#truly the most suffering from success moment

[sleepyminty]

Something incredible just happened on twt right now

#bigolas dickolas wolfwood #trigun #this is how you lose the time war #what a time to be alive #truly the most suffering from success moment #nicholas d wolfwood #THE ARTICLES EVEN WRITE ABT THEM #MR YOSHIHIRO WATANABE BOUGHT THE BOOK #Imagine having bigolas dickolas wolfwood on the news #this will go down as a you just had to be there moment of the trigun fandom #THEY GOT INTO THE WIKI PAGE #CAN WE GET MUCH HIGHER

[dudeitiskarev]

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[wheneclipsefalls]

Withered

Beautiful Adult Neteyam photo by the wonderful @cinetrix

Pairing: Alpha Neteyam x Beta Fem Omatikaya Reader

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have opposite lives. He thrives in the daylight of possibilities while you are forced to the shadows. You are sure that the right course of action would be letting the future Olo'eyktan go. Neteyam is less convinced.

Based on a request from my 🥔 anon

Warnings: aged up characters, aged up neteyam, angst, health problems, explicit smut, dirty talk, crying, miscommunication, p in v, virgin reader, first time, omegaverse, alpha/beta relationship dynamic, heat, sickness, 18+ only MDNI

Tanhi: star/little star I Yawne: beloved I Sevin: pretty I Mawey: calm

A/N: I can't tell you all enough how grateful I am for the hype and many comments that have been around this story just from that small sneak peek I posted. This ended up being a lot longer than I ever anticipated but I had a blast writing it. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing from y'all!

For many the sun is a symbol of warmth, peace, and solace. The bright rays enwrap Na’vi of all ages in the glow of Eywa’s love. The rise of morning light represents a new day, another chance for adventure and possibilities. When the illuminating glow of yellow sunshine transforms into streaks of vibrant purples and pinks, it indicates a time for families to come together and tuck in for the night. 

However, for you, your day truly begins at the first glow of bioluminescence. Eclipse is your time to explore the world.

You were born with an almost unheard of disease. It only took a few days of your infant body breaking out into abnormal rashes for Tsahik to realize something was wrong. Exposure of more than a few minutes to sunshine causes detrimental effects to your body. For this reason, you are forced to avoid the vibrant glow of the sun. 

From that moment on you have lived your life almost nocturnally. On lucky days the clouds protect you from the harmful UV rays. Rain has come to be your favorite weather as it allows you an escape from your hut. 

Despite these difficulties you have always strived to remain positive. You thank your parents for their gracious attitudes that inspire you to look for the silver lining in all situations. Sure you can not sunbathe or prowl the forest during sunny days but no one knows the forest at Eclipse as well as you do. Your knowledge has come in handy more than a few times, being asked to guide night hunts with some of the most notorious warriors in the clan.

This is where you met Neteyam.

The firstborn of the infamous Toruk Makto and your future Olo’eyktan, you originally assumed he would have no interest in interacting with you. You knew him from afar, hearing the word spread of his kindness and diligence when it came to helping those around him. His alpha status only served to bring a larger gaggle of girls practically falling at his feet. As a beta and suffering from a rare condition, you naturally took yourself out of the run up. You were confident he would choose some sweet and knowledgeable omega that would be the perfect tsahik. 

However, your assumptions quickly crumbled as he progressively paid attention to you more and more throughout these night hunts. Instead of joining the rest of the alpha warriors gathering to share a strong drink after a successful kill, he would opt to check in with you. You were shy at first, unsure of how to act around such an influential member of the clan. However, there was something about those golden orbs and soft smile that quickly set you at ease. 

You still remember the first time you had sustained a small injury during these hunts. It was nothing more than a shallow slash to your forearm, but Neteyam had insisted on carefully wrapping it himself. You gushed over him like an idiot, reminding him that it was unnecessary but  he showed his stubborn side that day. 

At first you thought it was your own overactive imagination noticing the frequency of night hunts he signed up for increase, but eventually it had become every single night. No matter how boned-tired he was from a day of full Olo’eyktan training, he would beam at the sight of your small form. His scent was something that seemed to constantly enrapture your senses. The heavy essence of pine and hormonal swings was so much stronger than yours. It took some getting used to. The first few nights you were bashful to come home and find evidence of your arousal dampening your loincloth. 

Still, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that you had to live with. It took weeks for you to even consider the possibility of Neteyam showing interest in you. He had been consistent in bringing you out of your shell, getting you to talk about everything from your family to the fondest hope and dreams in your heart. Oftentimes he would stay back behind after the hunt to help you join him sitting on an overarching thick branch (you were grateful for the darkness of eclipse that hid your blush each time he effortlessly hoisted you up with large hands gently holding your waist) and chat away into the night. 

It was only when the gifts began that you gave these interactions a second thought. It had started small with simple flowers and fruits he had encountered throughout the day. However, they slowly became more intricate. The first time he brought you a small woven bracelet of sparkling gems, you had been gobsmacked. 

“Like the night sky. The only thing appropriate for my tanhi.” He had said, making you almost choke on your own spit. Tahni- little star: a nickname he had coined for you after the first week. A fitting term for someone that only knew the night sky. Still, it was the first time he had ever called you his. The terminology was not lost on you. 

When the sun arose once more and you had retired back to your protected hut, those words had kept you up, your small fingers twiddling with the bracelet. 

Taking your acceptance of the small gift, Neteyam had become even more bold with his courting. Before you knew it he was bringing a meal with him for you before every hunt. You had tried to decline the thoughtful gesture but he would not take no for an answer. 

“Someone has to make sure you eat, tanhi.” 

There was no fighting the alpha on this, so you graciously took the meals each night. He smiled proudly as you moaned in satisfaction of the carefully seasoned meat he had killed and prepared for you. Another testament to the mighty warrior and beneficial mate he is. 

You started to think that the eldest Sully was simply a flirt, or perhaps such a kind person that his actions came off as romantic. However, there was one instance that finally tipped you to accepting his affections. It was a particularly successful hunt, dragging home a thanator, when he had slowed down to your pace. Talking about anything and everything under the night sky, your breath was practically stolen from your lungs when he reached out to tuck a strand of your dark hair behind your ear. 

However innocent the gesture was, it was the lingering of his hand running down your neck that caused your heart to bash against your rib cage violently. A simple brush that had left his scent to coalesce with yours. An essence that would keep other suitors away. Out of habit, you mentally went to play it off as a simple accident, but the crooked smirk plastered across his face did not allow you. There was a primal satisfaction seated in those golden orbs, one that caused a pool of arousal to gather in your core. 

He knew what he had done. 

Neteyam was proud of it. 

His affection was untethered from that point forward. Accidental brushes of fingers had turned into blatant hand holding. The alpha never missed an opportunity to press a warm hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the terrain, or wrap an arm around your waist in order to steady you when walking over uneven forest floor. 

“What kind of alpha would I be if I let you get hurt?” 

He had spoken in response to your inquiry, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Falling for Neteyam was easy. Too easy. It was keeping yourself back from jumping into his arms or melting into his embraces that was difficult. No matter how strange and suggestive his behavior had been, you didn’t want to get your hopes up. After all, there was no saying what he got up to during the day. For all you knew he could be taking omegas out every day and weaving sweet gifts for them too. 

So you had decided to do what was best for everyone and take yourself out of the situation before something embarrassing could happen. You declined the request to accompany the hunting party and instead went to spend some more time with your family. If your parents noticed the difference in your appearance they did not show it. They were always good at giving you space, respecting your independence as an adult (although your mother did go out of her way to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent way to express her understanding and love). Neither of them knew about Neteyam at the time, it was easier that way. 

This fact only heightened their surprise when they saw Toruk Makto’s eldest son approaching their small gathering. You can still remember the intent gaze that Neteyam pierced you with. Your heart hammered out of your chest, hands fidgeting with the moss beneath you nervously. Neteyam signaled the traditional greeting to your parents before respectfully asking your father if he could borrow you for a moment. 

They were caught off guard, your dad turning back to send you a curious look, but naturally neither wanted to decline the Omatikaya prince. 

Once the two of you were finally alone, Neteyam immediately sprang into action. He grabbed your biceps and used that hold to turn you from side to side as he scanned your form. His intense inspection had blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing? I thou-”

“Where are you injured?” You twitched when he reached a hand out to inspect your flicking tail too. Confusion swarmed within you. You had sputtered and struggled to put together a full sentence.

“It has been three days, Tanhi. I blew one day off as exhaustion or a fluke and the second as pure coincidence but surely only an injury would keep you away from the hunt for three days.” His eyes finally met yours again when there was no wound to be found. His tall frame had towered over yours as he reached out to cup your cheek. 

That familiar warmth and adoration you had for him had returned within an instant. 

You stepped back, successfully out of his grasp.

“I’m fine.” You replied simply. 

His tail swatted in the humid air and those golden orbs had squinted into slits. The focused attention of that look full of suspicion was enough to hold you down to your spot. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as you tried desperately to keep the fidgeting at bay. It was one of the few times you were grateful to be beta because surely an omega would shrivel under the pressure of his looming presence. 

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Tahni. Now tell me why I’ve had to go without my little star for three whole days.” Neteyam placed his hands sternly upon his hips, ears twitching forward as if preparing to take in your explanation. An explanation that you felt could not be shared. Doing so was bound to undermine your plans, completely destroying the efforts that had been made. 

“The group seems to be more than sufficient without my guidance.” You don’t dare to meet his eyes, your own orbs trained at the ground instead. In a moment’s notice his sculpted body was once again inches away from yours. His warmth came off of him in waves, along with the heady aura of alpha pheromones. 

You couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran down your spine when he placed heavy hands on your shoulders and bent over your frame till you could feel his calm breath against your ear. Neteyam’s tail wrapped around your thigh. A part of your brain told you to run, understanding the alluring danger that awaited you, while the other yearned to curl up against his impressive physique. 

You couldn’t understand how any omega managed to be around this male without completely dropping to their knees.

Suddenly you had some sympathy for the girls that had always fawned over him. 

“Tell me the truth, sevin.” The heated words tickled at your ears and made your heart skip a beat. It was foolish to think that there was any chance of lying to Neteyam, the mighty warrior that walked with the confidence of the supernatural. 

So you did.

You had scrambled to messily explain how it would be best if the two of you spent less time together. Unfortunately this unrehearsed synopsis included an approach that painted yourself as the foolish beta with a crush on the Omatikaya prince and therefore unable to handle herself around him. It was not the perspective you had hoped for, but it was the only one that could have been presented in your state of jumbled thought. 

Neteyam shook his head, an almost fond smile upon his lips. 

“Tanhi, you really do not like to make things easy for me.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. The sound put you slightly on edge but there was no trace of anger in his expression. Amusement was easily perceivable in the raise of his hairless eyebrows. He had taken your humiliating and pathetic explanation in stride, in fact, he had found humor in it. 

“I thought I’ve made myself clear.” You were swooped into the encirclement of his arms in one quick motion. You squeaked and braced yourself against the warm muscles of his abdomen. “You are the mate I seek.” 

His words had thrown you into a spiral, your heartstrings plucking into rhythms of heightened emotion. It was almost too much to take in. A part of you still found security in denying these bold claims but there had been too much evidence at that point. Neteyam Sully had in fact been courting you. 

His head lowered, nuzzling at your face until you finally looked up at him. Your lips were only a breath apart. 

“If you’ll have me.” Neteyam whispered. 

There was no fighting the longings of your heart at that rate. That night you had agreed to his courting and within a month the two of you had been madly in love and preparing to officially mate. 

The process was faster, seemingly faster than anything else in your life. Night had always slowed you down from progressing in the normal rhythm of Na’vi milestones, but Neteyam had broken that pattern for you. 

You can still remember the vivid sensation of his tendrils connecting with your own. Those sparks of electricity that had created a direct line to his innermost feelings and thoughts. There was great solace to be found in the surging feelings of love and adoration he had for you, something you had been able to tap into. Still, nothing could ever compare with the way you felt for Neteyam. 

He’s your world. Your light. Your sun. 

Being with him feels like finally having a taste of those golden rays. You can see it in his smile. In the shake of his shoulders when his laughter trickles from soft lips. In the unashamed sparkle that overtakes his eyes in a coating whenever they land on you after a long day of training. 

Neteyam has become your world in only a matter of a few months. It is hard to imagine how you went so many years without this unbreakable connection between the two of you. Each night you wake up to the warm embrace of your mate who has come home from a long day of training. Soft kisses are placed along your eyelids, cheeks, and nose until your thick lashes flutter and you regain consciousness. 

The searing envious looks of other females can be felt at your back when the two of you join the rest of the clan for dinner each night, but it is only white noise in the presence of your handsome mate guiding you with a hand to the small of your back. In fact it becomes less than a passing memory when Neteyam goes on to share the events of the day in great detail, usually pulling out a tucked away gift he has found for you along the trails of his adventures. 

There is so much hidden beneath that emanating exterior of perfection that Neteyam upholds. He strips away those layers only for you, usually among the flowering meadow the two of you lay in while stargazing. The stories often end with your mate trailing off into a groggy murmur until the air fills with the sounds of his sleeping breaths. You prefer to stay tucked against him for a while longer, letting the moment last before you must wake him and shoo the mighty warrior back home for some much needed rest. 

While he sleeps you venture from the hut to forage and hunt, although Neteyam prefers to accompany you during dangerous hunts. You decide that what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. He is known to be an overprotective alpha anyway. Once food has been secured and your adventures have come to a close, you slip back into the darkened hut before the first break of dawn. Those specially made thick curtains are the difference between life and death for you. 

Although the tent has been sufficient for years, Neteyam continues to add to its layers. He is constantly worrying about the vulnerabilities of the hut, convinced that one slip could bring catastrophic consequences to his mate. So he works with his father to constantly rebuild and strengthen the exterior walls. There are times where you remind him of how unnecessary these actions are but Neteyam is undeterred by these conversations. So you let your mate continue his projects. If it brings him peace of mind to obsess over the structure then it must be doing some good. 

Things are great for the first month. Nothing sexual occurs during those first few weeks of being newly mated, out of respect to you. There is no denying that Neteyam has had experience in the ways of pleasuring females but you on the other hand have never been close to intimate with someone else. As a couple you decide to take things slow. However, you can not help but admire the restraint Neteyam shows when you catch the shift of his pheromones into that of lust or see the tightness of his loincloth after a particularly long make out session. 

Were it any other alpha you are sure that the time would have come for him to become impatient and work towards persuading you to go further with him. However, Neteyam knows that you are shy and nervous. He puts your needs before his own and constantly assures you that he is happy to wait so long as you feel comfortable when the time is right. 

Your apprehension has slowly been melting away. The soft caresses that travel along your form sends a burning thrill that is exotic to you. Moments where you are brave enough to straddle his lap while kissing, the friction of his groin against your core is electric. These new feelings have been quickly festering and building inside of you. The nerves have slowly morphed into alluring curiosity. It has been becoming harder to hold back.

For this reason, you’ve decided to tell Neteyam tonight that you are ready. Finally, the bond created through tsaheylu will be strengthened and confirmed by the intertwining of each other’s bodies. 

The last hints of sunshine have disappeared behind the moon. This time you wake before Neteyam has a chance to come wake you up himself. The nerves that bundle into a coil in your stomach have kept you from sleeping in so you decide to seek him out yourself. It shouldn’t be long till he is back from an exhibition with Jake. 

The village is lively with reuniting families after a prosperous day of duties. It's a familiar sight that has always brought a warmth to your heart, especially that of small children running to their mothers or fathers with grabby hands. There are times where you imagine sending your own child to wobble excitedly towards Neteyam, spun through the air by the mighty warrior that you are lucky enough to call your mate. 

High in the trees, hidden by the walls of a family hut you hear the familiar voice of Lo’ak. A smile tugs at your lips, confident that Neteyam is sure to be with his brother. However, that excitement is dampened slightly when the responding voice is not your mate’s but Unip’s. 

“I just don’t know how long he thinks this can go on.” Unip sighs.

“Well you know how Neteyam is. He will find a way to succeed and if not, he will die trying.” Lo’ak snorts, but there is a hint of concern in his nonchalant tone. It’s a timber that makes you halt in your tracks and ears twitch to hear the conversation. 

“It’s only going to get worse, you know. Once he is Olo’eyktan, half a night’s rest will not be enough anymore. He already looks half dead.” 

There is a silence that follows, only filled by the sound of your own heart thumping. 

“You’re never going to convince him otherwise, bro.” Lo’ak responds, amused tone faltering greatly. 

Stepping forward, you curve yourself around a thick tree trunk in effort to discreetly get a better look at the pair. Lo’ak’s back is facing towards you but even from this low vantage point, the lines of his tense muscle are easy to spot. Your golden eyes have become specialized for seeing in the dark after all these years, allowing a better image of his form and mannerisms. You are used to reading people’s expressions and body language with only the dim glow of eclipse. 

“Stubborn skxawng.” Unip shakes his head before leaning against the sturdy trunk. His scowl is illuminated by the soft red glow of a patch of sprouting flowers. The sight makes your stomach twist. 

Have things truly gotten this bad?

“Neteyam won’t leave her. You and I both know that. All that can be done is make peace with it.” Lo’ak shrugs his shoulders.

“And watch him turn into an old man in a few years. Those bags are sure to be bad for his pretty boy appearance.” Unip quips back, causing both the males to break out into laughter. 

The tension visibly eases between them but you are not laughing. In fact, you can feel the beginning of those twisting nerves pushing bile up your throat. All joyful anticipation has washed from your features, replaced with dread and horror. 

Your feet drum against the forest floor, stuck on autopilot and effectively taking you home. The beginning of streaming tears threaten to drop past your eyes. 

It’s true that Neteyam has been tired but it isn’t till now that you reply back your interactions and his recent appearance. Those dark circles aren’t as prevalent in the light of eclipse, perhaps they are more telling in daylight. Neteyam has a way of falling asleep in a matter of seconds once hitting the mat but you have always assumed that to be a part of his nature. Some people are naturally deep sleepers. 

However, now, all of these signs appear in a different light for you. Each conversation is played back in your head but of course Neteyam has never let his weaknesses show, especially ones that could be brought on by you. You know this and yet it is only now that you scold yourself for not being more perceptive, for not seeking advice and perspective from those around him.

His family and friends have an advantage that you can not achieve. Surely they would be the first to notice his changes in demeanor and health. They are the ones watching him work, train, and interact more closely with clan members. You have never been more envious of those walking in the sun in your entire life. This condition has always been a hassle for you but now it has turned into true heartache. 

This weakness that Eywa has given you is no longer just affecting you but now your perfect mate. This disease has spread to him in a way you scold yourself for not anticipating. 

How is he supposed to become Olo’eyktan, protecting and guiding the People all while being tethered to you? 

Eywa has destined your life to be forever restricted to the shadows, but that is not Neteyam’s path. 

You can spot the familiar dark canvases of your hut in the trees up ahead. No doubt Neteyam has already returned home at this point, if not then he will soon. Less than an hour earlier you were ecstatic to see him but now the thought of seeing those tired eyes makes you want to curl up into a ball. 

Needing more time to process, you opt to take a different route, one that leads to a secluded waterfall. Safe in the greenery and now sitting in the shallow area of the glowing water, you take a moment to breathe. Water trickles into a soothing pattern that has been associated with your memories in this found sanctuary. 

