and now you’re…

“Din,” you groan. He sets a ruthless pace, hips snapping into yours, jaw dropped as he stares down at where you’re connected. You tilt your head back, kissing his cheek, pressing yourself into him as much as possible, meeting his every thrust.

It’s filthy, the way the sounds of his flesh against yours fill the kitchens, the slick sound of just how wet he’s got you echoing through your mind. He barely touched you, but you were ready before your pants even hit the floor. His kiss has awakened something in you, and you can’t get enough.

He’s big, and it’s a stretch, but the slight burn just makes it better, the pain ebbing just as quickly as it arrived. Your ankles lock around his back, drawing him closer, tipping your head back as he fits his face against your throat.

“You have the sweetest mouth, mesh’la,” he murmurs against your pulse, nipping at your thin skin before laving his tongue over the spot. “I wonder if you’re just as sweet somewhere else.”

His hand drops from your hair only to snake up underneath your shirt, palm cupping your breast, swiping his thumb across your nipple. You keen up into the touch, back bowing to push your chest towards him, but then it’s gone, hand dropping between your spread legs. He kisses your throat almost roughly, beard scratching against you, but you barely notice as he slides two fingers through the wetness spilling out around his cock inside you, then draws them up, moving in a perfect circle over your clit. It knocks you breathless, yanking at his shirt desperately.

Then he pulls his fingers away, pushing them between his lips and moaning at the taste.

“I was right,” he murmurs, dropping his hand again, drawing another circle around you. “Just as sweet.”

Your brain is swimming with pleasure, unable to push a coherent thought past your lips, nothing but his name drawled out, bouncing off the walls. “Din.”

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” he grunts out, thrusting deeper than before, tightening an arm around your waist again, keeping you close. You drape your arms around his neck, pushing your face into his collar. “Touching you like this, being so deep inside you. Hearing the sounds you’d make for me, tasting your mouth. Gods, mesh’la, you’re more than I ever could have dreamed.”

He rubs a hard circle against you and you cry out, digging your hands into his shoulders, holding on for dear life. “Please, Din.”

His hips continue to piston against yours, and his fingers continue to circle your clit. Your nerves sing in response, sparks of pleasure shooting up and down every limb, your jaw going slack against his chest as it starts to pulse through you, hitting you like a blaster bolt to the stomach. Your whole body seizes, nails digging in hard, and Din gasps, pressing his mouth against the crown of your head, hips still moving. “So tight,” he chokes out, “are you…? Can I…?”

“Implant,” you whisper out, and there’s only a breath before he’s finding his own bliss, gripping you so tightly you can barely breathe. You lift your head as he gasps, grabbing his chin and tilting his face so you can kiss his pretty mouth, swallowing down his sounds until he stills against you.

You legs are numb, fingers and toes tingling as you both catch your breath.

And then you both start laughing.

It’s blissful laughter, interspersed between kisses and gentle touches. He stays there, fitted between your legs, pushing the hair from your face and kissing every inch of your face until you’re giggling helplessly, gripping his waist like a lifeline.

A knock at the door makes you both freeze.

Myla calls your name. “Are you coming or what?”

You look at Din, open-mouthed, and he just starts to laugh. “Be there in a second!”

It’s a slightly awkward shuffle apart, both of you wincing slightly as he pulls out of you. You both redress yourselves, righting clothing that had been moved askew, running a hand through your hair. Din pulls up the collar of your shirt, pressing it against your throat. “I left a mark,” he admits, his voice a little sheepish, and you lean in to steal a kiss, your lips soft against his.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, fingers under his scratchy chin. “I like it.”

He blinks down at you, tilting his head to the side, letting his hand span your ribs. “Can I see you again?”

You just nod before you lean up on your toes to kiss him softly once more, and then you turn on your heel and disappear out the door, careful to make sure it closes behind you, keeping him hidden.

+

You see him again the next night.

And the night after that, and the night after that. A few days you go without, only to deter the other servants who have been asking questions, wondering where you’ve been disappearing to. You can only chalk so much of it up to late nights spent in the kitchens, especially when your bed lies empty and you appear the next morning in the same clothes as yesterday.

Before long, it’s been months of secret trysts and stolen kisses.

Sometimes, he comes to you in the kitchens, like he had that first night. Other times, he requests you specifically to bring him dinner in his chambers. He’ll happen to walk down a hallway and find you walking the opposite way, and pull you into a darkened corner, kissing the breath from your lungs before letting you go.

