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neteyamsyawntu · 7 months

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Kinktober 06

B l i n d f o l d e d

Neteyam x Na’vi!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, vulgar language, dirty talk, P in V, lubed up/oily Neteyam, blindfold play, stimulation, dom!reader, needy!Nete

It was late in the afternoon when you found yourself sat with your legs crossed in the center of your marui, hands busy with your latest concoction of lotion. While you found that you were a skilled healer, you often experimented with alternative uses for specific plants. One of which included a warming sort of lubricant. This had been your second time making this recipe and you felt as if you had finally mastered it. Just as you had released a sigh of satisfaction with your work, your ears flick to the sound of your tent flap opening to reveal your mate, muscles taut and many dark bruises littered his body. “Ma’Teyam you look exhausted, my love.” You coo shifting your position to sit on your knees as Neteyam plops down loudly beside you with a thump, “If Lo’ak does not master this combat maneuver soon, I will kill that skxawng myself.” He huffed, wiping the sweat off his brow bone with the back of his hand. A small giggle softly echoes through the hut as you place yourself slightly behind him, setting your hands on either one of his shoulders, gently applying pressure to the obviously overworked muscles. Your smile stretches slightly when Neteyam releases a strained groan at the sensation, starting to feel the exhaustion hit his body now that he was sat and finally allowed to rest.

“I’m sure it will not come to that.” you purr, leaning forward to place a tender kiss against his temple, your mind suddenly sparking with the perfect way to test your new recipe. “Why don’t I take care of you tonight? Help you ease your muscles?” You ask sweetly as you continue to gently knead at his stiff shoulders, a soft hum rumbles from Neteyam’s chest as he contemplates your offer, before taking hold of one of your hands, and bringing it to his lips, “You are too good to me, ma’muntxate.”. His response sends a warmth through your chest as you look at him endearingly, gently moving away from him as you set out a couple soft pelts on the floor for him to lay down on comfortably. “You know the drill” you muse, kneeling down beside the pelts, leaving an open space for him as you set the bowl of thick oil beside you. Neteyam smiles, giving his own amused chuckle, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips, “Thank you, yawne.” He purrs before carefully moving to lay on his stomach, laying flat with his arms to his sides. “Mhm… I just hope Lo’ak looks as bad as you do.” This triggers a stronger chuckle from your mate which quickly transitions into a tired sigh, “Yes, he is just as frustrated as I am at this point.”.

Adjusting your position, you carefully settle yourself behind him to straddle his thighs, draping his tail over your thigh to keep it out of the way, before leaning into forward to move his braids and kuru from off of his shoulders. Just as you are about to dip your fingers into the liquidity substance you pause for a moment as a fascinating thought streams into your mind. Before long you are lifting yourself from your positions, fetching a thick strip of spare fabric from one of your latest weaving projects. Neteyam raises his head to watch you as you crouch down in front of him with the object in hand, “What is that for?”, “I was just thinking this may help clear your mind… help you focus on the massage and keep those other pesky thoughts out of your head.” Neteyam looked skeptical for a moment, but ultimately agreed, having a hard time saying no to you. With a victorious smile you carefully place the fabric over his eyes, wrapping it around the back of his head and typing it securely. “I can’t see anything, yawne… I’m… not sure how this is supposed to help.”, “Trust me, Nete, it’ll help.”. You say as you lift a finger under his chin to arch his neck further back, not being able to help thinking how vulnerable he looked like this. Soon enough you are moving back to your previous position on the back of his thighs, your hands slipping down to the strings of his loincloth, skillfully loosening the knot to slip the garment from under his body, “Wouldn’t want to stain this now would we?”.