Truly, none of this should be a surprise. This ailment has been the driving course of your life thus far and you’ve grown used to it, letting go of certain aspects that are not meant for you. Neteyam is just another one of those. He is beyond your reach. Keeping him here would only hurt the clan. They need a leader that can be with them, present both physically and mentally. For the greater good it is time to let him become that Olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps you would have accepted this fact and stuck to it earlier on were it not for the great love you hold for him. Neteyam Sully holds your heart and soul effortlessly in his hands. There will never be another that lights up your life the same way he does and truth be told, you don’t want there to be. Forever your first and only love. 

Regardless, the time for being selfish is over.

Some Na’vi have the honor of dying a warrior’s death, going down in the name of protecting the People. Others sacrifice their time and energy serving the clan daily in the name of Eywa. You have been kept back from either of these duties so it makes sense that giving up the future Olo’eyktan would be your contribution. 

After all, how are you supposed to serve as Tsahik with your limitations?

This makes sense. Your brian tells you this is the logical solution. Life will go on. You will return back to a life that you have come to be content with over the years and Neteyam will find a proper mate that can serve The People by his side. 

Still, it is impossible to ignore the cracks that are slowly developing in your heart. It is difficult to imagine a life without your true love. The thought alone has a sob crawling up your throat. This sound however is morphed into a strange shriek when a pair of muscular arms suddenly grasp and pull you back against a hard chest.

The water splashes around the two of you and you can feel the rumble of Neteyam’s laughter as you are awkwardly shifted in his arms. 

“Baby girl, you are really off your game today.” He teases fondly before nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. An efficient shuffle has you more familiarly settled between the corded muscle of his toned thighs. Instinctually you lean back against him. 

“What? Nothing to say in your defense?” 

“Oh yeah uh just tired.” You lamely respond. 

“Silly Tanhi, today has barely begun.”

For you. 

The day has barely begun for you and only you. Every other Na’vi enjoy the blissful alignment of the sun and their ‘days’. You are the outlier. 

Gathering up your courage you finally lift yourself onto your knees and turn to face him. Neteyam grins, but for once you aren’t focused on the gleams of those pearly teeth. Sure enough there are dark circles in a crescent shape beneath his eyes. You reach out to thumb at those dark contrasts. The alpha blissfully misreads this as cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch and his smile broadens. 

“My sweet sevin.” He mumbles. Your stomach tightens back into that knot. Finally, he seems to notice the shift in your demeanor. The smile falters and he places his hand over the one cupping his cheek. The large veined hand completely covers yours. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It seems an impossible task to go through with what you know must be done. A part of you considers holding off, letting it last a little longer before you lose him forever. However, that would only result in a more sleep deprived Omatikaya Prince and the suffering of future Olo’eyktan. 

The longer you take to respond the faster the amusement in those golden orbs declines. He calls your name softly and turns his head to gently peck your palm. 

“I just-” You steady yourself. The words feel like acid crawling up your throat and sitting pressed against him only makes it burn more. Cautiously you detach yourself completely and settle down on the colorful rocks lining the shallow river. 

Neteyam immediately stiffens. His tail curls up into high alert and his ears twitch back slightly, but still you can see the now fake smile plastered on his face. 

“You’re…tired.” It’s a weak start but they are the only words you can force out. 

There is a flicker of surprise in his features but it melts away into a mocking eye roll. The corners of his lips are back to being turned up in a more genuine manner. 

“Well of course I’m a little tired Tanhi. Every mighty warrior should be if he’s done his job right.” The alpha chuckles and you can almost taste the deviation of his pheromones. He confidently reaches out to take your hand in his. “But never too tired to spend time with my sweet little star.” 

The cool rush of water is a dramatic contrast to the warm grasp Neteyam has on your hand. It feels like fire that curls up your veins and pushes tears to the back of your eyes. It’s too painful to be close like this. To see him obliviously flirt and cuddle as if all is well when you know deep down that this will be the last time you feel his touch. 

“No, I mean exhausted. Ma Neteyam-” You shut your mouth tight. That phrase was so easily in your arsenal of vocabulary but it’s time to start training yourself to stop using it. You brush the circles under his eyes again. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Realization seems to dawn for him.

“Oh you mean my eyes. Lo’ak was teasing me earlier about it. Didn’t think it would bother you so much, sevin, but I’m sure my grandmother has some herbs to lighten the color.” He laughs lightly.

“No, Neteyam. This is bad for you. Staying up every night only to push yourself to the limit the next day. Living in that darkened hut. Spending every last fiber of energy you have spending time with me. Taking care of me-”

“That is what mates do, Tanhi. I don’t want it any other way-”

“I am bad for you!”

The words cut through the air and suddenly every remnant of the playful atmosphere has disappeared. 

“Don’t say stuff like that, Tanhi.” His voice is firm, stern enough to be considered reprimanding. Neteyam eyes darken onto a duller glow. The musky scent of your mate shifts into that of a stronger presence. It’s moments like that that you remember how distinct his second gender is. 

“Neteyam, you know I’m right. This condition is no longer just hurting me but you too. Playing this game of back and forth makes no sense.” 

He sits up straight, back stiff as a rod. It takes everything in you to hold that gaze without bursting into tears and backing down. The flicker of his tail has turned into frantic swatting as his lips curl downwards. 

“What are you trying to say, love?”

You gulp and prepare yourself to utter words that weigh heavy in your heart. 

“We have to end this.” 

Silence drags on. The rush of running water and purring wildlife is the only thing that fills the air. Your tail swishes nervously in the water, causing a slight splash. No matter which way you squint or tilt your head, Neteyam’s expression is unreadable. Even your enhanced night vision is not enough to fully understand or anticipate the brewing emotions beneath those golden eyes. 

“No.”

Your mind sputters to a halt at the snipped response. He’s giving you nothing to work with. 

“Neteya-”

“Where is all of this coming from, yawne?” He reaches forward to cup your cheek but you stand up before he can. This close proximity is becoming too much. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but you need a reprieve from his love-filled gaze and tender touches. Otherwise, there is no way you will be able to do what needs to be done. You wonder if he knows this as you are met with a toned chest at eye level blocking your path. 

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Then why are you so worried all of a sudden?” He pleads for an answer but you have finally managed to slip past him and wade out of the water. The drum of your feet rings in your ears, taking you to Eywa knows where. Neteyam is hot on your heels. 

“It’s not just worry, it’s logic, Neteyam. Can’t you see? You are going to be Olo’eyktan. The People need a leader that won’t be tied to some nocturnal Na’vi that drains the last bit of energy you have left.”

The alpha goes to interject but the words are flying out of your mouth at such a speed at this rate, he has no opportunity. 

“They will need a Tsahik that can do more than just work a night shift. Not to mention one that actually understand healing protocal-”

“My grandmother has already offered to teach you.” He counters, stomping feet practically nipping at your heels. It’s not that you mean to walk away from him, but the dam that holds your suffocating emotions at bay is starting to crack and crumble. One look at him could weaken your resolve. This has to be done fast, ripped off like an adhesive bandage. 

“You deserve to be with someone that can lead The People with you. A mate that can serve both you and the clan in a way I never can. An omega that is a proper mate.”

A strong hand clamps around your bicep and spins you around. Neteyam glowers down at you with an intensity that is borderline desperate. The tears are starting to leave a glaze over your eyes, even as you avoid his own at any cost.

“You are my mate. You are the woman that I choose to spend the rest of my days with.” He tries to gently tilt your face towards him by grabbing your chin, but you flick it off. “We are mated before Eywa.” The crack in his voice tears at your heart. 

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long, I’m sorry. I foolishly let myself believe that you and I are meant to be but now it is clear that my head was simply in the clouds.” A sob thickens your voice until it is barely tangible. Words are failing you and you idly wonder how many more you will truly be able to manage in this state. 

You attempt to flee from his embrace once more, just a moment to escape that heartbreaking stare that follows your every move. Neteyam holds you gently by the biceps but there is enough force there to keep you in place. 

“We are, Tahni. All these other obstacles are just that, obstacles. Things we can overcome.” He slumps down, determined to finally have your eyes meet his. The curtain of your flowing hair is a weak shield against these efforts. You can feel the heat of his escalating breath tickle at your cheeks. He swoops in closer slowly, with the caution of closing in on a skittish prey. “It’s just you and me, little star.”

The flat of his nose finally rests against yours, lips only a sudden movement away.

There are promises of familiar comfort and happiness in this intimate position. Your nature keens towards his gentle touch. It prompts you to hide away every other concern, worried that it could break this moment of tranquility. 

However, that is exactly what you do.

“You have to break it.” 

There is a pause, a moment of shock that you take advantage of. Slipping out his hold, you watch realization slink across his features. It’s blood chilling, the look of horror that is clearly evident upon his handsome face. It’s a rare thing to render Neteyam speechless. He has grown up learning how to lead and command a room with confidence and grace. Seeing him now, mouth agape as his thoughts lag, it’s easier to see that there is simply a normal man behind the mighty warrior. 

A male that you have managed to strip away the light in his eyes, all evidence of excitement lost. 

It is now that you can truly see the aching restlessness and lost nights of sleep in his demeanor. He wilts before you. 

“You don’t mean that.” He insists, voice now hollow of its usual domineering confidence. 

“I do.” The timber of your voice shivers and shakes, doing nothing to strengthen your resolve. Still, the lost look that Neteyam sends you absolutely wrenches at your heart. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Words that are meant to reassure him at least slightly only make his tail halt movement, obvious that the phrase only digs the dagger deeper into his chest. 

“Everyone?” He whispers, hairless eyebrows drawing together. Hesitant steps lead you backwards, eager to begin your journey away from this tornado of darkened emotions. Away from the raincloud you have created between the two of you. “You…this is what you want?”

Want.

That small word is a palpable distinction. To change this argument from what needs to be done to the inner workings of your desires and dreams. To veer it towards the ever flowing river of devotion and love you know will always be in your heart for him. It’s the one move that leaves you completely defenseless.

This is the last thing that you want. 

He has to know that. He must know that. And perhaps that is why he faces you with this question head on, forcing you to say the words out loud. It’s a towering wall that you have no hopes of climbing. Lying is not your strong suit. Neteyam knows that. 

“Please Neteyam.” You send your final plea before turning on your heel and bolting. Vanishing into the trees before he has a second to form one syllable.

Lying isn’t your strength, but hiding is something you are familiar with. 

“She’ll probably cool down.” Lo’ak reassures him, handing a leaf with larvae to Neteyam. 

“What did I do wrong?” Neteyam wonders out loud. It’s difficult for Lo’ak to tell whether or not that question is rhetorical. The eldest Sully’s eyes are focused on the horizon, he’s lost. Off somewhere else. 

“Nothing, bro! Not everything is that simple.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam sees the wooden cup of strong drink pushed toward him but he declines. Drinking is the last thing he needs right now, although it is tempting. These past two days have been pure torture and sorrow. Washing every clouding thought away with the swig of fermented fruit would surely keep his mind off of you for a while, but it would never stop the permanent ache in his chest. 

Although Neteyam knows he must look awful because even his father encourages him to drink, despite the duties he is set to carry out the next day. Most nights he is advised to keep his wits about him, but Jake has let up since the event. 

“There has to be something I could’ve said. Perhaps something I can say now.” 

“Bro, you’ve already said more than enough. If your constant notes and begging haven’t got her to let you into the hut, I don’t think words are the problem here.” A grimace is etched into Lo’ak’s features but Neteyam turns away from the sight. He can’t handle the look of pity that his family seems to constantly be shooting him. 

He looks miserable. He is miserable. Every Na’vi with eyes can see that much. However, he doesn’t want sympathy. He needs solutions. A plan that will set things right again. Anything to bring his littler start back into his arms. 

“Ma Teyam,” Neteyiri gently coos, haunching forward to tuck on the tangled braids behind his ear. “Perhaps it is time to give her some space.” 

Usually his mother’s presence has the power to soothe away the worst of his worries, but today all he can do is sigh at her words. Sitting in problems has never been his strong suit. Neteyam is used to problem solving. Coming up with a strategy and executing it until the issue is nothing but a distant memory. He prays to Eywa that this too will become just that. Something that can be laughed at down the road.

However, sitting here now surrounded by people and never feeling more lonely, it’s hard to imagine ever laughing at such a thing. 

Neteyam continues to pick at the grass next to the untouched meal. The sun has been down for over an hour now. Dinner is wrapping up and there is still no sight of you…again. Every crunch of a leaf or flitter of voices has him turning to search for your small frame in the darkness. It’s an effort that leaves him empty handed every time but, no matter the frequency of failure he can’t stop himself from whipping his head around anyway. 

“You know, there was a time that I was upset with your father. Livid, actually. And yet here we are today.” Neytiri almost purrs, trying to comfort her son.

“Yeah and did he wait around and give you space?” The words come out harsher than intended but Neytiri doesn’t tell him off like usual. Instead her ears pin back and she runs a thumb across his cheek. Jake and Neytiri lock eyes from across the fire, a silent communication that has Jake clearing his throat. 

“I’m not sure if I’m the prime example in this scenario, kid.” A deep chuckle accentuates Jake’s words. He goes to close his mouth and leave it at that but his mate sends him one fierce look that lets him know he is far from done comforting their eldest. “I mean uh truth be told, I was an absolute knucklehead before I met your mother.”

“Still are.” She corrects him. 

Jake doesn’t try to fight against the claim, but he does nervously clasp the back of his neck, searching for the right words to say. 

“Tanhi still hasn’t eaten. Must go.” Neteyam abruptly calls, on his feet within a heartbeat. He gently cradles his untouched meal in the palm of his hand as he navigates his way out of the circle of his family. Neytiri sighs and Jake sends her an apologetic look as they watch their son slither off into the night once again. 

Even Tuk sends sad eyes in the direction of her older brother as he walks away. 

Upon reaching the dark curtains of your hut, Neteyam is unsure whether or not you still reside inside. There is no sign of light emanating inwards. For a moment he is convinced that you have slipped out during his absence, but then there is a ruffle of covers that his ears manage to pick up. Stalking forward carefully, he leans in to pick up on every sound possible. 

Even with his alpha hearing, there is little to no noise coming from the hut. Or at least no sound that is useful to him in any way. He wonders what you are up to within those darkened walls. His hindbrain urges him to go inside and find out for himself, cradle you in his arms till there are promises of never leaving again. However, he knows better than that. 

Neteyam waits to be invited in. 

“Tanhi?” The sound echoes through the night air, but no response comes. With a sigh he kneels down by the entrance, cautiously pushing the leaf underneath the thick rim of fabric.

“You missed dinner again.” Neteyam knows he shouldn’t expect a response at this point, but his tail still naturally droops to the floor when one doesn’t come. “I brought some for you.” 

He waits once more, but silence hangs heavy in the air. Neteyam’s ears twitch to focus in on the minute sounds again. The shallow breathing is confirmation enough of your presence. A part of him almost wishes that he is talking to a blank piece of fabric. If you had left then he could have at least spent that anxious energy scouring the forest for your slim frame. If you had left it would give him hope that you’ve hunted, eaten, gone on a walk. Anything that isn’t sitting in your hut. 

“Do me a favor, baby. Please eat something. Maybe you have been when I’m not breathing down your neck,” He gives a humorless laugh. “But…I just want to make sure you’re healthy. I’m starting to get worried.”

When the silence continues he doesn’t leave immediately. The weight of the stress and heartache is tangible. He can feel it in his bones. He can sense it when in the lag of his maneuvers and movements during flight in his training. Truth be told, Neteyam is sure that it’s visible to others, shining through in his trudging walk to and fro. 

Sitting here in the grass, the same place he had spent that first night you started icing him out, he can feel the weight of sleep pulling him downwards. The muscles of his body scream in protest at every movement. Physically his body is ready to give way, but his hindbrain weaves together signs of distress all night long. 

His instincts yearn to be close to you again, close to his mate who he shares a special connection with that nothing can replace. At times it is painful, that bond between the two of you. Neteyam remembers many days where that connection has been physically fortified by your time together, binding tighter with every brush of his fingers along your skin. However, he did not anticipate the effects of the opposite reaction. 

Going to sleep alone and cold, leaves a heavy weight on his chest. At times it feels almost suffocating. Sleeping outside of your hut doesn’t erase these pains, but it does dull them slightly. He wonders if you’ve ever stepped over him during his slumber. Actively trying to or not, his senses remain on high alert throughout the night. He can wake at the drop of a leaf, false hope that it may be your small form finally stepping past those heavy curtains. 

“Neteyam.” His head whips around at the voice, but it isn’t your honey timber that flits through his ears. Instead it comes from behind him, where Kiri stands with her hands woven together in front of her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Not bothering to answer, she instead motions for him to follow her. He glances back at the entrance of your hut, but one look at Kiri’s down turned lips has him groggily shifting back onto his feet. She doesn’t speak till the two of them are out of ear shot. 

“Mom and Dad sent you?” Neteyam guesses, tail already drooping between his legs. It bothers him that his parents are rushing to bandage things up, treating him like a child. Advice is appreciated at the best of times, but this is his life. He is an adult, and has been for years now. The rift that has been fortified between you two is his problem to solve and therefore his choice on how to fix it. 

“No, just thought I would save you from making a fool of yourself.”  She continues to effortlessly lead him away from the hut. 

“I’m just dropping some food off.”

“I know.” There is no hint of mocking or disbelief in her tone. She simply grabs his hand gently and guides him back along the path home. Neteyam braces himself for a spew of advice but it never comes. Kiri to his surprise is silent, no hint of tension lingering between them. Still, he knows what message is being conveyed. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t continue to barricade your front door. 

It’s moments like these that Neteyam comes to truly admire how much his younger sister has grown up. She prances through the forest with a humble confidence. Each step taken with the certainty of belonging. Kiri no longer needs others to tell her who she is. Similarly she feels no need to press her opinions on her older brother. She waits patiently. As if she knows that he will come to her when the time is right.

It is a quality he looks upon with great fondness and gratitude. 

Life has thrown you more obstacles than you care to count. This condition has been a stumbling block your entire life, but you refuse to let it keep you from the finishing line. You consider yourself a persevering person, one that is not easily taken down. When things get difficult you have always been taught to gather your bearings and get to work. Some sacrifices are painful but meant to be left behind if they are keeping you from fulfilling a happy and purposeful life. 

So for the first few days, you try to get back into your normal routine. The first night was spent weaving baskets together through the blurred vision of your tears. The basket came out looking like it had been mauled by a Palulukan. Regardless you continued to attempt getting back into your old routine, however those were usually filled with night hunts, an activity you were terrified of seeing Neteyam at. So you declined. 

However, truth be told, it only takes twenty four hours to realize that this heartbreak is intruding upon everything you do. You open your eyes as sunset turns to Eclipse and the first thing that surfaces is the dread at needing to go to communal dinner. So, you push dinner off. Neteyam is persistent in bringing you a plate each night, usually saying a few apologies and begging once again for you to come out. 

Your lips are raw and sore from biting into them in order to keep sobs at bay every time he comes to visit. Those first few nights he spent laying outside your hut was an awful mixture of longing and agony. His potent essence was easily carried through the night wind, constantly bringing it to your senses. You had twisted in the thin blankets on your hammock to stop yourself from going out there and cuddling next to him. 

On the third night, he doesn’t stay. 

You expect to feel relieved when he silently sets the serving of food down and leaves.