Eventually, he asks to have you moved to the servants quarters on his floor. Your things are moved upstairs, and are very quickly deposited in his rooms. Your every night is spent by his side, and you love it.

You love him.

As time goes on, you learn everything about each other. Your histories, your pasts, the things you love and the things you hate. Every planet you’ve ever visited and the ones you can’t wait to see. Din is planning the trip to Naboo seconds after the words are past your lips.

You voice your hesitation to be with him, what people might say about the king courting a servant girl, but he doesn’t seem to care. “It doesn’t matter what you are, mesh’la,” he tells you. “It matters who you are. And who you are, is the woman I love.”

And then, one night…

You’re both sprawled in his bed, naked as the day you were born, the silk sheets covering you from the waist down. Din’s on his back, head nestled in his pillow, and you’re on your stomach, lying on his chest, your fingers tracing over the scars that litter his body, evidence of the life he once lived. He’s relaxed, but when you glance up, you can see the hard expression on his face. It’s almost like you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“What are you thinking about, cyar’ika?” you ask, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I’m thinking,” he starts, and you lean up higher so you can see his face, stare into those gorgeous eyes, “I might like to make you my queen.”

—————

din djarin tags: @iamskyereads @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @plutoneu @dins-cyare @pedropascalsx @allfoolsinluv @williamjzanders @maddiewinchester @winchestershiresauce @lunarpenumbra @minxsblog @bluestuesday @eatommo @randomwords3000 @i-simp-much

(if your url is struck through I cannot tag you! check your settings!)

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

[nilsavatar]

PHOENIX | 1. TXUMRE' MAKTO

Status: CHAPTER 1 (1/?)

Prologue, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!UnknownOriginsNa’vi!Reader

Genre/Warnings: ANGST, sorrow, mentions of nearly death, romance, adventure, soulmate love, destined lovers, possible suggestive content NSFW/MDNI later on, no use of Y/N, clans never seen in films yet. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: During the battle with the SeaDragon, gunfire struck Neteyam’s heart. A mortal wound that heals itself under the astonished eyes of his brother, as if the Great Mother still did not want him with her. She has other plans for Toruk Makto's eldest son.  Nevertheless, his body is weak, and he falls into a slumber from which he can no longer wake up. His vital signs are stable, yet Neteyam is slowly slipping away. He is waiting. Waiting for the girl who has been appearing in his dreams since he went into a coma.

Chapter Summary: Despite the clan's lack of disdain, Mi'niri feels like an outcast due to her unique appearance and enigmatic origins. She cannot avoid noticing how different she is from others, both physically and in terms of her character, every time she looks at herself. The Tawkami's way seems too restrictive.

An unexpected event will be the incipit of a total but necessary upheaval. Deep down, she always knew that she wasn’t meant to fit in. Her fate lies in the hands of the Great Mother's plans.

However, she won't untangle the thread of a skein alone.

Word Count: 3.8k🙃

Hope you'll like it and if you want to be tagged in the next posts, just write it in the comments. I’ll gladly add y'all💕

Masterlist - Request a fic

1. TXUMRE' MAKTO

“No Kekunan matches her physical traits. She doesn’t belong to us.”

The floating mountains were her haven, guardians of all her undisclosed secrets and recollections. She breathed them to the wind, as countless others had, mindful of its secrecy, while it brushed her face like a tender touch, carrying away a few tears. She cast her eyes towards her wrist, adorned with a frayed bracelet. For sure, it had seen better days, but it now only served as a pale reminder of the rejection she had faced while still in swaddling clothes.

“No Kekunan matches her physical traits. She doesn’t belong to us.”

She doesn’t belong to us. We have no recognition of her. She is not one of us.  She was nobody’s. No one would ever see her.

She would listen to the distant ikrans for days, filling her chest with each breath, as she meditated to the gentle sway of the suspended boulders.  The creaking of the sturdy roots that held the rock in place was a constant reminder to Mi'niri of the power of nature. She couldn't help but wonder what might happen if one of them snapped. 

Would the rock remain stationary in its everlasting sway? Or, could an updraft have sent it soaring high up into the sky?  Who knows where the winds would have taken it? 

Perhaps she would have finally witnessed the ocean’s fury and felt the saltiness tingling her skin. Or she would have seen the sun rise over the vastness of the desert, coloring the dunes with soft pinks and oranges.  They might have taken her to the farthest end of the world, where there’s solely the white of ice and the chill of frost. 