Finally you submerge your fingers into the bowl of lubricant, scooping out a generous amount. With your clean hand you allow your fingertips to ever so slightly drag along the length of his spine, your ears perking when Neteyam slightly jumps at the sudden touch, his senses now heightened with the loss of his sight. Starting on his shoulders you lather the clear substance all over the length of his back, being sure to take your time working it into each tight muscle. With his backside glistening in the dim light of your marui, you begin with Neteyam’s lower back, rolling your knuckles into the space just above the base of his tail. Muffled groans emerging from your mate as you had more and more pressure working the tautness out of his back as you progressively move your way up his spine. “Does that feel nice, ma’muntxatan?” You hum watching as Neteyam practically melts under your touch, “Mmm~” He moans in response, nuzzling his face into the soft pelts below him. You begin a simple pattern of rolling your palms against his back in repetitive motions, with just enough pressure to make his tail reflexively curl around your thigh. As if his own body heat had transferred to your own, you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your cheeks as his pleasured and satisfied noises send a flurry of butterflies to your stomach.

You can’t help, but feel slightly embarrassed by the fact that you were getting turned on from just his voice alone, yet you weren’t in the slightest surprised by this outcome. Absentmindedly you begin rolling your pelvis against his rear ever so slightly in efforts to feel a bit of friction from sitting on his thighs, disguising it as a simple move of your body as you rubbed his back. Neteyam could tell there was a difference in your body language however, yet made no moves to question or stop you. Instead his tail swiped across your thigh loveling, letting his moans slip more freely. You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter by the second, graciously drinking in the view of him all lathered up and slippery, a flurrying sensation flowed through your body, directly to your core. You needed more of him.

“Turn over for me, love.” You instruct in a sweet, soothing tone to which your mate eagerly complys, carefully rolling onto his back beneath your straddling legs. Your eyes trail over his bare chest, his body seeming more relaxed than it was prior to you starting your treatment. Your gaze then lands on his hardened cock. Of course you weren’t surprised that something like this would arouse your mate, but it was taking your better judgment to stay focused and work on his sore muscles first. Collecting another dose of the lubricant on your fingers, you attentively spread the substance along his chest, using both hands to get an even coating, watching as his lips slightly parted at the contact. As your fingers gently trace down his pectorals, his back arches slightly when the tips of your fingers run over his nipples. With your tail now flicking curiously, you can’t help, but repeat the action, letting your lubricated fingers run upwards to graze his nipples once again, now earning a hitched breath from your blindfolded mate. Trying your best to hold in your soft giggle, you return to the task at hand, letting your fingers move downward, moistening his abs with the lubricant, a sigh of relief leaving Neteyam’s lips as you massage his sides. Again you find yourself distracted as his cock lays proudly across his lower abdomen. With your hands still decently moist you trail your fingers down his pelvis, cautiously rubbing your fingers around the base of his cock, not quite touching it, but getting close enough for it to twitch in anticipation, as if his body were begging for it, “My mate, I know when you are teasing me. Please, let me feel you.” He whispers hoarsely as his chest begins to rise and fall a bit faster with the increased beating of his heart. “Relax my love, I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” You muse, finally moving your hands to cup the base of his cock, spreading the warm oil along his shaft.

Another sigh of relief, although this time shifting into a broken moan as you begin to slowly work the lotion into his erection. You gaze with desire as his cock now glistens in the light, looking all the more appealing. Looking up to take a peek at Neteyam’s face, you can’t help, but absentmindedly clench around nothing, seeing how his face is directed toward the ceiling of the marui, mouth hung open, while his sleek chest rises and falls, anticipation coursing through his veins, now bringing his hands up to gently grip into your thighs. “Yawne, please… I need you.” He manages to whimper, his cock twitching needily in your hand as you start to stroke him at a faster pace. “You know you are going to have to tell me what you want, Teyam.” You coo in a sweet voice, admittedly taking joy in watching him struggle.