And yet, there is a part of you that longs for the draw of his smooth voice, no matter how distraught and rough it has become over the past few days. A part of you seems to also intrinsically sense his presence, even in the midst of slumber. Now that he spends his nights away from your hut, the emotional turmoil has become too much to handle.  

Simple tasks pose as daunting accomplishments, ones that already feel like impending defeat. So, you slowly start losing those habits too. Your eyes run out of tears to shed so instead you spend more than a reasonable amount of time pondering on your life. You consider what it is that brought you to these circumstances, questioning whether or not you were the one to blame for this heartbreak. Perhaps, you were the one easily swayed into promises of fairy tales. 

Before you know it a whole week has passed and you haven’t stepped foot outside. Recognizing this fact makes you feel pathetic and helpless, something that you don’t take a liking to. So, with red rimmed eyes and a congested nose, you take up a new purpose. Wielding together weapons from the materials in your hut. 

Although they’re nothing to gawk at, the finished results are enough to convince yourself that you are contributing to the welfare of the clan. The steps are repetitive and allow your thoughts to wander while doing so. By the second week you have donated a fair amount to the hunting parties without having to leave your home, thanks to the kindness of your mother. 

Your parents drop in frequently, but it’s obvious that they too find these visits painful. It’s an emotional ball and chain to see you wither away into something different. Visits that used to be full of vibrant laughter and storytelling now consist mostly of their own updates and pleas for you to come outside. Each time you assure them that you will…soon. 

It’s not a lie, at least not to you. 

Despite the physical ache of your heart every time you think of Neteyam’s smiling face and the bond that is now nothing but dust between you, there is still hope in your heart. A hope that someday you will recover from these lovesick feelings and finally be able to look upon the Omatikaya prince as any other clan member would. Purpose will return to your everyday tasks and Neteyam will only reside in your mind as Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. 

Still, you would be naive to ignore the weighted awareness of his presence that consumes you every time he comes to drop meals off. You can sense him before his footsteps are even audible. Occasionally, he will say a few encouraging words or promises of solution but some nights he simply places the food there and stares at it sadly before disappearing once more. Both instances strangle your heart in their grasp. 

You thought that his scent would lessen once the bond was broken, but you figure it is alpha status to thank for always sending his essence of fresh pine through your hut at each visit. In some ways it feels like the only full breaths you took. The woven walls still allow air in, but only breezes warped with his scent remind you of being outside. 

It’s on the two week mark that there is a shift in the miserable routine. No meal is brought to the entryway. Hours go by and Neteyam never comes by. You’ve been living off of those nightly meals and while one meal is not hardly enough to maintain a status of full health, its loss is even worse. At first, it appears that Neteyam has given up. He is tired of chasing after you and rightfully so you suppose. This is meant to be a step in the right direction, but you cry yourself to sleep that night. Apparently, your body had an extra storage of tears after all. 

However, when it happens again, your theories start to change. A small slice of fruit is left outside on a leaf by the curtains in place of a meal. It’s delicious with juice squirting along your tongue in a dramatic symphony of taste. It’s the type of experience that leaves one wanting for more. Initially you are disappointed when the small piece is gone, but you remember where this food comes from. It would only take a five minute walk to approach the communal fire and snatch some away for yourself. 

Only moments away from dipping outside that entry way for the first time in two weeks, you have another thought. 

Neteyam only put one piece.

Would it not have been easier to leave a whole fruit rather than take the time to cut and separate one morsel of it onto a leaf as an offering.

It wasn’t an offering, it was an enticement. 

You stay behind, trying to forget the sweet tang of the dessert. 

Sure enough the suspicion is correct when the next night one piece of wrapped chocolate is left outside with a note.

Found this during the raid this week. There’s a whole bag left sitting in my hut. Let me know if you want some more.

-Neteyam 

The chocolate is a tiny ball wrapped in a red textured material that is unfamiliar to Pandora. Chocolate is something you never knew of before Neteyam. However, now it has become one of your all time favorite delicacies, especially with the rarity of its availability. Neteyam took a great liking to showing you around the outpost and the stocked treasures they were stealing from the old Hell’s Gate post and the new trains they were constantly raiding. He would explain the random customs and stories of Sky People that he hears from his father while carefully unwrapping the delicious pieces for you. 

Some days you would even have him read some of the English text, whether from the wrappers or other books that are kept around the outpost for the human scientists to enjoy at their leisure. You never understand a word of what he says, but the sounds are fascinating to hear in Neteyam’s familiar timber. Although the Mother Tongue of the Sky Demons, you’ve always been fascinated by Neteyam’s ability to speak it. Something very distinctly attractive about his extra abilities. 

You sigh and thumb at the round ball of chocolate. It melts on your tongue, creating an explosion of sweet smooth sensations. Leave it to Neteyam to try and lure you out through your love of chocolate. That night you flatten out the wrapper, running your thumb over the English text that appears as nothing more than scribbles to you. It serves as a painful reminder of the golden memories the two of you have shared. 

It remains clamped in your fist the entire day.

Heavy eyelids blinking open slowly, you can still feel the strange texture of that wrapper between your fingers. Contrary to your lack of activity, your body feels sore. Every muscle seems to be wound the wrong way and the air in your hut feels moist and stuffy. Stretching out, your foot hits the food supplies basket you keep and knocks it over. You stumble to put the object away, or rather you try to before you realize that it’s empty.

The last of your supplies is gone. 

Regardless of your feelings and fears, you need to go outside today. It’s time to face the music. 

Your toes curl and feet flex before carefully shifting to stand. Pushing aside clusters of baskets and tools you finally breach the front entryway of your hut. Expecting the air to have cooled down by now, your skin prickles strangely at the feeling of heat against your back. You rush to throw off whatever blanket or item of clothing that must have stuck to you but then your eyes are blinded. Sheer light invades your vision, drenching every sight in white. 

Stumbling across the forest floor, it truly takes you more than a moment to understand what is happening. The harsh light, the foreign heat. This is sunlight.

A pure beam of sunlight that has not disappeared behind the moon yet. 

Your delayed reaction finally allows you to search for the entryway and try to scramble towards safety but it’s impossible to see with the brightness of the world turned up to one hundred. Your eyes can’t manage to stay open for more than a second, each time feeling a burning sensation that is unbearable. Soon, though, it seems to be too late as your limbs grow heavy and your skin heats uncomfortably. Even when that last ray of sunshine disappears, your body continues to torment you with a rising heat.

The sensations become too much. The weight of your own head drags you down. The world spins around you in disorienting directions. Only a glimpse of blue skin is caught before you collapse into someone’s arms and the world turns blissfully black again. 

“Move before I kick you out.” Mo’at warns, but her tone holds a morsel of sympathy despite the strict instruction. 

You are laid out along the mat of her healer’s tent with half the Sully family gathered around. Neteyam can hardly keep his hands off of you, constantly checking to see if you have cooled down yet. Each time renders him disappointed, ears folding back against his head. Mo’at is quickly losing patience as she is constantly swatting the boy away in order to apply the series of healing balms. 

“She’s burning up.” He protests, but finally moves out of her way. His idle hands find a new place along his knees where the blunt nails dig into his skin. Kiri and Tuk surround their brother but are careful to not impede too much on his space. His panicked dread rolls off of him in waves, a palpable tension that can be felt by everyone in the tent. 

“How long was she exposed?” 

“I don’t know. Can’t be more than a few minutes maybe. She was hardly past the entrance when I found her…I….is she going to be ok?” His voice cracks as tears finally well up over his golden orbs. Tuk places her small hand on his shoulder. 

“Only the Great Mother knows that.” She pauses, looking up to see her grandson’s crumbling composure. “She is hot. Her temperature needs to drop significantly.” 

The message doesn’t seem to settle on Neteyam. His gaze continues to focus on your unconscious face.

“Neteyam.” His head finally snaps up at his grandmother’s stern voice. “Go fetch me cold water from the river.” A basin is handed to the alpha but she can already tell there is reluctance in his expression. 

“Now.” It’s harsher than Mo’at would like to be but she knows that getting the concerned alpha outside of the tent is essential for her to complete the healing rituals. His presence is a distraction that has her own emotions tugging her away from the work at hand. 

Neteyam purses his lips and sends one last glance towards you. He cradles your cheek and leans down to softly press a kiss to your forehead, whispering promises to return. Then finally, he rushes out of the tent, driven by the given task. 

The hours rush and drag simultaneously for Neteyam. It becomes difficult to believe that it has already been a full twenty four hours and yet every minute that your eyes are not open feels like a year to him. Jake recruits Norm and some of the other scientists to take a look at you in the outpost. Moat is naturally displeased by the change at first but even she can’t deny that the old metal portable is a safer place for you to hide from the sun. Thick blankets and rugs are hung over the windows to keep the rays of sunshine out. 

Between the expertise of the scientists with their modern technology and the healing powers of Tsahik, things begin to look grim when there is little to no change in your state. Neteyam becomes increasingly more tense with every passing hour that yields no result. At some point his family stops trying to convince him to take breaks. Tuk takes it upon herself to gather and deliver a good serving from the communal fire for her older brother at every meal. 

Kiri is constantly teetering between helping her grandmother wrap cooling salves of thick leaves on your skin and foraging through the forest for different materials that could be used to create various healing ointments. 

Lo’ak tries to provide his brother with some pleasant company. If not that, then at least an annoying younger brother that can keep his mind off the matter for a few minutes. He tells jokes and shares random stories, usually featuring young alphas and the things their idiotic pride leads them to do. He has a plethora of these events saved up, having been training the new batch of future warriors almost daily. Those stories shift to other couples’ drama and fights when Neteyam laments over the past few weeks, assuring his brother that rough patches are normal in relationships and that perhaps he is not the worst skxawng to be found in the forest. 

Jake and Neytiri watch the scene with sorrowful eyes, discussing in the privacy of their home what needs to be done for their son and you. 

At hour thirty six, you begin to squirm. Every muscle seems to creek with each movement, seemingly as rusty and worn as the door to the outpost that takes an extra shove to open. It’s the burning heat that you notice next. It seems to travel along your veins and cover you in a suffocating cloud. It brings on feelings of almost claustrophobic symptoms. 

Finally, the flutter of your lashes reveal your golden eyes to the synthetic lighting of the outpost makeshift hospital wing. Only one electric light is turned on down the hallway. The rest of the ambience comes from lit candles scattering the surfaces around you. Their flicker is soft and soothing, but it’s the familiar scent of timber and pine that has your muscles finally relaxing. 

The surface beneath your head is cool to the touch, you rub your cheek against it. 

“Tanhi.”

That soft makeshift pillow is his thigh. Your already burning cheeks seem to reach new levels of inflamed rose color as you drowsily look up at him.

“You’re awake.” His voice is thick with emotion, almost choking the sounds from his throat. On its own volition your hand shakily reaches up to swipe away the tear traveling down his cheek. His skin is cool to the touch, such a different contrast to the usual warmth that you remember radiating off of him in your nights together. Your thin arm shakes from the strain of holding it upwards, he grabs your wrist gently and reluctantly helps you lower it back to your side. 

“Yes.” The sound comes out more hoarse and gravelly than you anticipated. You clear your throat before continuing. “How long have I been out?” 

“Over a day.”

A few moments of sunlight and suddenly a day and a half has been taken from you. It’s a lot to process, especially with the hazy pounding assaulting your head with every moment. The usual strength and energy in your body seems to have greatly dissipated, leaving you feeling as nothing but a shell of your normal self. Your attempt at sitting up is not only hindered by the strain of your abs but also cut short by Neteyam’s large hands gently pushing you back down. 

“No no Tanhi, just rest. Don’t strain yourself.” It’s too easy to settle your head back onto his welcoming lap. A small voice at the back of your head warns you of reversing all the progress that has been made, but it seems insignificant when Neteyam begins to tenderly brush his fingers through your hair. Nothing can take away the ache of your body and heat of your blood boiling but his touch does finally stir your heartbeat into a steady rhythm. It’s as if a weight is lifted off of you as your senses become filled with his essence. Every point of contact between you is like fire and ice. He is the ice that you welcome greatly, the only thing that seems to relieve the burning along your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes almost closed once more. 

“Whatever for, love?”

“I don’t mean to trouble you. I should’ve been more diligent, tracking the sun’s cycle..” Your lungs seize into a painful invisible grip, forcing a coughing fit to begin. Neteyam is quick to shush your sentence away and help you get some cool water down. His large hand rests over the heat of your forehead. The eldest Sully frowns down at you, no doubt still feeling the evidence of your raging fever. 

“Hush, Tanhi. There’s no place I would rather be right now.” 

You watch the shadows dance across lines of his collarbones and sharp features as he prepares another cool wrap to lay across your forehead. The grip you have on conscious thought is weak, but even at your mental peak you are sure that there is nothing more beautiful than the man above you. His harsh and sharp features that frame those kind and insightful eyes. He has an ethereal beauty that has always captured you. 

 “You’re going to be ok.” It’s unclear whether or not the sentiment is meant for you or rather himself. His hairless brows pinch into those familiar clenched lines. You recognize them from days he would come home to, the evidence of his still racing thoughts clearly etched into his features. 

Through the constant ache of your body and heat that tries to lure you to sleep, it takes you a moment to recognize the pheromones drifting off of him. You’re surprised to find that you can still identify the shift of emotions through his essence. Supposedly your sense of smell is better than you thought for a beta. The curling sadness and anxiety that comes off of him in waves, however, is something you wish could not be so easily detected. It is foreign and strange when mixed with his calming perfume. Neteyam isn’t usually one easily frazzled. 

Neteyam settles a clear plastic over your mouth and it takes a moment before you recognize it as the Avatar oxygen masks. The air filtered through it is clearer and more readily accepted by your lungs. After a few breaths you nod at him and he pulls it away again. 

Silence ensues. You yearn to break it with some semblance of an apology or explanation, but the words never come. Your body has other ideas as it drifts in and out of consciousness. Several times you wake to see another member of the Sully family perched next to Neteyam. However, the oldest Sully child never leaves. The hold you have on time becomes almost nonexistent as you slip back and forth between reality and fever induced dreams.

 Eventually you begin to wake periodically in Neteyam’s arms, head laying on his chest or coddled in his lap. Each time you consider saying something, knowing that he is no longer your mate. You have no claim on him and therefore no right to use him in this way, but his skin is cool and calms the sizzling heat upon your own. The very idea of creating distance between you two causes a spike of anxiety to take hold. 

It would be all too easy to blame this on your fever and the aid he provides, even in your state of watered down thought you know the truth. There is a yearning to be close to him again. To feel the gentle caresses that line your lips and cheeks as you sleep. To fall into a fantasy where the two of you never split, convincing yourself that today is simply a small sick day where your mate pampers you. The natural instincts of your beta nature furthermore aches for the calming presence of an alpha. Even the simple actions of his rising and falling chest that contains a steady heartbeat lulles your nature into a submissive calm. 

It is such a dramatic contrast to the empty abyss that has replaced your heart over the past few weeks. Falling into Neteyam feels natural, as expected as the waves that crash against the shore. It’s an ironic feeling to have considering the most inconvenient and problematic characteristics of your relationship. He was never meant to be yours. 

You chant those words in your head, willing them to echo true. 

This time, your eyes flutter lazily open to the feeling of his slim tail wrapping itself around your upper thigh. With creaky drowsiness you look up to find him fast asleep, lips parted softly with shallow breaths escaping soundlessly. Sprawled across him, head on his chest, this position resembles that of your usual sleeping position together. Or at least, what it used to be. Before the first cracks of dawn you would slip back into the tent and gently fall into his dozing embrace. It was not uncommon to find his tail slink around one of your limbs possessively all while never stirring from his unconscious state. 

Looking around the dingy outpost, it’s just the two of you. The plastic material of the mask around your neck feels uncomfortable around your heated skin. You find a matching one around Neteyam’s own throat. Although showing no signs of struggling breathing, you gently place it against his lips. When the clear oxygen filtered through his lips, Neteyam stirs.

You contemplate faking sleep when his ears twitch and eyes slowly open, but they immediately land on you. 

“Yawne.” Neteyam groans, voice thick with sleep. The deep rumble of his morning voice always makes your stomach do somersaults. “How are you feeling, Tanhi?” 

His ears pin back when you veer away from his efforts to cup your cheek. 

“A bit better.” Your arms tremble as they push against Neteyam pectorals to try and sit up properly. Despite his gentle protests, you finally manage to remain upright for the first time in days. The room spins around you. It’s only by the grace of Neteyam’s hands supporting your back that you remain sitting. “What time is it?” 

It feels like night but then again the heavy blankets over the outpost windows would show no indication of broad daylight if present. 

“Middle of the night.” 

“Then I should go.” Your feet are barely planted on the ground before Neteyam is pulling you back into his arms. 

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you out there in this condition, do you?” His chest rumbles with a stern timber, but his hold is tender and gentle. You are tempted to roll your eyes at the protective behavior, but you’re worried that doing so would put the room back into orbit again. 

“You need rest.” 

“I can rest at home.” 

“Like hell you will.” Neteyam scoffs, using another phrase he so commonly picks up from his father. You can practically feel the protective growl that yearns to climb up his throat, but a sigh comes out in its place. “You’re shaking, Tanhi. Let me take care of you.” 

His knuckles graze your cheek delicately, sending a cool shiver along your shoulders. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” 

Neteyam’s hand stills before dropping heavily to his lap. The heated breath coming from his lips tickles at the back of your neck. Were it not for your already trembling form you are sure that his presence alone would erupt goosebumps and shivers along your body. The pressing weight of silence is dizzying, tempting you to lay back down. You can practically hear the cogs in his head turning at a rapid pace. 

“Please just hear me out for a moment.”

Turning around to face him takes more effort than you would like to admit. Seeing those sad golden eyes without melting takes even more. 

“Five minutes is all I ask.” You hesitate, biting your bottom lip. “And if by the end of it you are sick of hearing from me then I promise I will leave you alone. My grandmother will take over caring for you and I will…respect your wishes.” His words are strangled, that suffocating dread pulling his features into a deep frown. 

“Ok.” 

The shimmer of hope is barely visible in his shining eyes but it still wrenches your heart. 

“My entire life has been about being Olo’eyktan. I’ve watched my father lead the people since I could barely walk and since then I have always known that someday that would be me. I wake up every day and the first thought that comes to mind is what needs to be done in order to become the mighty leader that everyone expects me to be. For a long time I’ve thought that my path was already decided by Eywa. Find an omega suitable of being tsahik, settle down with her, and lead till my son can take over. I was ok with that, I’d accepted my fate.” Neteyam shifts to his knees, fingernails digging slightly into his own thighs. Apprehension spoils his scent, creating a new mixture you are unfamiliar with. It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Neteyam nervous before. 

“Then I met you.” 

Your eyes dart to the laminate floor. 

“I…I’m usually a lot better with words.” He chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. “It occurred to me recently that I’ve been negligent in our relationship. I never truly explained why I chose you. Why you are the person I can’t live without. Perhaps if I had we wouldn’t be in this situation now.” 

“Neteyam it’s not-”

“Please let me finish, Tanhi.” 

You nod softly, careful to not increase the already blooming headache pounding at your skull. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” A weak snort transforms into a cough raking up your throat. “I don’t mean because of ailment, yawne.” He clarifies and you suddenly feel embarrassed for assuming so quickly. Neteyam pauses his little speech to reach behind and once again carefully bring a cup of water to your parched lips. Gratefully, you let the cool substance slink down your throat to soothe the scratchy ache. 

Once he seems to be sure that another fit is not about to come on, Neteyam continues. 