More likely, she would have died of asphyxiation or slipped off the stone to crash to the ground. Yet, why not let her mind to venture to far-off mystical lands that she had only heard of in bedtime stories or studied in the clan's manuscripts?

From time to time, she envied the Sky People. Despite their deplorable motives, their destructive nature, they devolved technology to explore beyond their dying planet and reach Pandora. Deeds that resembled legends, akin to those of the first Toruk Makto and the tales recounted from the time of the First Songs. Being the daughter of scholars, she had to acknowledge their intelligence and persistence. 

To say that she never imagined or wished to be the protagonist of such a feat would be insincere. More to distance herself from a place where she felt like she didn't fit in rather than a thrill of adventure. Her need for acceptance and a sense of belonging overshadowed her curiosity and desire to travel.

If she had actually gone missing, who knows how long it would have taken them to figure it out? Vanished into thin air just as she had appeared seventeen years prior. Maybe nobody else would have noticed her absence, or missed her (excluding her parents, clearly).

Suddenly, the breeze cooled, and the banshees' cries grew closer. The nocturnal fauna stirred, ready for the new eclipse. Alpha Centauri A faded away as Pandora twirled around the blue giant, and the moons of Polyphemus appeared in the evening sky. 

With a strange feeling in her chest and tiny fireflies lighting the way, it was time for her to go home.

The village was quiet as the sun sank below the horizon.

"Ma’ite (my daughter), you're coming back later every night," her mother playfully scolded, back turned. Mi’niri snorted a smile, rolling her eyes. She barely appeared on the threshold. How did she even detect her presence? She thought she had improved at camouflaging herself. A critical skill to make it through the forest.  The woman responded, in tune with her stream of consciousness, stating: "A mother's intuition is never wrong about her children. She senses them.” “Uh-huh,” she hummed, unconvinced. "She just knows, my little skeptic," she teased, stealing a glance at her. Her placid corundum eyes twinkled with a blatant hint of amusement, so unlike her own. Whenever she saw them, she would repeat this to herself, as if to reinforce that she wasn't a proper Tawkami.

She was always mindful that she wasn’t a part of the tribe, even if they never bring themselves to exclude her or acknowledge her as different. In the clan's eyes, she was Acala and Sílron’zem’s daughter, nothing less than that. They embraced her into the community and its activities, with love and patience. 

Every day was the same for the Tawkami, apart from their remarkable discoveries, which added variety to their dull routine.

But despite the countless attempts of his peers to make friends, it was Mi’niri herself who could not get beyond her diversity, be it physical or character. She was short of the peace of mind that seemed to unite all the members of the clan. It was a gift she lacked; just as she lacked the disposition to study and research typical of her people. She felt the urge to explore and to answer her own questions, not for knowledge or to help those around her. She was so absorbed in what made her stand out from others that she didn't discern its irrelevance in their eyes.

She had no foe but herself.

Her mother smirked. "Are you sneaking away to meet a boy?" Mi'niri grumbled in reply.

Here we go again, she told herself.

At her disgusted expression, the woman burst out laughing. A clear laugh that tinkled like bells. “You’re a chip off the old block,” she said, hiding her mouth. “Your dad was always in his own world, too. Totally unaware of the gazes that slid over him as if invisible.”

She wanted to argue that no one was looking at her that way, but she held her tongue. She opted not to trouble the woman who had devotedly raised her. To the utmost extent, she wished to safeguard her from the effects of having Mi'niri as her adopted daughter. So she repeated, rolling her eyes, a hint of sourness punctuating the sentence: ‘Until he got himself screwed by crossing you’. She had heard that story a million times. About how her father was oblivious to the hearts he broke due to his focus on his job.

All Tawkami held Sílron’zem in high esteem because of his extraordinary intellect, which made him a renowned chemist. Neighboring clans often requested his intervention as well. He was a brilliant mind but was a complete mess when it came to emotions. His introversion or shyness wasn’t the problem, he just didn't grasp it. He didn’t seem to catch the women's body language as they approached him; their searching eyes, their hands lingering on his arm, the flirtatious tone in their voices.

As soon as he spotted Acala, everything changed completely.

She was possibly the sole individual who lacked interest in the young man. This couldn't be further from the truth.

Acala, a keen observer, had noted his unresponsiveness to a straightforward approach and armed herself with holy patience and wait. She waited for him to take notice of her without forcing her presence. Gradually, he grew accustomed to her and accepted her being there by his side.

At first, the conversations were sparse and mostly professional because of his prominent role, their age gap (not huge but substantial), and his own reserve and uneasiness.