“You know what I want, yawne…” he says through his moans, sliding his hands up to your hips to pull you forward on his lap so that your mons is just pressing against his standing erection, “I need to be in you, please. Before I take off this foolish blindfold and take it for myself.”. You bite your lip at your mate’s eagerness, letting out a soft giggle as you lift your hips, slowly crawling over his form to capture his lips with your own. He is caught off guard at first, but then eagerly welcomes it with his own hungry pursuit of your mouth with his tongue, yet you pull away before he can get too worked up, “You know I love hearing you beg, Muntxatan~.” You mewl teasingly, as you align your moist pussy lips with the head of his cock before very slowly lowering yourself onto him. His grip on your hips immediately tightens, head falling back to create an attractive arch in his neck, “Ahh fuuuck…” he groans as the tightness of your walls eagerly suck him into you. Your own eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sink lower and lower onto him until you are sitting flush against his lap, mushroomy tip pressing against your cervix lovingly. It was times like this, when the two of you took your intimacy slow, that you were truly able to appreciate the girth and length of his cock, feeling a satisfying stretch even with the help of the lubricant.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Neteyam greedily starts to move your hips back and forth, causing you to place both of you hands on his chest, in fear you may keel over from the assertiveness of his movements. “Yes… feels so good, my yawne. Fuck I needed this…” he moans, chest heaving as starts to slowly thrust up into you, milking every second of being this deep inside of you. Your body now felt completely hot, knowing full well that if you caught a glimpse of your reflection somewhere, your face would be painted in the heaviest blush. Carefully moving your hands along his moist chest, your fingertips find their way to his nipples once more, now tweaking and rolling them beneath to pads of your fingers with more passion. “Mmm!~” he whimpers, arching his back at the sensation, simultaneously digging his own fingers into the flesh of your hips harder, the bucking of his hips following suit.

Your moans echo beautifully in Neteyam’s ears, his own face contorting in pleasure as he can just imagine what your face looks like in this moment, “My yawne, take this off of me. I want to see your face when I fuck you like this.” He groans, bucking his hips harder at the word. Leaning back, you place your hands on his legs, now rolling your hips to meet your mate’s hungry thrusts, “Mmm, but you look so breedable like this, my love~. So cute and submissive.”. The comment makes your mate blush from under his blindfold, ears folding back, taken a back for a brief moment by the bold comment. “Breedable hm? Are you sure that’s not what you are, my muntxate?” He quips back with another hard thrust into your leaking cunt, hitting exactly where you needed him to. His ears perk at the sound of your passionate cry, a smirk growing on his lips as he repeats the action again, “Ohhh, Teyam- fuck!”. You merely hear a confident chuckle in response, a hand lifting from your hips to push his blindfold from off of his eyes, finally able to drink in your look of utter arousal; eyes closed, head rolled back, mouth open as lewd moans cascade from your vocal cords, “Mmmng, you look so pretty on my cock, yawne.” He purrs before his eyes drift over to the bowl of oil beside him, acting on instinct he dips his fingers into the substance himself, bringing his hand to your breast, and spreading it all along your torso.

You shiver at the sudden sensation, yet allow him to continue as he brings his slippery hand down between your pelvises, letting his thumb roll the liquid over your erect clit, coaxing out another shiver as Neteyam starts a familiar pattern of rubbing your clit in tight circles, moving and pulling the bundle of nerves in every which way to get the best reaction out of you. When pulled at a certain angle your body reflexively clenches tightly around his cock, earning a gravely moan from your mate, “Ahh… you're so tight, my love. Are you going to cum already?” He purrs, sitting up to wrap an arm around your backside, pulling your slippery bodies against one another, bending his knees slightly to better bounce you on his lap with loud, wet smacks as your arousal creates a sticky pool on Neteyam’s lap. You nod in response, nuzzling your nose against his own, letting out more and more desperate whines the closer you get. “That’s it, yawne… let go for your mate.” He whispers breathily, eyes closing, brows knitting together as he feels his own release toeing closer.

In an almost euphoric scream, your juices are flooding around his cock, the new warmth fueling his own release as both of his arms encased around you to hold you close to him as spurts of cum shoot into your cunt. Panting in each others air you both sleepily gaze into one another’s eyes. Neteyam breathily chuckles before letting out a strained groan, “I think my muscles need a bit more rubbing, if you don’t mind, yawne.”, “Of course my love, lay back for me.” You coo pressing a tender kiss on his nose, before urging him to lay back with a gentle palm. “No funny business this time. I feel like my body may break if we got too carried away again.”