“You have this unyielding spirit, determined to forage through any storm. Eywa herself puts you in the shadows and you conquer the terrain. The air around you hums with a quiet confidence that is…” He searches for the right word. “Intoxicating.” 

A laugh escapes your lips and yet you feel nothing resembling humor. Your hairless eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. Neteyam shows no acknowledgment of your reaction as he instead puts the mask back against your mouth. 

“I’ve been drawn to you since that first night hunt. Surely, that isn’t a secret.” He laughs into his own mask that is raised to his lips. If only he knew how oblivious you were to his intentions those first few weeks. “You’re fiercely determined and independent yet hold a gentle empathy and kindness for those around you that I could only ever hope to imitate. And stubborn too.” Neteyam chuckles with a shake of his head. “Fucking stubborn enough to tell a dumb alpha like me off, consequences be damned.” 

Your lungs can only manage a simple huffed laugh, but the corners of your lips are already turning upwards subconsciously. 

“When I’m around you,” His eyes pierce through you. “I can finally bear that weighted pressure of expectations on my chest. You make it light.” Neteyam leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your upturned ear. “My little star.” 

Your cheeks are damp and it is only then that you realize tears drops have been escaping your eyes. Neteyam thumbs them away with tender care. 

“I’ve grown accustomed to sacrificing whatever it takes to become Olo’eyktan. I’ve written my life off as not my own. I’ve given everything I can and could in order to fulfill this role. You are the only thing that I can not sacrifice. And maybe that is selfish of me, but I also know that without you I’m simply a shell of the man I am with you.” 

“I could never be Olo’eyktan without you by my side.” 

“But how am I supposed to be beside you when I can’t even step a foot into the sun without falling apart at the seams?” 

“You truly think that I haven’t thought about that, yawne?” Neteyam’s lips quirk into an amused smile. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you that Lo’ak and I have been building a black out healers tent.” You gape at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I suppose I should’ve known better than to think I could pull one over on you.” 

It’s foolish, you tell yourself. Another darkened tent doesn’t solve all of the problems. It doesn’t erase the strain this relationship would have on Neteyam or allow you to operate during the daytime hours, unless you are content to remain in the tent for all of your days. And yet, there is a sliver of hope growing in your bosom. 

“Nete, I don’t know what to say.” His braids swing over the intense eyes that focus on your every move. He’s tense, ready to jump in at the notice of resistance. “But, I can’t live my life in a dark tent.” 

“Of course not. I’m talking about a compromise. Lo’ak, he takes over in the mornings while you and I start the day in the midafternoons. Tsahik duties in the tent for a few hours and then the rest of the night spent together. Leading together. Hunting together.” The dopey grin that spreads upon his lips is fiercely adamant in capturing your heart once more. It takes everything in you to not reach out and pinch the mighty warrior’s cheek. A notion Neteyam is known to reprimand with a playful glare. 

“You make it sound so simple.” It’s too much to meet his gaze. You prefer the view of the worn down tiles as you take another calming breath from the mask. The pace of your heart is evermore increasing and part of you wonders if this conversation has the ability to make you faint. 

A hand beneath your chin gently prods you to look back up again. He whispers your name, soft but clear in the quiet outpost.

“We have a choice.”

The words weigh heavy in the air, drawing your ears to perk forward in anticipation. 

“I know that may sound like a lie to you. However, if there is anyone that understands their life being determined from birth, it’s you. You and I have been pushed and kept into our respective boxes, taught to dream of only the realistic paths ahead of us.”

You wish to say it’s untrue, but any other reality has been stripped away from you from your first breath and morphed into only that of fairy tales. 

“We get to choose whether or not we believe that. I’ve accepted my destiny, Tanhi, but I can not bring myself to see my journey walking besides anyone that’s not you. I’ve already chosen. You are what I will not sacrifice.” Neteyam’s calloused fingers weave into your hair, hands on the sides of your head. 

“It’s your turn, Tanhi. What do you choose?”

“Is that your definition of fumbling words?” Your chuckle is choked with tears. Neteyam’s short laughter joins your own, his lips already starting to spread into that smile you adore so much. 

The past few weeks have been a constant building of that fortress around your heart. You’ve tried to convince yourself over and over again that the two of you parting ways is for the best. These mantras have ripped your heart out and left you in a state of empty sadness, but they also have created a sturdy wall, one that is hard to crumble. Naturally, it is Neteyam that ever stands a chance at breaking through. Sweet Neteyam that knows you so thoroughly that he doesn’t require brute force to get through, he finds a hold from the inside, reading you like a book until there is nothing left for you to hide. 

This experience has been a draining uphill battle, but one that you have embarked on because you’ve been convinced that the right thing to do is often the hard thing. However, now, the story shifts. You are left wondering if perhaps this whole time, running away is not the hard thing at all. It’s staying that proves to be the most difficult battle to fight. It’s staying that requires your heart to be opened and at the mercy of failure and disappointment. Leaving Neteyam isn’t the noble cause you once thought it to be. 

It’s hiding. 

“You really have some nerve calling me stubborn.” You try to joke, but tears are already cascading down your cheeks at an alarming rate and you can tell Neteyam is seconds away from scooping you back into his lap. 

“Well I admit being stubborn has its reward sometimes.” He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps it’s paid off for me this time?” 

“Perhaps.” You smile coyly at him. It takes bracing a stabilizing hand against the floor to stop yourself from falling over when you lean forward but it’s worth the exhilarating feeling of his lips against yours once more. 

Neteyam is cautious and gentle, moving his lips softly in sync with yours, but you can feel the restraint it takes for him not to swallow you whole. However, you are still healing so Neteyam treats you the way you expect any alpha to: like a delicate flower. Your own tears wet the canvas of both of your cheeks and it takes a moment to realize that small droplets are falling from Neteyam’s eyes too.

The kiss is warm and tender. Relief washes through your body in a wave that makes you realize how much pain you truly were in. How even the very bones in your body finally lose their ache when Neteyam slips an arm around your back to bring you closer. 

You’re forced to break the kiss earlier than desired as Neteyam can feel the way your body lags to get air into its lungs. The soft pants that leave your lips are soon encased by the mask that the alpha slips over your mouth once more. The warmth of his gaze beaming down on you spreads across your chest and lights another fire along your skin. 

“Come home, Neteyam.” You whisper softly. His forehead leans against your own, those golden orbs still shimmering with unshed tears. 

“Always, Tanhi.” 

The hours float by in a happily dazed dream afterwards. Neteyam’s touch starved state comes fully into the light as he is constantly keeping a point of contact between you two. It’s obvious that his alpha hindbrain has gone off the wall after being apart for so long and furthermore trying to care for you without going too far. Now that the green light has been given, Neteyam is constantly wrapping his body around your own smaller form till you are almost completely encapsulated by him. 

Truthfully, you have no objections. In fact, even your own instincts push you towards readily accepting and initiating any forms of affectionate touch. It further helps that Neteyam’s skin is cool to the touch in comparison to your own raging feverish skin. 

Within half a day your wellbeing has greatly increased after the constant nurturing of your overprotective alpha, who seems to be constantly slipping water, food, medicine, or mask given air past your lips. Mo’at is greatly pleased when your temperature begins to return back to its former state and there is a greater strength present in your body. Still, she instructs you to lay low for another day as a precaution. 

Neteyam is more than happy to keep you to himself for another day. Watching you come close to the brink of death has his primal urges dialed to eleven. You have to scold him every now and then when his younger brother comes to visit and Neteyam thanks him with an aggressive hiss and tucking you safely into his arms and away from the ‘threat’. 

It’s borderline shocking to see his strong reactions considering the severed bond between the two of you. That is, until you find the truth.

“I admit, it might’ve been selfish Tanhi but I couldn’t bring myself to cut our tie before knowing that I had tried everything possible to get you back.”

He had looked up at you with a guilty composure but after everything the two of you had been through you couldn’t hide your relief and joy in finding out that this bond had still survived the heartache. It also provides a greater explanation to your own body's willingness to melt into him with or without a resolution. Now, though, you are content to let him have his fun babying you for one day more and revill in the renewed connection the two of you share.  

This time when you awake in the newly hung hammock inside of the outpost (Neteyam had used every angle possible to convince the human scientists to let him temporarily take up the space) you’re surprised to find your mate’s skin hot against your own. His thumping heartbeat rickets in your eardrums but instead of rocking you to sleep, the sound sends shivers down your spine. 

Neteyam is blissfully unaware of your consciousness as your own heart starts to speed up. Shifting your leg, it’s a surprise to feel a sticky texture lining the inside of your loincloth. Blood rushes to your cheeks when you realize the source of this substance. Bashfully you’re relieved to see Neteyam is still asleep, allowing your arousal to remain a private humiliation. 

With the cautiousness of a sneaking Palulukan, you attempt rolling off of the hammock and out of his arms to take care of your little problem. It’s only halfway rolling over to your side when the Omatikaya prince shifts and spoons you from behind. All plans are immediately thwarted when his muscular thigh slips between your splayed legs innocently. However, the pressure it incidentally puts against your clit brings forth feelings that are anything but innocent. 

A veiny forearm easily clamps around your waist to pull you back against his chest. The act rubs his thighs against your clothed folds so suddenly, that it brings a whimpered moan from your lips. Breath hitched in your throat, you wait to see if Neteyam stirs. He shows no sign of waking so you try to scoot your heated core away from his thigh slyly. 

Not only are these efforts unrewarded but also bring a tinge of sadness coursing through you. It’s a strange wave of emotion that follows. Arousal quickly windles into full blown desperation within a few heartbeats. The sensations are overpowering, racing through every surface of your body until all that your mind can focus on is the need to be filled by a mate. 

Filled by Neteyam.

“Oh Great Mother.” You curse quietly. 

Your first heat.

A momentous milestone that your parents have talked to you in great lengths about yet still brings nothing to light on the reality of the experience. You’ve had smaller mini episodes of heat, normal in the beginning of adulthood for Na’vi betas, but it’s only a laughable comparison to the clawing desire taking over your body currently. As a beta you figured that your own heats would be miniscule compared to the laborious heats that plague omegas earlier in their years. 

Involuntarily rocking your clothed core against Neteyam’s thigh you now wonder how these Na’vi have ever survived such a demanding lust and lived to tell the tale. And that is what it feels like. Death if not satisfied. Pain if not satiated. 

Embarrassment is thrown out the window in favor of creating a pleasurable friction against your clit. Hardly ever having experienced touching yourself on the rare occasion, you have no idea what to do. The corded muscle of his relaxed thigh feels better than your usual small fingerings drumming against the bundle of nerves, so you continue to rock back in a desperate rhythm. 

The hammock starts to sway softly with your jutting hips. Some movements are rewarded with a spark of pleasure, only to then be absent on the next rock of your hips. Frustration is quick to brew as you can’t seem to find the right angle and pressure against your core. Shiny slick drenches through the thin fabric and onto the alpha’s thigh. It acts as a lubricant for your journey across his skin, allowing a faster pace to be adopted. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, beckoning for a worthy mate to finally fill and claim you properly. It’s an emptiness that you can only compare to the tingling you have experienced after especially long makeout sessions with Neteyam, but it’s worse. So much worse that it brings tears to your eyes. The only relief is found when a lucky thrust finally has the fabric pushed away from your core and lets your small clit peek out and press against his azure skin. 

Now without any barriers, pure ecstasy wracks through your body. It only amplifies when the muscles flex slightly beneath you, giving just the right amount of pressure against your clit. A knot forms and tightens in your stomach, quickly winding until it feels as if it’s about to snap. It feels almost dirty to realize that your slick has now coated the entirety of Neteyam’s thigh all while he is sleeping and yet it lures you further into a state of arousal than you have ever been before. 

Your own thighs clench harshly around Neteyam’s to trap it against your core. A release clear on the horizon, every effort is put into maintaining that delicious sensation of your clit being assaulted against the muscle. Legs shaking and small squeaks erupting from your throat you chase that feeling relentlessly. 

“Cum, Tanhi.” 

Neteyam’s raspy voice pushes you over the edge with a shocked gasp. His rumbling growl of satisfaction seems to pulse through you in sync with the overwhelming sensations of an orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He praises as your body trembles in the afterglow of release. Neteyam chuckles when a simple flex of his thighs has a whimper spilling your lips. Swirling patterns are drawn by the alpha’s fingers along your sides and arms. 

Mental clarity returns in a flash, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. You hide your heated face against his arm underneath your head while groaning in humiliation. 

“Nete.” You whine.

“Hush, baby girl. It’s alright, no reason to get all shy on me now.” He coos while swiping your hair away from your cheek to finally have an unobscured view of your blushing face. “Especially not when you make such pretty noises.” 

The words crumble any wall of resistance against the impending heat. Your body yearns for another release, still screaming at you for not being filled with your alpha’s cock yet. A cock that you can feel hardening beneath Neteyam’s loincloth and poking at your lower back. 

“Neteyam, it really hurts.” 

“I know, Tahini, I know.” He soothes, softly kissing your temple while brushing the strands of hair away. “My poor little star. A bit stronger than you expected, hm?” 

When his thigh finally shifts away from your leaking pussy, despite the strength of your clamped legs, a noise of disappointment escapes you. 

“So much worse. Neteyam please!” It’s hard to say what you are begging for specifically, but the alpha is quick to calm your worries with sweet nothings. Your limbs kick out and try to wind around any of his, subconsciously finding ways  to trap his body closer to yours. 

“If you want help, all you have to do is say, yawne. I know how to take care of my girl.” He turns you by the chin to make direct eye contact with him, a silent second measure to make sure this is truly what you desire. Hesitating is far from your mind as you nod and whine out little pleas.

Satisfied with your consent Neteyam grins and begins to descend down your body. Confusion swirls in your eyes when he situates your legs over his shoulders. The sex talk from your parents may not have been that descriptive but you know enough to realize that his cock is nowhere near your drenched entrance. 

“How does that…” You trail off, head tilted to the side. 

“Just need to get your ready first, Tanhi. Want my baby girl to feel good.” Pointed teeth poke out beneath his lips in his open mouth grin. The pads of his fingers tenderly brush and tease along your outer thighs, slowly making their way to your inner. Tingles of anticipation and pleasure trickle up your body. It boggles you how such a light tracing heightens your lust to new levels. 

“How?” 

His face softens and Neteyam coos at you while tucking a strand behind your ear. 

“Just trust me, little star. I promise you’ll like it.” 

So you do, even when his face lowers to your partly clothed mound. Neteyam’s nose presses against your pussy and he sucks in air like a man on the brink of drowning. Your cheeks set aflame at having his face so close to your special place, something you had never considered before. The rumble of power in his hungry growl, however, washes away any insecurity that would plague your mind. 

“Smell so delicious, Tanhi.” He purrs.

Neteyam’s creates a path of wet kisses along your inner thighs. Careful grips on your knees allow him to maneuver your legs into whatever profane position he desires, easy access for his eager tongue and lips. His saliva and your slick become intermixed along the expanse of skin as he takes his time warming you up. Each time his lips come closer to your folds, you whimper needily. Heated lust entraps every thought you have, wondering how long it will be until the two of you finally become one. 

The first nips at your left inner thigh causes you to jump. His eyes look back up at you as the pointed tips of those canines teasingly scrape against your soft skin. 

“Just a little taste, yawne?” He asks, although the smirk along his lips suggests that it is less of a question and rather a warning. 

“A bite? T-there?” 

Neteyam chuckles at your clueless behavior. It’s been known among Na’vi to leave obvious hickeys and bites along one’s mate’s skin, but you’ve always assumed that to only be in places more visible and less…private. Your tail swishes anxiously as you think of those marks being so close to your heated entrance. 

“Yes, baby girl. A little mark to remember me by, hm?” 

A simple nod of your head is all the permission required for Neteyam to continue. He takes one last breath from the hanging mask before picking a spot on your inner thigh where the flesh is supple and tender, licking and kissing and the area in preparation. When his lips close around the plush skin and begin to suck, it sends tendrils of electricity straight to your core. Without even thinking you moan and grab at his hair. You’re stuck between the urge to push his head away and encourage him to suck harder. 

Once released, the skin is left with a pronounced purple mark. One lick is deposited on the spot before his teeth nip and tug at the skin. You squeal and arch your back dramatically, Neteyam moans darkly he has let it fall from between his teeth and begin to soothe the skin with kisses and licks. The entire act scratches a part of your brain that is primal, satisfied by the apparent claim he leaves for all to see. 

“Much better.” His tone drips with pride. “Thank you, Tanhi.” He kisses your knee in gratitude, as if you have given him some sacred gift, and perhaps for him that is true. 

It’s only now that it occurs to you how many times Neteyam has held back from staking his claim on you the way most alphas do. You vaguely remember the indented mark of his own teeth against his bottom lip that would draw blood, especially after you have shared an intimate moment or he saw another male eyeing you for too long. What you had originally shrugged off as a habit now transforms in your mind as an act of self control. 

Neteyam is quick but deliberate with his handy work of undoing the ties around your tail and hips. He slides the fabric away from your pelvis with an attitude of reverence. Cool air against your slick folds feels like a tickling touch that has your lust spiking dramatically. Burning eyes on your most sensitive area is like gasoline to the flames. 

You attempt to clench your thighs together to protect your dignity, but Neteyam hoists them apart and back on his shoulders sternly. 

“None of that, baby girl. Let me see how pretty you are.” 

And there’s something in that phrase and his undivided attention that makes your toes curl. It becomes blatantly obvious that if he doesn’t hurry up and get on with sticking his cock inside your pussy, you will fall apart at the seams before there is even a chance. 

“Neteyam, I’m ready. Please please I’m so ready.” You ramble, willing your legs apart to prepare easier access. Once he is inside everything will be better, although the thought of your virgin walls stretching around him causes a slight tinge of panic to break loose.

“Mawey, my love. It’s about to get good.” 

However, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface again when you see his face lowering back down. 

“No no, Nete. Enough kisses.” You whine. “I need you inside.”  

His brows push up at that, the corners of his lips perking slightly as if hesitant to fully grin.

“Are you sure, my love? We can still wait if you wa-”

“NO! No more waiting! I’m ready now. I need you right now.” 

He calls your name softly, but with a hint of unyielding sternness that lets you know it is important you listen. Even a beta can sense when the time to obey is present.

“You’re heat is a very powerful thing but also fleeting, Tanhi. I don’t want you to make such a big decision purely because of your primal instincts.” It’s a respectful and considerate gesture but your head is shaking before he is even close to finishing. If this man does not take you now, you’re ready to flip him over and sit on his member, inexperience be damned. 

“It’s not. I’ve been ready for weeks. W-was just waiting to tell you. Take me now, stick it in now.” The ringing in your ears, you realize is actually the accelerated blood thumping along the eardrums from your racing heart. It feels as if the speed will be enough to burst your ribcage open. “I’m ready.”

Neteyam watches as your eyes clench shut and hands scrape against the woven material of the hammock. You’re braced and ready for the pain that will ensue upon penetration. 

“Tahni,” Your eyes slowly peek open to see that the alpha hasn’t moved a muscle. “You love me, don’t you?” 

The question throws you off guard, but the answer comes easily.

“Of course.” 

“And you know that I love you?” 

“Yes Neteyam.” Your hips scoot against the fabric, pussy fluttering as it continues to wait for the incoming sensation. 

“And you trust me?” 

“Always, Nete.” 

The alpha hums happily at your response, muttering out a deep ‘good girl’. 