Acala's unyielding persistence finally paid off on an afternoon in the early dry season.

Sílron’zem was examining a flower's poison to find out if they could use it medicinally and on arrows in battle. It was an extremely delicate job, but a sound that was familiar, yet, at the moment, incredibly new, suddenly distracted him. A warm, almost childlike trill. Mi'niri’s mother's most memorable feature: her stirring, crystal-clear laughter. The man shifted his clinical gaze from the tube, which he held up in the sunlight, to her. Covering her mouth with her fingers, she chuckled shrewdly, giving her a mischievous air that he grew to love over time. What was rarely, however, was for another male Na’vi to make her laugh. One he had never seen before, moreover. Whose name, birth, and role within the clan were a mystery to him.

His stern eyes narrowed as he eyed their interaction. He quickly recognized that the conversation wasn't trivial - at least, not as far as the boy was concerned. Watching Acala's response made him feel a surge of primal energy, and he fought to keep his sharp canines from breaking the skin of his lower lip. The sourness of blood wetted his tongue. Rage surged through him as he saw the two of them out of the corner of his eye.

Acala's laughter, which had once been music to his ears, now felt like a constant assault on his senses, each new outburst more annoying than the last.

Why was she humoring him? What was so cool about that random dude? He wasn't built like a warrior and didn't seem too bright from what he picked up.

Maybe he was a funny guy. Acala repeatedly reprimanded him for being overly serious, extremely committed to his work, and not likely to loosen up. Unbeknownst to her, Sílron'zem hid a wild side. Simply, he wasn’t adept at wooing women.

To be frank, he wasn’t particularly adept at socializing.

A fresh outbreak of mirthful sounds. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

They both peered at him, with a perplexed expression on her face and a mocking one on his. The girl's head inclined a bit to prop up his eyes, which were so wintry that they stung. Only then it dawned on him his less-than-friendly approach.

Again, the need to smash the boy’s face came rushing back, even stronger and angrier than before. That primal call to violence, to defiance, to claim the female as one’s own seized him.

Claim the female as one’s own?

His eyes locked with Acala's, and he was struck with a sense of awe and fear. A shiver ran down his spine, and he had to swallow hard to moisten his dry mouth.

He realized with a shock that he had missed all the signs. As a man of science, he couldn't believe how easily the girl had shaken something within him without even trying. In that instant, he was hit with the realization that left him wondering why it hadn't clicked sooner. Did his poverty of self-perception make him rely on jealousy as a tool to decipher his own feelings?

Jealousy. 

What an ugly word. What an ugly feeling. Even more horrible now that he was experiencing it.

He mumbled something unintelligible and grabbed Acala by the forearm, dragging her cautiously behind him. Nevertheless, she distinctly heard the insult Sílron’zem directed at the young man. Also, her sharp eyes didn’t fail to notice the frown he gave him as they walked away.

“Pause over. We must examine these new samples before they deteriorate.” ”What's gotten into you?” she asked pointedly. He tensed up, “When?” “Before. With Neetxo.” “Who?” he looked puzzled and glowered. “Don’t play dumb. You know very well who I’m talking about. We were having a chat a moment ago.”

Ah, him. He had completely erased the man from his mind already.

“You were rude,” the girl pressed. “To Amanti’s eldest son, of all people,” she huffed. “Do you even get the risk you took? The Tipani are extremely proud.” She almost added "and violent," but the man's face, which displayed a mix of disgust and amusement, silenced her.

That puny kid was going to be in charge of the Torukä Na’rìng region next? With a sneer, he bent down to pick up the wooden box with the test tubes, commenting venomously that he didn't recognize him without the armor. Acala yanked him by the arm, nearly sloshing the poison onto the ground. Sílron’zem's disappointment was so great that he couldn't help but hiss irritably. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken rebuke.

“He is Palulukan Makto.” "His status is what charmed you," he said with a bitter, wry smile, “I see”. “What?” He offered no explanation, just a casual shrug. "Wishing you the best of luck with your courtship. May it bring you joy and success. Keep in mind that the structure of the Tipani is distinct from anything we’re used to. He may be chosen to succeed Sänume as Clan Leader, but joining him won't make you Tsahìk.”

The grip on Sílron'zem's arm slipped away, leaving behind a strange, lingering burning sensation that he couldn’t shake. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides as she avoided his gaze, her ears flat and her shoulders stiff. Her tail moved in short, quick jerks, betraying her growing frustration.