“Then I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing, baby girl. Trust that your alpha will take care of you.” He tenderly brushes his fingers over your soft stomach. “And trust me enough to say if or when something doesn’t feel good.” 

You nod hazily, keenly aware of the tickling sensation of his touch along your hips. 

“That’s my good girl. Now let me get you ready.”

It’s still confusing when you see his head lower towards your navel once more, but you don’t protest this time. He’s right, you do trust him and he does have far more experience with sex than you by far. Your upturned legs are spread even wider by his broad shoulders as he leans closer and lets the tips of his tongue drag over you from belly button to navel. The saliva line goes down further and further until…oh.

It takes his grip on your hips to keep them pressed against the hammock when his tongue brushes over your clit for the first time. It’s a pleasure that is completely foreign to you. Comparable to the spark of dopamine that comes from your small finger teasing the area and yet completely different in intensity. He draws sensual figure eights along the bundle of nerves several times before swooping down to collect more of your arousal between your folds. 

Neteyam is calculated with his exploring, performing in the way of someone who has crafted their art. When his tongue just barely swipes across your entrance your hands fly down to grasp his braids again. This time, however, the only thought on your mind is keeping him down there. His flat nose nudges at your clit with every swipe of his tongue along your pussy. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You screech as that knot is quickly being tied again in your stomach. 

Neteyam on the other hand becomes focused on another knot, tugging at the twine holding your top in place while still working on your pussy with zealous excitement. With your aid, the dangling top is released and falls to the side. His assault on your pussy pauses for him to trail upwards and lick along your quickly hardening peaks. 

“So pretty, Tanhi.” He murmurs against your right nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Meanwhile his fingers have taken the place of his tongue and expertly rub your clit. “My pretty little star.” 

Gleeful pride twinkles in his eyes as he looks up at you, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your chest. Your small hands grapple at any part of him you can reach, finding purchase on his flexed bicep that holds himself over you. 

The connecting lines of your thoughts are tangled into a ball of messy hunger and desperation. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined such strange things to be so exhilarating. A part of you wonders what else was not included in that sex talk. 

His head is found back between your legs again once your nipples are red and pointed proudly. Neteyam licks, nips and sucks at your pussy like a starved man. Every moan of pleasure releases vibrations that sky rockets through you. It becomes too much to handle. You’ve never felt more fragile in your entire life than when his eyes connect with yours, one eye winking at you, and you fall apart. 

Neteyam’s moan while licking up the white substance pouring from you goes completely unnoticed as the world around you spins and your ears ring. The gravity of this orgasm shakes you to the bones, floodgates of pleasure completely open in your brain. 

Although it feels as if Pandora has slipped out from beneath you, the recovery from this release is swift. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and your pussy hungrily clenches around open air once more. It seems that the monster of a heat inside you grows more insatiable with every second. So when Neteyam covers one finger in the remnants of your juices and starts to prod at your entrance, you’re relieved. 

“You’re doing so good, baby girl. This may feel strange at first, but let me know if it hurts too much.” It’s hard to focus on anything else besides the shiny slick that still coats his chin as he looks at you, but you manage a nod.

It does feel strange at first, your walls incredibly tight. Getting down to the first knuckle is easy but going towards the second proves to feel a little more strained. Regardless, you are happy to find that getting one finger inside is nothing near as painful as expected. Neteyam wiggles the digit and it makes you twitch. Such a strange sensation to be filled but, the longer he twists and curls his finger, the more you find yourself enjoying it. 

“How does that feel, yawne?”

“F-fine…a little strange.” 

Neteyam chuckles.

“I know. My girl’s pretty pussy is so tight.” It’s the pride and adoration in his voice that melts you from the inside out. The muscles of your cunt relax against him as he starts to slide another finger in. 

This stretch takes a little more time, effort, and praise from your alpha but otherwise it’s smooth sailing. He scissors and stretches your walls with due diligence, even as the dark pupils of his eyes overtake the gold color. By the third finger, you’re clawing at his braced forearm and begging for his cock. Neteyam doesn’t immediately give in, reminding you of the importance of being stretched out for him. Frustrated by his noble intentions, you aren’t beyond playing dirty. 

“Alpha please! Need your cock so bad, it hurts. Feel so empty.” The begging turns into sweet tones of whimpers. You can see the shift of his muscles as they tense. His pheromones take on a stronger hue, one that surrounds you like a cloud. Your small hand reaches down for him, fingers grasping in open air. Neteyam is quick to use the hand not half way up your pussy to hold your own, looking up at you. “You said you’d take care of me, alpha.” 

Perhaps in a situation not distorted by desperate lust and the sweet scent of your erotic perfume Neteyam would be tempted to put you over his knees for trying to manipulate him, but the clenching of your velvet walls around his fingers is enough to keep him focused on being balls deep inside of you instead. You can see the moment that his resolve crumbles to ashes, it’s accentuated by a deep growl and narrowed eyes. 

You watch with hungry eyes as Neteyam hastily claws at the strings of his loincloth. It’s a wonder that it doesn’t rip underneath his harsh fingers but it finally falls away and your pupils dilate at the sight. His length stands heavily against his stomach, curving slightly under its own weight. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you observe the freckled stars that glow under the dim light of the room and scatter over his shaft till reaching the tip. A bead of precum is settled there and for the first time, you understand the desire to put your mouth in such sinful places. 

Neteyam preens under your awed attention, his hindbrain purring in delight at seeing his little mate impressed with what he has to offer. His grin widens when he notices your hand hesitantly reaching towards it. You stop, however, before getting to touch. 

“It’s ok, Tanhi. You can touch.” The three fingers leave your entrance with a squelching sound. Neteyam confidently keeps eye contact while licking the digits clean with a soft purr, then that large hand is wrapping around your own and leading you towards his twitching member. 

Even with Neteyam’s guidance, you’re unable to wrap the entirety of his width in your grip, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. In fact, a devious spark lights in his smile as he watches you struggle to hold it. Although, you will probably never admit it outside of heat, you too enjoy the dramatic size difference between the two of you. On more than one occasion you have let your arousal ruin your loincloth just from having his large body completely wrapped around your own, tucking you away so easily. 

A small gasp leaves your throat when his cock twitches in your hand. Neteyam can’t keep his cooing laughter in as he pets affectionately at your hair. He pauses to take a breath from the mask while still smirking. 

“You see what you do to me, baby girl?” 

The taste of iron erupts in your mouth and it is only then that you realize you’ve been crushing your bottom lips between sharp teeth. 

“Is it…uncomfortable?” It feels silly to be so bashful after having his lips along your pussy moments earlier, but you can’t help but keep your voice down to a whisper. You thank the Great Mother for the privacy that the scientists have allowed the two of you over the past few days. There would be no recovery for your dignity if they were to walk in on this scene. Heat or not, being whiny and oblivious is embarrassing. 

“Hm, sometimes my love. If relief is not given.” He guides your thumb to run over the head. “Mostly it gets my thoughts traveling to tempting places. Imagining all the different ways I can have you laid out for me.” The weight of your eyelids seem to increase with every word he speaks. His other hand running up and down your inner thigh only adds to the lust filled daze that has captured you. 

“Wondering what you would taste like.” Being the cheeky alpha that he is, Neteyam doesn’t let the opportunity pass by without reaching a few digits down to his soaked thigh and swirling the substance between his fingers. He simultaneously continues to help you jerk his thick member slowly while sticking the dripping fingers into his mouth profanely. 

“My imagination, however, doesn’t do it justice.” He hums with delight, his pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip to collect any escaping juices. “My thoughts are merely a facade in comparison to the real thing. They can’t do you justice.”

You subconsciously tighten your grip around him at the words, causing a low groan to rumble from his chest. Another trickle of slick coats your entrance. You’re in absolute awe at your body's ability to get close to cumming just from the dark noises and words that spill from your mate’s lips. Not to mention the twitching weight of his cock restrained in your hand. 

“Then stop imagining and come here.” You leap forward and capture his lips with your own. Neteyam’s hum of surprise morphs into a viscous growl as your tongues fight for dominance. The little gasps and groans that slip into the kiss as you pump his cock is electrifying. It’s borderline addicting to see that way the mighty Omatikaya Prince bucks his hips for you. A sense of power to know that you can get him melting like this. 

Never breaking the kiss, Neteyam shuffles your body forward and the two of you start to guide his cock towards your fluttering pussy. All forms of trepidation are gone. Your body screams from every pore that you can take it. You trust these instincts as the thick head of his member prods at your entrance. 

Your lips part against his mouth in a gasp when the head slips past your entrance. Slick walls stretch in ways that you couldn’t have imagined and it feels as if you are about to be split in half. Neteyam continues to kiss and nip at your lips gleefully while carefully continuing to guide himself in inch by inch. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” He coos as your eyes scrunch shut tightly. It feels as if the length will never stop, as if he is about to reach your chest from the inside, but Neteyam is patient. He takes his sweet time checking up on you with every inch and soaking his tone and words with constant praises. It does this trick, scratching at that primal desire to please your alpha. 

When his balls finally meet the curve of your ass, little whimpers rain from you consistently. 

“N-nete, so b-big.” You cry, forehead touching his own as you struggle to take in ragged breaths. He forces you to take a breath from the mask hanging from his neck. 

“I know, baby. So perfect and tight around me.” His own voice shakes slightly. “God damn!” The english phrase sounds like gibberish to your ears but you understand the sentiment nonetheless. 

Settled there to let you adjust, your head lolls to his shoulder.  When his cock twitches, you clamp your teeth down on his exposed shoulder to stabilize yourself. Neteyam encourages the oral fixation through  hissed words of praise. Tears spill from your eyes but it’s hard to say what the source of your crying is. The stretch is uncomfortable but you can’t deny the certain tinge of pleasure that courses through you when a slight shift reminds you of how full your pussy is. Eventually, your heat takes the edge off, rewarding your ability to secure a mate with a pulsing clit and dripping entrance. 

It takes a moment to realize that Neteyam is calling your name, you eventually snap out of it when his lips murmur it straight into your flicking ears. 

“Hand me your kuru, baby.” Your hands obey on their own accord. “Want you to understand how good you feel, Tanhi. How happy you make me.”

When those dancing tendrils wrap securely around one another, your eyes go from sleepy slits to dilated pupils of awe. It never becomes old being able to feel Neteyam so closely. To feel his breath and strength. To have his own emotions coalesce with yours. A vulnerable certainty of how he is feeling. In this state, neither of you can hide. There is no deceit. There are no polite formalities. You both have direct access to the other’s soul.

This time, a new current of sensation travels through the bond. It sparks into growing forms of ecstasy that makes you groan. It’s a strange thing to accept, but you can feel your own tights walls secured around him. Hugging him so tightly in the warmth of your cunt, velvety texture caressing him with every shift. Underneath that pleasure also grows an unyielding lust that pricks at his self control with every passing second. His hindbrain is screaming at him to move. To claim. To fill your womb with his seed until it drips out from you. 

It’s better than if the words had come from his own lips. It sets you into a feral need to complete these fantasies. 

“Can you feel me, baby girl?” His arms are securely wrapped around your middle to keep you tight against him. 

“Yes Nete, feel all of you. Need all of you. W-want you to move.” The ability to form coherent sentences starts to slip between your fingers. Neteyam, however, requires no further instruction. Your back hits the hammock once more as his strong grip clasps around the soft flesh of your hips. The mask is settled over your lips by the alpha before he continues. 

Slowly, but surely, he draws out with smooth and continuous thrusts. Your cunt clenches around him almost painfully, as if to keep him locked there. Once the tip is just barely past your entrance he starts to slide back in smoothly. The prolonged thrusts eventually angle in a way that hits a bundle of nerves inside you that has never been explored by you before. Neteyam moans in sync with you as he can feel your own pleasure every time the head of his cock rubs at the rosy spot. 

It spurs him forward. You don’t have to explicitly tell him to go faster because he can feel it straight through the bond. It allows you to focus the energy you have left on gripping his shoulders for dear life. A brutal rhythm begins to take place, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh Eywa!” You screech. The obscene noises of skin slapping fills the room along with Neteyam’s loosed growls and grunts. 

“That’s not my name, Tanhi.” The alpha teases, but you can feel the aching desire he has to hear his own name upon your lips. To have the auditory satisfaction of knowing he is pleasing his little mate.

“N-neteyam oh haa Nete!” 

His precision at hitting your g spot increases. Neteyam learns your body with an impressive speed. One hand comes up to palm and tease your breasts in his large hand. His eyes switching back and forth between watching his cock disappear inside of you and marveling at the nipple hardening between his pinched fingers. 

Everything starts to become a blur for you. The origins of sounds are unknown. Several times you are surprised to find that the high pitched screams are coming from your own throat. Your body shakes and trembles as if it is about to shatter into a million pieces. And that is what you come to truly believe as it overwhelms your senses. It is so consuming and new that you start to sputter little pleas of mercy to your mate, convinced that you truly will die from this overload of sensations. 

“It’s alright, Tanhi. You’re alright. Just let go for me. Let it all go.” 

Your hair tangles in the woven material of the hammock as you shake your head. Neteyam thrusts become ragged and less coordinated but he slips a hand down to fondle at your clit. You scream and arch, cumming harder than ever before. Neteyam is less than a second behind you, feeling the effects of your orgasm through the bond. Warm ropes of seeds paint your inner walls. 

The first normal sense that comes to you is the feeling of Neteyam’s heavy and warm body collapsed on top of yours. Heated breath tickles at your neck, intermittent with sweet kisses and nonsense murmurs. You let yourself bask in the afterglow. Your body is sore and motionless, but luckily Neteyam takes over. Only a tiny sound comes from you when he slips out.

“Come here, tanhi.” Your boneless body is pulled to lay on top of him. Soothing affection swims across the bond when you nuzzle your face against his chest. The swing of the hammock and rhythm of his heartbeat is quickly luring you to sleep. 

Neteyam grabs your hand and kisses it sweetly. You can vaguely make out the sound of his voice, but the words are like garbled noises which never compute in your brain. It’s hard to say whether or not it’s english or if you just can’t understand simple words now in your fucked out state. Still, you like the way it makes his chest rumble. 

“Neteyam.” The rumble stops, tail flickering as he waits patiently. 

“I see you.” Your words are barely more than a whisper in the stuffy room but they ring true. He gently places the breathing mask over your lips again before your eyes close. 

“You’re all I see, little star.” 

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[shadowshrike]

Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

[roseapov]

Empress

Claude de Alger Obelia x F!Reader

Tw: sexual themes, obsession, implied kidnapping, arranged marriage and pregnancy

! Sexual themes ! 13+ !

Povtober 2023, Day 14 [Masterlist]

You, a second-in-line royal, neglected by your family. The audacity of your family to do so, as they were ruling over a small kingdom, completely insignificant with the comparison to the whole continent.

Your kingdom is only still standing cause of one condition made by the Obelian Empire. As long as you were to be engaged and later married to the Obelian Emperor, your country will continue to stand strong, with the help of a powerful empire.

However if the conditions were to be broken off, everyone in your land would suffer a great loss, being led to a war with a completely crushing opponent, that would weep out your homeland in a week, if they so desired.

And yet you still got mistreated, even as a peace keeper. One day, when you had enough of it, you run away, or at least planned to. Your escape plan seemed decent with a big chance for success, as your wing of the castle was almost empty, with most of the servants in your parents and older sibling side.

On the same day the said emperor came to your castle to talk about the marriage details. When you tried to sneak off through the royal gardens, you got stopped by some unknown man with blonde hair and blue jeweled eyes.

Tossing from side to side, desperately trying to run away from his grasp, chanting like a mantra that you wanted to leave this place forever. Eventually you became tired and with this man unrelenting grip, falling asleep in his arms.

The next moment you wake up, you're in bed with that mysterious man from the last night, being dangerously close to each other.

Later on you found out, you were taken to the Obelian Empire as a future empress, and the man you woke up to was the emperor.

And... You don't want to know what happened to your kingdom.. That's the safest option to choose!

Ever since your arrival you finally got treated like a real royalty, being drowned by all that valuables and attentiveness of the servants and guards.

The man, whose name you learned to be Claude, never really left your side ever since. You had a hard time warming up to him, even when he took you away from your family, his cold glare scaring you endlessly.

Shortly after your arrival, the marriage and coronation came shortly after. People welcoming you with open arms and a great amount of hope, that you will be able to tame their ruler.

Claude was very attentive to you, seeing your every little discomfort, swiftly disposing of its source. Example?

When you didn't like the food the chef cooked, and Claude ordering to execute him. That's the exact part when you step in, pleading him to spare this poor soul. To everyone's surprise he indeed listened to you and left this person alive.

From that day onward you earned the utmost respect and adoration from your subjects, being known for your benevolence towards anyone, no matter their status but also the ability to calm down the tyrant emperor.

But after a while of your reign with Claude came the question of the children. As a married man Claude has slayed all of his concubines, just for you, which left you scared and speechless, to discard someone's life so easily, how.. vicious.

As a ruler without concubines and children, he had to, well.. make some. Preferably with the empress, but some other women would do the thing too, no they wouldn't, he killed everyone seconds after these words left their mouths.

The fact that they had the audacity to suggest him making future heirs with someone else? Truly outrageous, they met an end they deserved.

To make all that nonsense quiet you don't have a choice and decide with your husband that it is time to make a royal heir. You're doing that only because it's a part of your royal duties, but don't worry your husband knows it and just pretends that you want it as much as he does.

During this time, he would constantly cling to you and if it were for him, you wouldn't need to stand up from the bed at all, which you rarely did anyway.

He threatened everyone with death if you were to leave your shared bedroom.

He greatly enjoyed your baby making process, taking in all of you. Your expression and sounds you made, he has it all detaily memorized.

Being even more intoxicated with you, and when you tried to muffle your moans, he got even harsher, considering it disrespecting the emperor and denying his wishes.

He became ruthless, telling you how lucky you are that he favors you, that anyone else in your place would be already dead. You should be thankful you haven't met this horrible end, and yet you still have the audacity to disobey him, truly bold of you, Empress.

Let him put you in your place, always beneath him.

If you do get pregnant, you'll forget what it was like to have a moment for yourself. Now you're under the watching gaze of Claude as he doesn't let you do anything at all. While always standing right by your side, watching you as your belly gets rounder with every passing week.

That child will be the next ruler of the Obelian Empire, it will be yours child, yours and his.

A living proof that you decided was forced to make love with him, a living proof that you were all his and he all yours, till the end of the time, saved in the history for all to read.

I went all out on this one which is weird since I had 0 thoughts after my sickness, but I'm not complaining🤭 This came out mostly 'you' centered, so I'm sorry to everyone who didn't liked that, it was an accident🙏 I tried making it more Claude centered by making this fic longer, to conceal the 'you' centered part, but I don't know how well I pulled that off 👀 Feedback is greatly appreciated💛

~roseapov

#wmmap #who made me a princess #claude #claude de alger obelia #manhwa #wmmap manhwa #roseapov #povtoberroseapov #povtoberroseapov23 #povtober2023 #povtober23 #povtoberroseapov2023 #povtober roseapov #povtober roseapov2023 #povtober roseapov23 #yandere #obsession #yandere claude #yandere claude de alger obelia #new writers society #new writer boost #obsessed #claude x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #yandere claude x reader #yandere claude de alger obelia x reader #obelia empire #obelian empire #tw yandere #tw obsessive behavior

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

Viserys Targaryen Rant Part 2

Rhaenyra, the King’s Heir

After episode eight of House of the Dragon aired, there were a lot of people cheering on Viserys for his support of Rhaenyra’s claim.

I will admit, the scene was heartwarming to me at first,- a frail old man on the brink of death, getting up solely to defend his daughter in front of a court that may have had grievances with her being a female-heir. That kind of fatherly support, means a lot in a misogynistic society like Westeros. But, what does that moment of support truly mean for a man that had not performed his duties as a father?

Let us refer back to episode one. This scene in particular:

Aemma expresses to Viserys that she does not wish to have another pregnancy after the birth of the child she’s pregnant with.

According to Fire and Blood, Viserys and Aemma married when she was eleven years old. Their marriage was not consummated until two years later, when Aemma had flowered. Aemma in both Fire and Blood and House of the Dragon would go on to suffer multiple miscarriages, that some of Maesters suspected were due to her being bed too young.

Refocusing on the scene above, Aemma tells Viserys that Rhaenyra suspects that the unborn child might be a girl. Viserys is insistent that it is a boy.

In episode one, Rhaenyra was fifteen years old. If she were male, Viserys would have started preparing her as his heir,- taking her to council meetings, send her as a messenger, etc. But he doesn’t, because he wanted a male heir. He spent almost two decades brutalizing his wife and ultimately killing her for a son. He spent almost two decades neglecting his daughter and putting her aside because he wanted a son.

Aegon, Second of his Name

In the third episode of House of the Dragon, we meet Aegon, the first child between Alicent and Viserys.

For a majority of the episode, Aegon is being celebrated as it’s his name day, and he’s the king’s first born son. The King now having son would usually signal a change in succession, since for most of Westeros, sons inherit over daughters. However, by the end of the episode, Viserys’ position does not change: Rhaenyra is his rightful heir.

So what happens to Aegon, the long-awaited son?

Let’s look at some word from the screenwriter, Ryan Condal:

"Aegon is a great example of neglect and indulgence," Condal says. "This is the medieval version of the millionaire's prodigal son. His mother was 15, and his father never paid any attention to him. His father deeply, deeply loved Aemma and Rhaenyra and was [only] having [more] kids to carry on the line. He really didn't want Aegon — he wanted Baelon, the son that killed his first wife."

When we first meet Aegon he was being celebrated. After hoping for a boy for years, Viserys finally got a male heir.

We don’t get any scenes of his early childhood but we see Aegon again when he’s a teenager. He’s disinterested in most things, he’s blunt, he teases, he masturbates by the window sill, but most of all, he’s disinterested and lackadaisical.

After another time skip, we see Aegon again. He’s still disinterested in most things, he drinks, he’s a rapist, and is overall not really a good person.

Within the fandom, most of the blame for the way Aegon has turned out has been directed to Alicent.

Now, Alicent being a child-bride does not excuse all of her actions, but it does explain a lot of them.

In scene where Alicent speaks with Dyana, I interpreted her reaction as one filled with shame, frustration and disappointment. All of the traits I used to describe Aegon, can be applied to Viserys. Aegon is his father’s mirror and Alicent is the only one who is trying to break it. Immediately after meeting with Dyana, she confronts Aegon, and disowns him(well,not really). Were her methods rash? Yes, it was rash and abusive, but who else was checking him? Where was Viserys during his formative years to correct this behavior?

I do not condone any of his actions, but I grieve the person Aegon could’ve been if Viserys had not been his father.

Aemond, the Kinslayer

I’d reckon that Aemond’s birth wasn’t quite the spectacle that Aegon’s was, he’s the second son, who inherits nothing.

When we first meet Aemond, he’s miserable. He has a very low self esteem mostly due to all of his peers having dragon, while he doesn’t. His father, Viserys was the last mount of Balerion, the Black Dread. Balerion represents the strength and history of House Targaryen in Westeros. He’s the last dragon to have come from Old Valyria, and his first rider was the man who united Westeros under one crown, Aegon the Conqueror. Viserys took Balerion on one ride, and the old dragon died shortly after. He spent all of his rule as a Targaryen king without a dragon. We get no indication that he had negative feelings about not being a dragon rider, in fact, he finds power in the dreams and prophecies of Targaryens and Old Valyria, than the man power of dragons. Had he been around to salvage any feelings of unworthiness Aemond felt when his egg didn’t hatch, or when the riderless dragons in the dragon pit rejected him, Aemond would’ve been less resentful about not having one.

So in this scene here, where he claims Vhagar, and rides her for the first time, it’s a moment of legitimacy for him. He’s a Targaryen, with a dragon. He fits in with his siblings and his nephews, finally.

His claiming of Vhagar came with a price, his eye. I’m not going to delve into the mishap that took place between him, the Dragon twins and the Strong boys, because they were children. Baela and Rhaena had all right to be angry about Aemond claiming Vhagar, Luke had all right to defend his brother, Aemond had all right to react to their insults. Was he a bit insensitive ? Yes, but he’s a kid. They’re all children. They do not have the same awareness and consideration adults should have.

The aftermath of that scene is a confrontation between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

There has been a lot of discourse about this scene in particular, but Emma D’arcy and Olivia Cooke’s is the one I resonate with the most :

ED: It’s such an interesting scene, right? My sympathy is fully with Alicent. On the page I was like, Well, she’s fucking right.

OC: Someone’s lost an eye.

ED: Someone’s lost an eye! I’m so amazed every time Paddy basically tells you to let it go. Simultaneously, Rhaenyra is playing quite a basic game: Lie hard, do not back down, and weaponize this word “treason.”

OC: Alicent’s being gaslit massively and she fucking explodes. In friendships or relationships, when it gets to the point where you feel you’re going mad, there’s no route out other than complete volcanic annihilation.

ED: There is something resentfully delicious in it for Rhaenyra, in that she so rarely gets definitively the backing of her father. Early on, she loses both her best friend and her father because they get married. These moments where she gets publicly chosen, and chosen instead of you — there’s a really violent quality of vengeance for her.

No Alicent should not have asked for a five year old’s eye. But her son, has just lost one. And his father, is more focused on the fact that his grandchildren were called bastards. Now I’m not discounting the fact that Westeros discriminates against bastards, but that could have been addressed afterwards. Viserys spent the entire scene promising his court that they’d lose a tongue for even uttering a word about his grandsons, while his son is sitting in a chair with his eye in front him on a plate. Aemond now has to learn how to maneuver around with one of his five senses damaged. (Honestly, I think a few scenes with Aemond struggling a bit with this would’ve been great).

If Viserys had just acknowledged Aemond’s detriment in that scene, maybe give him some reassurance, comfort, literally anything, he wouldn’t have remained vengeful years after the incident.

Helaena, the Dragon Dreamer

The parenting of Helaena is the best representation of Viserys and Alicent’s dynamics with their kids,- Alicent struggling to connect with her child, while Viserys the parent who would’ve had a better shot at connection is nowhere to be found.

Helaena has correctly predicted several events in House of the Dragon so far, the loss of Aemond’s eye being the price of his dragon, Meleys bursting from beneath the dragon pit, and the Dance of the Dragons. The thing is, no one in universe is paying her any mind. The weight of prophecies in ASOIAF is a topic that George likes to explore, and he’s given us a few tragic characters like Rhaegar, who met their doom by interpreting a prophecy ‘incorrectly’.

Helaena is a dragon dreamer. She’s also a dragon rider, but we have no scenes with her on Dreamfyre. She represents the more mystical part of House Targaryen, as she possesses the power that prevented them from the Doom. Yet her father, who is a deeply interested in these aspects of being Targaryen, doesn’t speak to her about these things.

If Viserys had made an attempt to understand or simply bond with his daughter, none of the atrocities his family faced would have happened the way it did.

My sympathy for Team Green stems from the fact that literally every single one of them would’ve been way better people if not for Viserys.

#no daeron because he basically doesn’t exist yet #anti viserys i targaryen #anti viserys targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd alicent #alicent hightower #queen helaena #helaena the dreamer #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #rhaenyra targeryan #princess rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra

[paranormalactivity5]

♡Dirty laundry ♡

Warnings: PWP, Mdom/Fsub, oral sex (both receiving), spit, dacryphilia degrading, squirting, slapping, reader is bi/pan but it’s barely mentioned

A/N: I had to include the twd:towl reference because Daddy Rick and Mommy Michonne made me 

WC: 2.5k

See gojo was usually an amazing husband, hot, funny, charismatic, and attentive, but of course, he has his faults, one of which being, he hates doing laundry, which pans out just amazing because you also hate doing laundry.  You had a deal, you cooked and cleaned the bathrooms, he did dishes and laundry, now he was good at the first part, granted he never does it without a playful water fight, but he would still do everything to get out of doing laundry. when you realized that all the fancy late-night dinners after work and beautiful new clothes were distracting you, you had just got off early and decided to go home to cook satoru a nice dinner and you spilled some oil on your shirt so you went into your room to change, and then you saw it. I mean you had definitely seen your bedroom within the past week but the view was always crowded by lust or fatigue so you hadn’t saw it and when you did, you could have killed him. Clothes that had been thrown across the room on hot nights had not been picked up as you thought, just stuffed in a corner. He arrived home from work, immediately comforted by the smell of your cooking, but  when he sees the look on your face he knows he’s been caught. Like he always does, he tried to talk his way out of it, which he is usually successful in, but not this time. When that failed he did the next best thing he could think of, he tried to use his body to get out of it, but oh was that a bad idea, because it gave you the perfect one.  Just as he began to place open mouth kisses on your neck, muttering smooth apologies, it hit you, what could you do to truly make satoru gojo understand that you were serious? What would truly get it through his thick skull? Sex ban.  When satoru heard that string of words leave your mouth he thought the world was going to end, don’t get me wrong satoru loves you for every part of you, your face, your mind, your soul, but he also really loved your body. He spent the next 3 hours doing every possible chore he could think of to no avail. 

It had been 3 days since the ban started, and it wasn’t only affecting satoru, as much as you hate to admit it you need him just as bad as he needs you, and he knew that. He wasn’t gunna be the only one suffering throughout this ban he had decided, intentionally wearing as little as possible, sometimes opting for nothing, doing pull ups on the bar he installed a few months ago. It was now Sunday and you were ready to burst at the seam from built up tension, the premier episode of “The Ones Who Live” not helping, currently texting your best friend Karmen about how delicious Rick looked in that all black outfit and harness, your mind wandering to the image of satoru wearing those things. Just as the episode ended satoru walked into the room, he figured it was better to wait till your show was over. He dropped to his knees in front of your place on the couch. “Please my love, I’m sorry, I can’t take not touching you, not being inside you” He leaned in as he said the last part, you could feel his hot breath on your thigh. after a 3 day ban those words sounded like the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. The thing is, you were waiting for this moment, you had forgiven satoru the first night when he did every chore in the house, but you wanted to see him all worked up, you knew the pounding you would get when you finally gave in would make it all worth it. All your resolve crumbled immediately and you practically dove into him, teeth clashing in the roughness of the kiss, his hands gripped your waist, one reaching down to grab the swell of your legging clad ass and squeeze. Your hands rub the softness of his slightly grown out undercut, then they trail down the nape of his neck; it never failed to send electricity through his body, no matter how many times you did it

He dove forward, pushing you back onto the couch and crawling on top of you. The room filled with sounds of sloppy, needy kissing. His hand trailed down your body, making sure to take his time and show his love for your tits. He drug the tips of his fingers against your sides, sending shivers down your spine. Once his hand finally reached the hem of your leggings it stopped there for a second, and just the tips of his fingers broke past the hem and ran back and forth across your abdomen. Even when he was as worked up as he is, he would never miss a chance to tease you; you had a feeling there would be a lot of that as payback for putting him on this ban. He lead open mouthed kisses down your navel and onto the tops of your breasts.

He used his unoccupied hand to pull down the top of your tank top, which you of course had gone braless under. As your tits fell out his mouth immediately attached to your nipple “So beautiful baby. Fucin’ perfect” he mumbled, barely understandable with his mouth full of your tit. His other hand finally broke past the hem of your leggings and inched down till he reached your cunt, sopping with need for him. His long nimble fingers trailed light circles on your throbbing clit  then dipping down to your weeping hole, and then back up, and then down, he continued this action for far too long in your opinion. Your head thrown back letting out whines and gasps “Please ‘toru….” you pathetically whine out. He releases his mouth from your nipple “Please what baby? Come on, you’re a good smart girl, and good smart girls use their words. So, what is it? Please what?” The sound of his voice when he says this makes you want him even more. So as embarrassing as it is, you comply. “You ‘toru…need you” you whine out, god if anyone heard this they’d think you were some pathetic slut; which, you were. Satorus pathetic slut. “Gunna have to be more specific honey…what do you want from me? Where do you want it?” He was always this way, he always made you say what you wanted from him, how bad you wanted him. You knew that this wasn’t just sexual, you knew that you saying how badly you wanted him healed his insecurities that he may not be enough for you. “Your hands, your mouth” “and where do you want them? You want them here?” As he runs his hand along your inner thigh. Fucking tease. “Want  ‘em on my pussy ‘toru” You all but pout when you say it, at this point you were sick of the games, you needed him.

When he heard this a smirk immediately splayed across his mouth. “atta girl” You were thinking about how you wanted to kiss slap that smirk right off of his face until he finally gave in and started rubbing tight circles on your clit, and his mouth met where you needed him most. You were letting out moans of pure lust, gripping and pulling his hair, in turn causing him to moan into your pussy, sending the vibrations through your body. Your legs begin to pull in, wrapping around his head. Before you can get too far in this action, his veiny hand grips your thigh holding it back. He’s still lapping and sucking at your pussy, going between tounge-fucking you and sucking on your pretty, sensitive clit, and you can feel the band in your abdomen beginning to tighten. Then he sucks your clit all while using his tongue to trace figure eights around it, and that’s what causes that tightening band to snap. White spots cloud your vision, and your back arches, your grip on his hair does not lessen, neither do the efforts of his mouth. At this point, you don’t know whether to push him away or pull him in. Before you can decide he rises, his face glistening in your slick, god, he always looked like an angel like this, when doing the most sinful things. 

He climbs back up and kisses you hard, you can taste yourself on him; you understand why he loves the taste so much. You begin to push yourself up and now he is below you on the couch, with you in his lap. You suckle onto his jawline, sure to leave marks tomorrow, which satoru loved, he would say you were “marking your territory” (that joke turned you on more than you would like to admit). You ran your hands down his rock hard chest, the years of jujutsu training serving him well, you stop for a second to play with his hard nipple, He'd never admit how sensitive his nipples were. Your hand kept going down rubbing against his abs, you swear you could ride just them, you might just try, but that’ll have to wait, you have one thing on your mind right now, to please your your man. You toy with the strings of his sweatpants, it’s then that you notice the wet pre-cum stain on the front, he must have been grinding into the couch while he pleased you. now you were going to return the favor. You slip off the edge of the couch and drop to your knees in front of him.

“I was so mean to you, ‘toru, lemme make it up to you?” You look up at him with doe eyes “Please” he whimpers out and spreads his thighs. You pull his sweats down just enough to free his aching cock, a long shaft, not much darker than his creamy skin tone, a pinkish purpleish mushroom head, and trimmed white hairs on the base. You place a small kiss on the tip and then start tracing your tongue along his slit. He lets out a gasp as soon as your mouth makes contact with him, his hips involuntarily buck up. You begin to take more of him into your mouth, eventually taking him to the hilt, feeling the burn in your throat, and your eyes begin to water, but you fight through. You bring a hand up to lightly massage his heavy balls and start bobbing your head up and down. He moans at the action but still, you know what would really make it up to him. You pull back a bit, take his hand in your own, and place it on the back of your head, for the first time, his head comes forward and he looks at you for confirmation, you nod to the best of your ability. He immediately begins bucking his hips, and moving your head back and forth, starting off slow. As your throat loosens and adjusts to the intrusion he speeds up his pace, truly fucking your face now. “fuck…so pretty like this…letting me use that slutty mouth for whatever I please” You moan at his words, the vibration triggering a groan from him. Just as you begin to feel him get closer, he pulls you off. “Nuh uh, my first load in three days is going in your pussy”

He easily picks you up, and you wrap your arms around his waist and keep sucking hickeys into his collarbones as he Carries you up to your shared bedroom. 

Once you make it into the room and past another load of undone laundry he lays you down on the bed, he pulls your leggings off, and sheds himself of his sweatpants. He rests your legs on his shoulders and places a quick kiss on your ankle. He begins to rub his fat cock between your wet folds, you’re practically dripping for him. “Fuck such a perfect pussy…look at her trying to suck me in. I knew you were dying without me, sluts like you can’t go that long without getting fucked” Even thought you could tell he wanted you just as bad, the arousal clear in his voice. “Please ‘toru….put it in, please fuck me” That's all it takes for him to finally push himself inside you, and you feel the beautiful burn of him stretching you out. He lets out an almost pornographic moan when he’s finally inside you, he’ll never get over the way your velvety walls feel wrapped around him.

He sets a fast pace of fucking you that had your eyes rolling back in your head. “Yeah? You like that?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. You try to answer him anyway, but you’re too fucked out to even think so all that comes out is a small “y” sound between moans. Tears begin to prick in your eyes from how good he’s fucking you, as soon as he notices this it adds fuel to the fire inside him. “Aww, you cryin’? Huh? Cryin’ for my cock?” You can only moan and whine in response. He pulls out, but before you can even complain about the emptiness, he’s got you flipped on your stomach, pulling you up into doggy, pressing your back down into a deep arch, and filling you up again. He’s fucking into you relentlessly, abusing that sensitive spot inside you. He slaps your ass, watching it jigglr from the impact then reaches forward and wraps his hand around your throat, applying pressure to your pulse points. “Open.” He orders, and you open. He lets out a cocky chuckle “Look at you, such a cock drunk slut, don’t even question me.” And as soon as he’s done speaking a fat glob of spit falls from his lips to your tongue. The second it hits your tongue you moan and your pussy clenches, this doesn't go unnoticed by satoru. “Yeah? Felt your pussy clench down on me, like being treated like a worthless whore? Yeah, I know you do” Your fists ball, white knuckling the sheets and an unfamiliar feeling begins forming in your abdomen.

The feeling is foreign but it’s not a bad one so you let it keep developing, plus you can feel satoru getting closer, his thrusts getting sloppier, and you can practically feel him throbbing inside you. As he keeps bullying into you, the feeling in your abdomen gets stronger and stronger until it snaps. You could swear you passed out for a second, liquid gushing from between your legs, your whole body shaking. You can hear satoru letting out a string of curses as he reaches his peak as well, the image of you and the feel of your perfect pussy clenching down on him sending him over the edge. He bottoms out, releasing his load, as his balls contract and he fills you to the brim. “Shit. Holy fuck that was hot, you’re doing that again” Oh yeah, you were in for it tonight

#paranormalactivity5 #fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #dom gojo

[inbarfink]

It’s truly hard to overstate just how much Spamton’s mere existence is a nightmare for himself. Like, arguably the life of everyone in the Deltarune universe, and especially the Darkners, is an existential nightmare. Spamton’s just on a whole other level. This is Advanced Existential Nightmare.

Cause yeah, on some level it’s always kinda depressing to think about the idea that all Darkners are bound to the fact that they are created from inanimate objects and the emotions Lightners associate with them. That this forms some sort of irrevocable inner essence and Purpose they can never change, even if they truly wanted to be something else. No one can choose who they are in this world and so on.