"Is that the conclusion you've come to?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible. His heart shattered when she returned to look. Tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry and her ciliary rims puffy. “You think I was flirting to snag a good catch? Do you think I’m a climber? That I'm all about status and recognition? I'm okay with whoever, as long as I get a suitable position.”

“I-I-.“

“You skxawng!” She shouted, and all eyes turned toward her, taken aback by her unexpected behavior. Acala didn't care if anyone was watching or listening at that point. She didn't feel the stares of disbelief on them. She focused on Sílron’zem's expression, which was just as bewildered and uneasy with the attention. Perfectly orange irises bounced between the girl and the Na’vi in his peripheral vision, his brain scrambling desperately to seek a way out of that uncomfortable situation. 

“All I did was hope you'd finally see me. I didn’t know you had such a low opinion of me. I told myself you'd look at me, eventually. Really look at me. I had this idea that you could read my feelings by looking into my eyes, but I was totally off. I was so caught up in my feelings that I actually thought you were keeping me around for a reason. I bet I've been a nuisance all this time.”

The silence was absolute, as if the entire world was holding its breath. Her disenchanted, wounded look left him soul-sick, punching him in the gut like a knife.

“I thought you were different.” Her lower lip quivered. “Now I see you for what you are. Better late than never.” Leaving him behind, the girl walked resolutely in the forest’s direction, likely headed towards her banshee. The sound of twigs snapping underfoot echoed in his ears.

It was now or never. If he didn't catch up with her, regret would haunt him for years to come. 

To hell with logic.  To hell with becoming the clan’s gossip. Sometimes you just gotta go with your gut. He chased after her, grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and kissed her hard, leaving her breathless. Acala's initial reaction was one of shock and dismay, but she quickly surrendered to the overwhelming emotions. Reciprocating the kiss with equal passion, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She won. Sílron’zem was all hers.

“I'm a total moron.” She let out a little giggle. “You sure are.”

"By the way, the ikran smell was a good clue," the mom remarked. She had a knowing smirk on her face. "Are they nesting already?” “A few pairs have. Most are still in the courtship phase.” “May the Great Mother bless us with abundant broods,” she prayed confidently. An ikran's birth was a highly anticipated event for the forest peoples, as they believed it to bring luck and prosperity. The Na’vi saw every new ikran as a representation of a new child being born into the world, which they welcomed with open arms as brothers in spirit. "Our brothers accept you willingly, ma’ite. The fauna is fond of you, but it’s a delicate period. Be wary.” “Don’t worry, sa’nu (mom), I’ll be careful.”

As Acala was about to reprove her daughter, intense and prolonged mooing overpowered her voice, causing disorienting gloom.

In the fading light of the day, the same deafening roar from two hundred and four lunar cycles ago echoed dangerously close to the farthest reaches of the village. A wailing sound jerked Mi’niri’s head northwards in the sound's direction. Thrill coursed through her veins, a feeling of excitement rather than fear, as if a distant call had finally reached her ears. 

A call of home.

Despite her parents' protests, Mi'niri hurried to the gathering of the chosen guard. Bows and spears were in position, ready to strike down the creature threatening Greenhome at the mere mention of the Olo’eyktan. She stood between them and the animal. Her face was a picture of fearlessness. “Mawey!” “Niri, come back here!” Her father's voice croaked out, followed by distress from the other inhabitants. The girl, however, was too busy studying the cause of the chaos.

The intensity of its gaze was matched only by the jarring of its scrutiny, revealing the creature's innate ferocity. Its fierce eyes bore into hers, and she couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity.

Vulnerability.

That drew Mi’niri to the rest of the animal’s body. Its chest rose and fell unnaturally as it struggled to breathe. It inhaled deeply, turning into labored gasps between its bloody jaws; stained of its own. Coughs came in painful spasms as blood gushed from within.

With the Olo'eyktan nod of approval, the young girl bravely approached the wounded predator, deaf to her parents' desperate pleas. In a final show of defense, the animal's instinct took over, and it let out a warning growl that was both defiant and desperate. She knelt down, hands raised, trying to seem harmless, smaller, and murmuring soothing words at the captivating yet frightening creature.

A txumre’. The ultimate forest nightmare that you’d be lucky to escape from and live to tell the tale. The creature was said to be second in power only to the thanator.