But like, at least most of the other Darkners we met can get some sort of contentment from following the role they have been given. Tasque Manager loves managing things (and Tasques), Lancer is a playing card who ultimately just wants to play around and have fun, Queen seems to truly love being a useful computer who can supply Lightners with endless hours of entertainment and knowledge in her own egoist way. Even King’s initial angst was based around no longer being able to fulfill his purpose.

But Spamton… as the living embodiment of Spam Mail, he was created with the desires of your typical spam-mail; advertising and/or scamming people. And he was created to be obsessed with the things that your typical Spam Mail talks about; success, fortune, status and [[BIG SHOT]]. But he was also created to be utterly terrible at accomplishing these things.

He’s Spam Mail, Spam Mail is weird, obviously scammy and generally gets ignored or thrown away. And no matter how much Spamton wants or how hard he tries, by the basic nature of his being, he can never actually be good at this. And he also can’t, like, understand that maybe salesmanship isn’t his thing and take up macramé or something. Because that obsession is also part of his basic nature. Spamton’s basic nature is to be forever frustrated, desperate and miserable.

And that’s exactly why he’s the first Darkner we’ve seen who’s truly set on cutting his puppet-strings. I think that a lot of the ‘Freedom’ he wants is freedom from that utterly miserable lot in life. To longer be bound by the rules of Being Spamton. On some level it’s probably about breaking the Rule of Nature that means he has to be a failure, that he can’t truly become a [[BIG SHOT]] on his own. He wants to overthrow God so he can get the financial success that feels he deserves.

(I know some people are angry at the Mysterious Voice on the Phone for abandoning Spamton, but I do wonder if it wasn’t basically inevitable. That the Mysterious Voice, regardless of what they wanted, could simply not subvert Spamton’s Failure-ness forever)

And that’s kinda tragic cause it’s shows that even when trying to break away, he’s still doing so through the lenses of the existential curse that’s causing him so much suffering. To be free is to get [[BIG]], and the only way to get [[BIG]] is by scamming and tricking and manipulating. Because as long as he’s Spamton, those are really the only things he can do.

But on some level, I think, he might also want to be free of that. Maybe it started as wanting to break away from the ‘script’ that means he’s bound to be a failure - but with time, I think he also grew to want to want different things. It’s clear Spamton is very distressed about losing the friendship of the Addisons and Swatch. He considers his own loneliness as one of the most defining traits of his own existence (he always start projecting on Kris on the basis of both of them being lonely). But he literally can’t put his obsessive quest for success aside and focus on his relationships. He literally can’t.

Outside of, I guess, the Pacifist ending to his NEO fight. That’s the one point where Spamton was able to put his ambitions aside for the sake of friendships.

If only for a moment.

But however brief it was, it still feel like it meant something to Spamton.

#deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #spamton deltarune #deltarune meta

[sh1-n0bu]

Dear Judal/Judar, (From Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic),

Hello! How are you doing these days? I've heard from a source that you've been busy with your duties lately. It's not easy being a Magi, from what a little boy with blue hair told me.

Do you still take time to care for yourself, such as doing your makeup and hair? I remember it being really pretty the last time I saw it, though, my memory might not be the best. Years of working yourself as a slave in the slave trade does that for you, I suppose.

Right, the reason I'm writing this letter. Today is actually my last day of being a slave. I wish I could say that I'm finally being freed from my shackles from all these years, but that isn't the case.

Unfortunately, I will be killed tomorrow for the death of my master.

I'm writing this letter from my cell while waiting for the executioners to take me away, to the person I value the most. I still can't think of a reason why you helped me that day when I was attacked by those bandits. Perhaps it was for your own benefit, or you simply did it out of boredom. That seems like something you would do.

Or the occasional nights where you visited my barren room to accompany me. Those visits might've been small to you, but to me, they were more precious than any gold or gems I've seen. You made life feel like it was worth living a little longer in.

I may have only met you sparingly, but you've given me advice and wisdom that helped push me forward, to keep striving for what I wanted. Even if it was selfish.

In the end, all I truly wanted was you.

Sincerely, a friend.

I hope this letter finds its way to you, even after I pass.

𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙪’𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚!

to: judar from magi

being a magi was, in all honesty, fucking boring. at least, to someone like judar.

he hated the constant bows and kneeling, the constant titles, names that are bestowed upon him. the duties of a magi, of having to choose a king so that one day, his chosen king would actually become a successful one rather than some pathetic excuse of a ruler. don’t even get him started on the annoying meetings, rituals, magoi training, diplomatic reasonings and travelings. ugh. at least he can run away from those boring, long, arduous meeting to have some fun in the gardens.

by fun, the arrogant magi meant slacking off as he bites into another random peach he stole from the kitchen on the way there. or even by running away from the castle’s depressing walls to see what was different on the outside world since the last time he visited. he could also hear some of those pathetic elder magicians cry out as they chase after him in a measly attempt to bring him back to his "duties" as they call it. duties, his ass. all the magi saw were bunch of papers, scrolls and more boring meetings with diplomats. he wanted to have some fun, y'know?!

it was during one of those usual running away from duty moment when he saw something that barely managed to pique his interest. a slave, judging by the chains keeping their feet together to not let them run away, but somehow protecting a kid as they face off against a bunch of hooligans looking to make names for themselves. judging by the lack of magoi fluttering around the adult slave, they weren't a magician, a dungeon capturer, a household vessel user nor even a fanalis. the slave was just some random human who was acting as a hero to protect the kid covering behind them.

judar should have left when the first punch landed and yet something compelled him to stay. to watch how the common, unlucky folk suffer while he goes on about his day and night like nothing is out of place within the safety and comfort of the palace walls. watch as how even when threatened with the most vile and terrifying actions imaginable against them, the human persists to keep a random child safe.

to intervene when the third punch landed.

the dark magi doesn’t know what compelled him to act out or to protect this random slave and a homeless child. they meant nothing to him, just some random poor folk that he saw. yet something felt weird. seeing how the unlucky get treated simply for being born unlucky caused him to stay and to protect them when they could provide him absolutely nothing. not even a fickle of entertainment. magis are the ones who have stayed at the top of the food chain since the beginning of time and will continue to do so. the magois and rukh of the world and people are at their disposal, ready to carry out their command at any given moment.

yet here judar was, protecting some two strangers whose rukhs barely flickered enough to cause some color. such fickle beings, such unlucky creatures and yet here he was… here he was reaching a hand out to help them on their feet, accompanied with a “are you two alright?”. what has gotten into him all of a sudden? whatever it was, it didn’t go away after saving their lives. no, it stayed and lingered on forcing him to do the same.

since there was nothing else to give the twisted magi some sort of entertainment at the time, he decided to continue to stay with the pair. and he continued to do so even at the following days when he no longer needed to save them. just his presence hovering around the pair was enough to shoo away any other assholes that wanted to cause them harm. and in a way, judar felt happy that no one was hurting them, at being their protecter in a sense.

everyday, judar would find himself running away from his duties at the kou castle to pay a visit to the slave he helped. the child had disappeared one day he returned and all the explanation he got was that the child had escaped. how? no one knows. but the adult who was left behind had an odd sense around them. their rukh was starting to dim and become more slower. were they sick? they didn’t look like it. but just in case they were indeed getting sick, he whispered a few health spells on them alongside a protection one before leaving.

each day judar comes to spend some time with the slave — while also using it as an excuse to run away from his magi work — he started to look forward to these little moments in his life. a peach from the castle one day, a fruit on the market square he saw on another day, a beautiful yet a simple looking ring one of the merchants were selling. each time he brings a little gift, the slave always bashfully denies it at first, saying that they were a slave and not a worker. each time judar made them accept his gifts.

judar will never confirm it out loud but he loved the little meetings he had with them. they were… nice. kind to him. not the bootlicking type of kind that he runs into everyday but the kind that is genuinely coming from the bottom of the heart and he felt that. judar enjoyed the little laughs the slave would make whenever he tells a joke or a funny story from the castle. the little dimple in their cheeks and the bright smiles. judar liked the look of awe on their face whenever he showed them a small trick — a little show of rukhs swarming at the tip of his wand or the icy flower he creates at random before tucking it behind their ear.

the prideful magi would never say it, but… he loved this person. this kind person who just gotten unlucky.

“i’ll get you out of here, alright? wait for me. i’ll come back tomorrow to set you free”

yet where were you? the rooms that you usually clean were being cleaned by another servant. when the servant in the room saw him, they dropped their towel to the floor in shock. but judar didn’t care if the servant was about to drop to their knees to honor his title or anything. he had no time for it.

“you didn’t knew, high magi? their master was killed and so, all the master’s slaves must be killed as well” the poor shaken up servant explains, handing him a letter as well. taking the letter, the magi wasted no time in ripping open the letter to read its content. judar was seeing red. he always had a certain amount of hate towards those who worked in the slave trades. he may be egotistical at times but judar still had feelings and emotions.

and right now, he was enraged.

“where? where did the executioners took them?” he asked frantically, almost sounding like a madman as he forces the poor servant to answer him. if his past self had looked at himself now, he would have laughed at the look on his face. maybe even mock himself for even daring to become this soft. but he didn’t care for that or how soft he had grown since meeting them. right now, he was just focused on finding them. and this time, he will hold his promise and set them free.

#nobu.writes #magi the labyrinth of magic x reader #magi x reader #judar #judar magi #judar x reader #judal x reader #magi the kingdom of magic #magi the labyrinth of magic #5k followers

[taralen]

🔥HOT TAKE: Spamton was always unhinged, but the phone incident made it worse.

(A theory by an actual insane person.)

I often see people think insanity is something that just happens and that all sufferers were totally sane before. This isn't necessarily true for a lot of people who truly suffer from debilitating mental illnesses. While some mental illnesses can be largely attributed to trauma (especially PTSD), others are "sleepers" that were always kind of there but escalated over time. Some of the most severe mental illnesses stigmatized by society (psychopathy, bipolar type 1, and schizophrenia) can have genetic predispositions. Being an oddball out of all the Addisons, it's highly likely he was already "predisposed" to becoming totally unhinged, almost like a game with bad code (ex, Yandere Simulator) that is prone to crashing or glitching out due to the code being faulty in the first place.

Spamton's personality type also made him susceptible to developing problems later on in his life. He shows the classic signs of someone who falls into personality types that are ambitious yet overly critical (i.e., Personality Type A.) Being too critical of yourself and others can lead to some rabbit-hole-level reasoning that pulls your psyche deeper into your own mind, causing reality and perception to blur.

The one pulling the strings elevated him and satisfied his desire for success. When this was taken away from him, his entire self-worth and sense of being were destroyed. Spamton was never not ambitious. The fact he took such a dubious call and offer shows his desperate, unhinged nature. Maybe it wasn't severe enough yet to consider "insane," but he was impulsive and didn't think it through. Impulsivity and lack of control are more classical symptoms of someone at risk of or already suffering from a mental illness.

When he finally snaps, he gets so unfathomably unstable that people finally acknowledge him as being truly "mad." This is largely due to him expressing and experiencing all the hallmarks of mania.

Now, let me say this as someone who experiences mania firsthand. Mania is something you cannot control, and it's like falling in and out of consciousness when it's severe. People experience it differently, but it feels like being on a stimulant drug without needing to take anything. Spamton does all the following (which are associated with mania):

Talks rapidly and usually about himself.

Uncontrollable and inappropriate laughter.

Grandiosity (BIG SHOT!!!)

Impulsivity and risky behavior. (He invites someone he literally just met into his place without fearing any consequences.)

Irritability Now, take your understanding of what these are and dial it up with hyperactivity, racing thoughts, and feeling like you're half-dreaming. Congrats! You now have a better idea of what mania is.

His moments of lucidity are characterized by bouts of sadness and self-loathing. This is caused by a lull or (worse) a crash from mania. Severity depends, but it's something also uncontrollable.

What the phone incident did was make him unable to regulate himself, and so all his high-risk traits come to the centerfold. It doesn't help, either, that he was abandoned by his friends. Without social interactions, symptoms can become worse, which is why he's manic damn near 99% of the time.

This is a lot, but my hope is that it reframes how some people may interpret the character through someone who deals with mirroring issues.

💛

#deltarune #deltarune analysis #deltarune theory #spamton #spamton g spamton #mental illness #I hope this is at least a little interesting haha

[internetmisfitsworld]

So far from what I've seen, the reboot doesn't showed or mentioned any implications that Makarov and Yuri were former friends or served together in the army. Hell by the looks of it, Yuri looks much older than Mak.

So I'm guessing in this new timeline, Activision probably won't go with that route anymore.

I noticed that not many people saw how much Yuri truly meant to Makarov. I'll go as far to say that Yuri was the LAST and ONLY shreds of humanity that's left in Makarov. Just a tiny piece.

Now why would I say that Yuri was his last shreds of humanity? I mean surely it's not possible right? After all, this is the same man who shot at him, almost blew him to pieces and literally KILLED him at the end.

Well, here's a few hints that I noticed.

(Long essay here. Because why not.)

(I'm feeling a bit emo over the fact that I'm gonna miss these two bastards dynamics.)

1. 1996 and 2011 flashback

He seemed so happy and content with Yuri during the flashback scene. His little smile when talking about the future of Ultranationalist to him. It seemed so genuine I almost forgot this man is a terrorist lol.

Also, it's kinda wholesome to know that these two were always joined at the hip. First, Pripyat then the whole nuking the US army. Must've been one hell of a duo back then to be picked as second in commands of Zakhaev. Well, either that or Zakhaev didn't have the heart to separate them 🤣 (they both shared one braincell).

Zakhaev: No. Yuri cannot go with you for this mission, Vladimir. He must stay here.

Makarov:

Yuri:

Zakhaev:

Makarov: ☹️

Yuri: ☹️

Zakhaev: 😑

Zakhaev: FINE. BOTH OF YOU GO!

2. No Russian

I wonder why didn't Mak killed Yuri sooner when he found out that Yuri was snitching on him to the FSB. Unless he found out about it on his way to the airport, then there was no reason to kill him at the airport.

I mean, why? Why did it just moments away from committing "the most world changing" act? He could've just killed him at the safehouse? There must've been someone guarding the safehouse, so if he wanted to pull the whole "let him suffer till his last moment" to Yuri, the safest way to do that was at the safehouse. At least his guards will shoot him if he so much as stand on his feet.

It makes me wonder if he was having hesitation? It's this complex feelings of the fact that he doesn't necessarily wants Yuri dead but he also doesn't really care if he lives either. He can't have him in his circle anymore due to his betrayal but it will set a bad example to his men if he lets Yuri live.

But he have to kill him in front of his men, so that they know he's not to be fucked with and he's not going soft. He can't afford any flaws. Especially now that he's the leader.

So the plan was to shoot Yuri in the abdomen area, under the pretense of "let him enjoy his last moment", and then count on him having the strength to crawl his way out of there.

Mind you, there's even an unused voiceline of Mak stopping the other from finishing Yuri off.

"No. Let him enjoy these last moments."

Which is bullshit, not to mention how uncharacteristically careless of him to pull this lol.

Because first of all, he and Yuri had fought side by side before, so he must've known just how far and how much Yuri is willing to push his strength and haul ass. He must've known Yuri's stubborn ass will NOT just lay there dying. He KNOWS Yuri would drag his ass up that elevator, hell even the fucking stairs if he have to, just to survive.

Like Mak, my dude, I know the chance of him catching up with you and shooting your ass was low due to him suffering from blood loss and everything, but still, my man, the risk is THERE.

That is dangerously stupid Mak agagaggaa you damn softie idiot.

But yeah I guess shooting up the airport was not the only successful mission that day. I'm certain he must've, unintentionally and discreetly, let out sigh of relief when he heard Yuri survived.

But also another incoming headache. Because he damn sure knows Yuri's gonna go after him using all the information that he knows about him.

3. Blood Brothers

Prior to this mission, we seen plenty times where Yuri gave intels about Makarov to Price and Soap. Some of those intels even sound... too personal. The kind of intels where you need to know him personally to be able to know that much. And sure enough Soap caught on to that during the Blood Brothers briefing;

Soap: Which vehicle will he be in?

Yuri: They constantly rotate for security. We won't know until he steps out.

Soap: You seem to know a lot about Makarov.

And the silence that followed after that lmao. I'm was dying to know the look on Soap and Yuri's face. I'm guessing Soap was hella suspicious and Yuri was pretending not to exist.

Also, I can imagined Yuri's guilt for not revealing the whole truth of who he was and his relations with Makarov.

Makarov had many "friends", no doubt due to his cold, no-nonsense yet charismatic charm. However, Yuri proved to be one of the only people who can adapt to his ways and doesn't cowered, like other people, from his steely mismatched eyes.

An equal. He was his closest friend. His only, truest friend, to be exact. Blood brothers. Brothers whom once bled together, not cause each other to bleed. Brothers whom once fought side by side, not against each other. Brothers whom once saved each other's lives countless times. Brothers whom suffer together, laugh together. Aight I'm getting emo here I'll stop.

Alright back on the topic. So, he must've known that Price, Yuri, and Soap were gonna assassinate him. He probably had the tower opposite the hotel planted with bombs as security measure but when he looked right at them (as Soap mentioned), his suspicion was confirmed.

It amazed me he chose this method instead of having his men snipe them. Not to mentioned he spoiled the surprise too. The tower that Soap and Yuri was in had huge ass open walls, which easily allows them to jump in time. Yeah they could still die from the high jumps but the survival chance was still there. The only reason Soap died was because of his previous unheal stab wound reopening again.

This man seems to really have a problem to kill his former friend didn't he? Like, how did you failed to kill him TWICE 😭✋️ ??

I'm sure his men at that point was sick of it.

Inner Circle dude: Sir, I think we should just snipe them from a distance. They won't see it coming.

Makarov: No, we're gonna use the bomb. But detonate it after I dramatically announce myself.

Inner Circle dude: But sir, that means they will have the time to jump off and survives?

Makarov: JUST DO AS I SAY.

Inner Circle dude:

He really kept on giving Yuri the chance to live. Even more funny, he still referred Yuri as "my friend" (albeit mockingly so but still).

4. Dust to Dust

Oh this mission breaks my heart in so many ways and reasons. Yuri dying, Price being alone.

But most of all, this moment right here.

This and Pripyat, was one of the two moments where he looks most human. It is a rather... oddly unique sight, seeing the big bad Vladimir Makarov, the monster, the terrorist who coldly slaughtered an airport filled with people,

.....staring so painfully disoriented and conflicted at his dead former friend that he just killed.

No doubt, even before he shot that gun, he's AWARE it was Yuri shooting at him. Because, who else. It's only him and Price. But of course, out of instinct, he reacts anyway.

And after all that adrenaline fades away, only then he truly let it sink in that the person he just shot three times, was Yuri. And fuck does it hurts him alot more than that pain in his stomach.

Mind you, at this point Price has already risen up, on his knees, ready to tackle him, and he STILL didn't turn around. Seconds must've felt like eternity for him. Man was lost in his head.

That's how long this man stares at Yuri's dead body. That's how much Yuri's death affects him to the point he loses his focus on his surrounding. It's like in those few seconds, he was having a hard time taking in the fact that;

a) he just killed his only friend.

b) he really is alone now. he just killed the only person who knows him truly, well before he turn into the monster that he is now.

He snapped out of it at the last minute, and even then he seems hesitant. Not because he was hesitated to kill Price but he was hesitated to live.

He knows he's screwed the moment he turns around. He realized just how much he fucked up for losing his focus. It's like at that point he just gave up on fighting. Yeah I know he still fights back if we were not quick enough to continously strangle him but still he doesn't seem to try hard enough.

For the first time in a long time, he was exhausted. Yuri's death drained him of all the fight he had left in him.

Yuri shooting at Makarov is not the only thing that saves Price. Yeah, it helps distract + weakening Makarov.

But I promise you, if Yuri didn't have any meaningful friendship with Mak and was just another random soldier defected from the Ultranationalist, Price would've been dead. Yeah change my mind.

Look at how fast Makarov's reaction time when Yuri shot at him. Mind you, this man just seconds ago was barely able to STAND UP, holding his stomach in pain, clearly suffered from major injuries in the abdominal areas.

The second that bullet hits his right shoulder, he slumped down for like 1 second, lift that gun up, take his aim, and fired that shit up. So pretty much he won't have a problem to immediately turn around and shoot Price as well.

But since said problem was Yuri, and so, Price got lucky.

And now it seems in the reboot, chances are, we will never get to this again.

(Also, I'm aware that there are people who ships them romantically. Which is perfectly fine. I personally sees them as close friends, like brothers. But hey, even I enjoyed Makayuri contents sometimes. So just letting you know that and I hope people can respect that.)

#vladimir makarov #call of duty vladimir makarov #call of duty makarov #cod vladimir makarov #cod makarov #call of duty yuri #cod yuri

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - The reader inches closer to meeting the cold and awfully handsome CEO of O’Hara Enterprises, Miguel. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

two

You don’t want to do this. You really, truly don’t want to do this. It is a selfish thought one could even think considering most people would be overflowing with undeniable joy at the opportunity to land a position like this. You’re a persistent thing, you never did give up easy. Not as a waitress, not as a pretty ballerina in a box, not as a future… whatever you will be doing here.

You did minimal research, silly on your end but you didn’t think it much mattered anyways. Most anything would be better than flying back home and taking the job waiting for you there. This was a middle. Of course, it wasn’t as pretty as twirling in iridescence for the world to see but, it was a middle.

You opted for a google search or two, that was after the twenty voicemails and you actually landing an interview. Javier Peña, former detective turned business man for this company which you know virtually nothing about.

All you know is that the glass is awfully shiny, the tiles squeak against your target heels, and your coat looks itchy and suffocating compared to the Asian girl who has finally returned from fetching Javier, you assume.

The women here are all so prim and proper, like they’ve been written from the remnants of uncanny valley. Their smiles are tight, their teeth a perfect pearl, but the girl who approaches you with not a sloppy name tag but rather golden embroidery etched into her cloth tresses spelling the pretty name: “Cindy Moon,” that girl seems more tolerable. More anxious. Younger, more human.

Your hand is cold as ice. This old, itchy coat has four holes in it and fails miserably at keeping you warm in December, in this mansion of an office. Manicured fingertips lift to twirl your silken curls. It is then that you remember the pain and suffering of flattening them straight last night and then again this morning.

“My sincere apologies, miss. It seems as though Mr. Peña is unavailable this evening. Not to worry though, I’ve managed to pull some strings. You’ll be interviewing with Mr. O’Hara.”

Thank god for the pretty, less uncanny valley and awfully kind Cindy Moon in a pencil skirt. You sigh in relief, unable to hide your smile as you lift to your feet and smooth the wrinkles in your skirt.

“No worries! I’m ready.”

Cindy Moon looks as if there is a piece of sour taffy glued to her pink tongue, but she forces what looks to be an attempted smile back before leading you to the glass elevator. So much glass it’s as if nobody here would be allowed to keep secrets.

You send another glance Cindy’s way as the elevator floats up to the highest floor. She hasn’t blinked, she hasn’t made a sound. She looks, afraid.

“Are you-?”

The elevator rings in joy, glass parting in welcome to a floor with glistening tile and glass surrounding one room of hidden oak that is six pirouettes away.

Cindy doesn’t answer you, she just looks grateful that the doors have parted.

“This way.” Her voice is tight too now as her white heels click against the marble tile, closer and closer to the oak. You stumble behind, eyes feasting on everything they can possible swallow.

There is a rendition of “Santa, Baby,” humming on a small speaker to your left— and a pathetic little Christmas tree on its last limb to your right.

Above you? A giant cursive dance of golden letters spelling: “O’Hara Enterprises.” That must be the owner.

It seems like ages before you reach the oak door, hidden by it or— from it rather. Cindy winces as she looks up at you. A long moment passes, you wonder if something is on your face. No, you realize when she frowns that she is contemplating something you don’t understand. She decides when her voice greets you in a soft whisper,

“Miss, keep this between us please but— Mr. O’Hara can be a bit… what’s the word I’m looking for… firm?”

She’s silly. Silly but sweet like sugar. You smile at her, gathering your words as you rest your body against the oak and cross your arms. How can you explain that you endured years of suffering from dancing under the torturous hand of Katerina and.. her husband.

Your smile doesn’t seem to put Cindy Moon at ease, not in the slightest. Maybe you missed something, an often occurrence.

Your brows pinch then as you try to pick apart her words. It is when your mind repeats them that realization strikes you like a bolt of electricity.

O’Hara Enterprises… Mr.O’Hara.

You’re interviewing with the fucking CEO of the company…

chap 2 song 🎧:

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fluff #Spotify

[bengiyo]

Hi Ben!

I saw Vee from You're My Sky in your most misunderstood characters list and now I'm curious, what's your opinion on this series as a whole? Gifs tell me that it has a high production value, great cinematography and Suar in it, so I'm quite tempted to give it a go. But it's rarely talked about so... is it really worth a watch?

I love You're My Sky because it was the first show to follow in the wake of I Told Sunset About You and try to bring rich color, engaging cinematography, and and structured presentation of character dynamics after ITSAY. It's also a sports BL that takes its sports portion super seriously. It's also the show you should watch if you like when the younger guy is pursuing the older guy, because that's true for all three couples.

The show has three couples in it, and I really liked how the show kept all three couples at about the same moment emotionally throughout the entire runtime. It meant that we sometimes wouldn't see one of the side couples for a while, but I much prefer that to having the couples be in really different places and throw off the emotional tone of an episode.

Our primary pairing is between Thorn and Tupfah. They are childhood friends. Thorn followed Tupfah to his college after a few years and was confused why Tupfah no longer plays basketball. Theirs is a friends-to-lovers story where Thorn has been pining for a long time.

This show let us also see them spend time as a couple and face real complications that a couple of two aspiring professional athletes would face, including availability for college practice and potentially ending up with different clubs. There's also a great deal of examination of the kinds of coaching environments athletes might suffer or thrive under.

The second couple, Saen and Aii, aren't a sports couple, but Aii is older and graduating. He's focused on leaving Thailand and pursuing a professional career in Japan. In them you get a determined, sociable younger pursuer and a standoffish older interest.

I really liked where they went with this couple because we got to see a grandmother giving a knowing smirk when she enters the bedroom after their first night together, and we see them deal with the impending stress of being in a long-distance relationship for likely years.

I wrote about Vee in the ask you mentioned, but to reiterate, Vee is assigned to work with his sister's boyfriend on the track team. Vee, being the flirty little shit he is, teases Dome and is having a good time until it gets way too serious for both of them and he's having a panic attack in the middle of a race.

Their story is compelling because it doesn't end in success on screen. The social politics of their attraction make it impossible for them to consummate this romance under the current circumstances, and the show explores how this choice impacted the sister as well.

And then there's the basketball! This show does so much cool shit with the camera and the frame around the basketball itself. It also has a robust supporting cast in the basketball team. There's a beautiful scene of the whole team giving space to Thorn and Fah to figure out something important, and there's another lovely scene where they talk about gender identity.

Truly, as a man who enjoys sports and sports dramas, they did not fuck around when it came to doing the sports portion of this. The only other BL I remember being this serious about the sports was maybe Project S: Spike. Almost all the gifs are going to be the romance stuff, but the sports stuff in this show is well done.

I'm a big fan of this project, and I think it has some of my favorite presentations of masculinity in genre. I will probably rewatch it after I finish this UWMA rewatch.

Thanks for the ask!

#answered #you're my sky #thai bl

[buckyysdoll]

okay; part 2/2

MAIN MASTERLIST

જ⁀➴ part two of okay!! written for an old request from @hi-my-name-is-riley — hon, i am SO sorry that it took this long, it’s been a mess but i hope this is alright !! 😭 if not, (and i'm sorry it's short!!) then please feel free to curse my name to the winds !! (aka, ask another writer to do something better if this wasn’t what u were looking for <3) xo

summary: when you find out you’ve passed this time, bucky’s still by your side through it all — ps. congratulations, this is so so amazing for u!! i really hope ur proud of urself <33

The jump of the cork from the bottle pulled a hoot from your throat, and you laughed; the surprise of the sound so fleeting and lovely you could've cried then. You'd been crying a lot lately. Though as smoke rose from the lip and you realised how these days most things seemed just that — so fleeting and lovely — you were grateful that joyful tears now took your former sorrow's lost place.

The man by your side put his hand to your back as you poured the cool drink into glasses.

This time last week, you'd been coping okay but still hanging onto all those what-ifs. Had you have passed, what would your life look like compared to what it was then, as you thought it? You'd wait for the kettle to boil, you'd be washing the dishes and then it'd come — a thought of yes, there were other chances. But, what if? What if.

Now though, there were no questions in your mind of how it had been meant to happen. Something shone in your chest that at first had felt barely familiar, but what you now knew was pride; the very same feeling your boyfriend had kept you alive with in the weeks that had followed that first phone call that had ultimately changed the trajectory of your life.

And for the better.

Your eyes sought him out at the thought, as they always did, just to find his already on you. Sam and Sarah, across from you both on the other side of your small city apartment's kitchen island, were here too; your best friend on a stool of the breakfast bar and clapping, whooping with a wide smile. Her brother had shared her enthusiasm, loving you as a friend so close he was family.

You'd always had the kind of relationship where he was also like your own brother — light and easy, but a bond you relied on, too.

Even when he was a pain in your ass.

Today though, this was one of those (rare) times he wasn't; where he'd shared in your joy wholeheartedly as you'd filled them in on what had happened with the call. Of course, Bucky had been the first to know — had been at home when the phone rang. And had known just by the look on your face, by your tone and wide, full eyes, that something had changed.

Something crucial had happened.

And thank God that it had.

Seeing you suffer hurt worse than anything HYDRA had ever done to him.

You'd ended that call with enough restless energy to induce a self combustion, and needless to say, you'd called your two friends as soon as you could to share the news of success.

Truly you were grateful, in this moment and so many others when you looked back on how far you'd come. Every single day spent aching with regret, the swelling pain of that rejection you'd coped with — and now there was this: you, with all the opportunity you'd rightfully earned through hard work. Through persistent ambition.

It seemed now though, looking at Bucky, that there was only you two in the room. There wasn't Sarah, chiding her boys — your godchildren — who ran about the small space; there wasn't even Sam who was laughing, and trying — failing miserably, though — not to show it.

This was your family, the one that you'd made, and the people you loved with all your heart. But to your eyes there was still only Bucky, the love and pure joy of your life.

All other talk fell away.

The sheer warmth in his eyes had your heart pounding hard in an ache so fierce as to nearly floor you. You could barely breathe through it, but somehow, just like he always did — Bucky gave you the strength. It was a private moment that promised a million more to come that night, and one which said I told you so in a way that only compounded his faith.

Because not for one moment had he ever stopped believing in you. In his girl. In the woman to whom he hoped, maybe soon, he'd have the courage to finally ask that question …

And now, to stand there seeing the joy on your face, the relief, the self-pride? It was enough to bring the man to his knees, but for now, he would just toast his glass against yours. He would lean in, his arm held round your waist to keep you tucked close into his side, press a soft kiss to vour temple and just whisper, "You did it, doll.”

Because you had. You'd done it. You'd passed.

And you were okay. So much more than okay.

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x fem!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female yn #bucky x female!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfics #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female!reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky comfort fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfic

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, three months ago I began posting music by recently deceased artists and long-dead bands that were, all of them, exceptional in some way. I haven’t stopped since, and with this post I hereby pronounce my quarter-year long rediscovery of dead bands to be officially complete… and lucky you, I’ve got a plump Maraschino cherry to place on top of this layered ice cream cake. Folks, crank the volume, smash play, and be placed in salivating awe at one of the most influential dead bands of all-time. Imagine a musical act that is completely mediocre in every way; just some shitty, generic modern band the likes of which you hear ad infinitum on Top-40’s radio. Now, add to that same non-specific act a lead lady vocalist that has a voice on par with Billie Holiday. Back that superb voice up with instrumentalists hungry to deliver something that sounds new and exciting to the world, subtract the pretentiousness and insincerity of modern music, and cube the equation with infinite collective creativity and genuine inspiration. What you are left with is the almighty and immortal Portishead. As English as roast beef and hailing from Bristol, this group hasn’t made an album in about fifteen years and only technically lives on through ultra-rare live performances. In just under two decades from the mid-90’s to 2008, this group managed to produce not mere music, but genuine lightning-in-a-bottle magic. The members were all very motivated by old timey film soundtrack LP’s, leaving a lot of their tracks sounding like a tune from a film noire. Whether they liked it or not, they had a major hand in popularizing trip-hop, a highly experimental genre (in the 90’s anyway) which relies heavily on hip hop tempos mixed with soul, jazz, funk, or whatever form of electronic music you want to throw into the fusion. This was also a band that just kind of burned out; despite their notoriety and mega-successful presence in the industry, the members of this collective were just fallible people at the end of the day, and apparently suffered from extreme exhaustion by way of constantly recording and touring. If you spent your time in studios cranking out some of the highest quality music available at the time, you’d be exhausted too. This is Biscuit from 1994’s Dummy, and it is merely one of many, many outstanding works from their contemplative, well-executed and downright industry-changing catalog. Truly quality music (just like any quality entertainment; movies, television, art, etc.) should reveal something true and perhaps tragic about the human condition. Portishead excelled in this area. It doesn’t matter if they were only around for a moment in time. Their music is TIMELESS.

I don’t generally post many ultra-famous acts on this page unless given a motivation. Here’s my motivation; Portishead changed music on the planet Earth forever. They’re more goth than the whole of modern goth music. They’re trippy-er than the entirety of trip-hop. And, if anything you do in your life has 1/10th the positive impact on the globe as this here musical act, you, my friend, have earned my respect for merely existing. Image source: https://www.nme.com/blogs/nme-blogs/the-roots-of-portishead-767977

#portishead #biscuit #dummy #trip hop #music #music on tumblr #audio video #electronica #downtempo #experimental music #experimental rock #beth gibbons #audio #english band

[gamerbearmira]

I could talk about this resident evil 8 AU for days! I've actually been keeping myself from posting more asks That way I can get your response/feedback before I start adding more.

Miranda definitely projects onto Mirabel in fact when she first got there Miranda didn't give her to Alcina and instead had her living with her and she refused to call her by her name and was calling her Eva instead. she did that for like a week before she gave her to Alcina but when she gets extremely upset with her she will call her Eva and tell her that she's her daughter.

Speaking of Alcina her and her daughters relationship with Mirabel is.... Complicated to say the least. Mirabel loves Alcina and her daughters because Alcina took her in and truly did act like a mother figure that would never harm her and they all loved her like their own but Mirabel hates unnecessary cruelty/violence which is something the Dimitrescu family loves to do. they try to tone it down by a large amount because they saw how much it truly bothered her but they all are very temperamental/sadistic which I think is a by-product of their version of the mutations (plus the fact that they need to eat people to survive) so they aren't very successful which put a bit of stain on their relationship with Mirabel. Which they are all very aware of and try everything in their power to bridge the gap with her to varying degrees of success.

When Miranda forces Maribel to experiment on her family Maribel does what she could to defy her in the moment which was to beg and plead with her not to do it and to try and get her to change her mind. But after she threatened to experiment on them herself Maribel went ahead and did it (Miranda doesn't use actual anesthesia she instead uses a paralyzer so when she experiments on people they can't move but they are awake and aware of everything that's happening That includes all of the Lords)

When there are experiments of hers that has the result being something like the lycans she immediately puts them down herself that way the person inside isn't suffering and there aren't a bunch of monsters running around that she created and causing mass casualties/complete chaos. Which is something that karl argues with her a lot about saying that she's wasting potential soldiers for the army against Miranda.

Speaking of Karl they have a very love-hate relationship. They both sometimes get together and get along over their mutual hatred of Miranda and try to make plans to stop her but because they both go about it in two very different ways they often are arguing with each other on how to stop Miranda (it also doesn't help that Mirabel spend a good portion of her time with Alcina who hates him) both are convinced that their way is the right way and can't believe the other one can't see what they're doing wrong. The way that Mirabel is trying to stop her is by trying to create a brand new body for her daughter to go in that way there is no need for a human vessel and instead she has her own freshly made body to take over and we all know karl's way of trying to stop Miranda.

Mirabel does not physically touch The orphans/her family without wearing a pair of leather gloves because she "doesn't want a monster like myself touching people so pure and innocent."

Speaking of the family Julieta does NOT want to let Mirabel out of her sight. None of them do but Julieta is probably the worst out of all of them about that and had the most visceral reaction when Miranda slaps mirabel across the face (which she does when they are in the middle of dinner she wanted to make sure that the entire family was in one area and saw her "light punishment".)

SO COULD I. But I could also talk about Resident Evil all day in general. I blame my friend because she got me into it 😭😭

Honestly, it’s so sad that Miranda projects onto her. I mean this whole thing started because she simply couldn’t cope with her daughter’s death and really thought she could bring her back. And now she’s taking poor Mirabel and treating her like she Eva and not…Mirabel. Like what is this, Law and Order?? SVU??? Imagine how terrified Mirabel is. She was kidnapped, and is now being called some random name. And then even after that, Miranda will snap at her and call her Eva, which is WILD. And then she made her experiment on her family. And Mirabel only did it because she didn’t want her family to suffer to much in the aftermath and. Let’s be real here, Mirabel’s mortality rates are way lower than Miranda’s when it comes to experimental stuff 🗿

Honestly, I can see and honestly agree that Mirabel does care for Lday D and her daughters, but like. Morally, she CANNOT agree with the stuff they do. Like when she found out, she did understand that they needed it to survive, but she felt like they could have done it by more. You know. Conventional means. Or at least very least more humane 💀 she wants to be close, but honestly that whole sadistic killing thing and making wine out of their blood is just not how she rolls ☹️ and with Karl. They remind me of siblings, I mean they both can agree a some (very few) things, but just refuse to hear the other out, but honestly it’s kinda understandable.

ALSO MIRABEL WEARING GLOVES I CAN’T. LIKE I CAN’T RN. FR. Like the fact that she feels like that breaks my heart I can’t do this 🤧🤧 light punishment is actually crazy. Like clinically insane. Which Miranda probably is tbh. I understand Julieta’s reaction, shoot I wouldn’t let her outta my sight either 🌚📸 like imagine how horrified she was when Mirabel just SAT THERE AND TOOK IT. Idk about Julieta, but let somebody do that to my child and we gone take it outside 🧌

This how that dinner went:

Ok I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m gone 🌫️🌫️

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #encanto julieta #mother miranda #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil 8 #re #re 8 #resident evil village #resident evil au