She knew right away that the txumre' in front of her was anything but ordinary. Its skin, unlike its fellows, was an ivory color that gradually faded to a shrieking hue where it should have been a bluish-grey. The black of his claws created a stark contrast with the orange and purple streaks that decorated his flank and continued down to the tip of his tail. Even the hard plates that shielded the fangs were penetrated by the brilliant nuances; now opened to reveal a terrifying bright orange menace and two large venomous spears extending from either side of the snout.

Albinism didn’t allow him to blend into the dense thicket of Pandora’s rainforest, easy prey for his own kind in territorial fights.

The feline-like creature’s eyes blinked slowly, but his unwavering gaze remained fixed on Mi’niri. A single pair of small red eyes resembled those of a snake. Two sways of its head later, it closed the plates and nodded its head backward. The girl mirrored the movement, unsure of what it meant, but the slinth appeared to relax. Its weight became too much for its trembling paws, and he collapsed to the ground on his side.  She had to hold back a sigh of pain as she observed the wide gash piercing its pelvis. Gills opened his flesh, causing severe bleeding and staining his hind legs purple. Without the help of a skilled healer, it’d surely die. Knowing the end was near, it resisted the instinct to hide and went to the Tawkami Clan to plead for their aid, albeit with dignity and grace. She could read in its eyes a desire to stay on this side of Eywa’s veil.

Its time had yet to come. 

"It's injured," she announced, ending the oppressive silence. “Kill it,” coldly ordered a warrior behind her. “Put it out of its misery.” “We can still save it,” she protested. A lump clogged her throat. “To do what with it, then? Keep it as a pet?” he taunted in a huff, a gradually growing anger darkening his voice. “It’s a predator! It kills Na’vi!” “It’s also a son of Eywa like us.” “Out of respect, you gotta put it down,” he drew his knife from the sash he wore across his chest, “But if you are too weak to do it yourself, I’ll do it.”

The slinth leaped forward, despite its nimble paws, demonstrating its courage and determination to fight and live. To protect. By no means had he come to their village by chance. There were no coincidences on Pandora. Behind every irregularity lay a greater truth. A picture.

The Tsahìk's voice was faint but determined, as she stated the message was from Nawna Sa'nok, the Great Mother. “If txumre’ has come to us in this form, it is because it is Eywa's will. As it was Her will that brought us to the foreign girl several cycles ago.”

A light of appreciation flashed in the exhausted gaze of the animal, now proudly seated beside Mi’niri. It rested its head on her lap and purred softly. She gently petted the muscles of his neck and the nerves beneath, up to the appendix that enveloped the tentacular nerves. Another grunt, this time more energetic and vague in assent, vibrated. Mi’niri brought her own closer and joined the two ends. As she faced the predator, she felt her pupils widen and her breathing slow down to match its rhythmic movements. Memories and suffering flooded her mind as if they were her own, and she knew they belonged to Dewram. He found solace in her tears, knowing she was there for him to keep him safe. 

They were one now. Brothers.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, her Iknimaya occurred against any prior expectations or desires. For a brief moment, the weight of the new reality completely overcame her. She wasn't ready to undergo changes that would make her completely different from her Tawkami peers forever. The warmth of Dewram's breath and his gentle nuzzling against her belly filled her with a soothing sense of serenity, washing away the restlessness that had troubled her.

Her dream of soaring through the skies on the back of an ikran was shattered. The girl knew her People well enough to expect silent acquiescence towards her actions, with a few members harboring a respectful suspicion. A sense of calm washed over her as she figured out Eywa had intended for her to take a different route since the beginning. She had taught her to be unafraid, to face fear, loneliness, and rejection head-on.

In her heart, Mi'niri sensed an imminent danger was lurking. The thought of what awaited her filled her with dread, knowing that it would wrench her away from everything she held dear. But the Great Mother had flanked her with the terror of the forest.

She was no longer alone.

Notes: All the info about the clans I mention and the characters' names of said clans are from games side stories and other official sources. Since they haven't appeared in the movies yet, I take them as canon until James Cameron will state otherwise.

Amanti: Clan Leader of the Owame village, located in Leo Forest.

Torukä Na’rìng: region of the Tipani Clan, known among humans as Leonopteryx Forest, or more simply Leo Forest. Because of the importance of this area to zoologists, Owame Village was one of the first contacts between RDA and Na’vi. Current relations are one of unpleasant tolerance, but at one time there was open conflict between the two sides.

The Tipani Clan is divided into several individual villages in the jungle, each of which has a leader who governs it. They are known for the use of armor, which is worn regularly and differs according to the purpose of use: hunting, training and fighting, singing and dancing.

Neetxo: is an OC of mine.

@cinetrix