You merely giggle, following him down to the floor with a mischievous smirk on your face, holding eye contact as you dip your fingers into the oil once again, “And what would be the fun in that?”.

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles @teymars @neteyamyanw3 @eyweveng

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #kinktober #avatar kinktober #lunaskinktober2023

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sewermageboy · 7 months

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obligatory "i love gale, I promise i'm not shitting on gale" comment before I start, but:

I feel like with a lot of the "he was groomed" narrative for Gale, people assume it's a given that Mystra came to him when he was a child, right? He says that she was his teacher, his muse, and then his lover, so I can see why people think that she must have been with him since he was a child.

But (I've been going down a Forgotten Realms lore rabbit hole, and found that) Mystra was killed around a hundred years before BG3, and only returned to life in 1479 DR, around 13 years before the events of the game. So unless we're saying that Gale is 30 years old (and in my mind he's more like 35-45), he would have been an adult by the time they met, even assuming that she immediately reached out to him after returning to the Forgotten Realms.

So why is the "groomed from childhood" narrative so prevalent? I think most people (rightfully) have better things to do with their time than reading about the fckn Spellplague on the Forgotten Realms wiki, but apart from that.

I think, especially with how many people (on tiktok especially, as far as I've seen) seem to hate Gale for being "too pushy" or whatever bc of the romance bug, there's an inherent instinct for Gale enjoyers to justify their liking of this character, by explaining away his flaws and his idiosyncrasies by saying "he is the way he is because he was groomed by the goddess of magic", and therefore his flaws aren't his own fault/don't matter, whatever.

It really bothers me when people explain away his flaws like that. He's braggadocious, yes, and he's arrogant, and he's filled to the brim with hubris. Does he have his reasons for that? Yes, of course! But that doesn't mean that his flaws are any less present, and just as much of a part of him as all the good parts. It bothers me when people do this with any of the characters tbh, like saying that all of Astarion's shitty behavior is due to his trauma at the hands of Cazador (which much of it is! But he's also just kinda a shitty person, and that's okay!!)

Like, if we look at Forgotten Realms lore, and say that Gale is around 40, Mystra would have approached him as a young man in his 20s - and honestly, that version of events is still just as fucked up to me as "he was groomed". Here you have this brilliant wizard, who lives for magic and manipulating the weave, and the goddess of magic herself begins to mentor him, teach him, inspire him, and eventually becomes his lover, too. Then, after she keeps showing him magic that will forever be beyond his reach, telling him to be content with his lot, he goes too far - and is discarded in the process, left alone to deal with the Orb in his chest despite Mystra being able to heal him instantly if she wished. And not only does he have to deal with a bad breakup and a nuclear bomb in his chest, no, he's also never able to truly be free of her, as long as he wishes to still do magic - something that is basically second nature to him, and that he could never give up.

I've also seen people conflate his Early Access story (Mystra discarding him first and for no reason, and him ending up with the Orb in his chest as a result of trying to win her back) with his full release one (Him trying to prove to Mystra he was worthy of being shown magic beyond any other mortals, ending up with the Orb, and Mystra discarding him as a result of that), and I feel like that comes from the same place as the insistence on him being groomed - trying to justify his behavior and sanitize him as much as possible.

I understand the instinct to defend Gale from people who shit on him needlessly bc of the romance bug or whatever, I really do. I adore Gale, and I think he's one of the most fascinating characters in the game! But I also think it's a disservice to him to not acknowledge the negative parts of him, or to explain them away as being caused by trauma he might have gone through.

The shitty parts, the ones you can really sink your teeth into, are what make most of the companions so interesting to me!!! And Gale's arrogance, his clumsiness when he flirts and how quick he is to fall in love, his hubris and his anger are all part of that!!

Edit: just wanted to clarify that I have no issue with the interpretation that Gale was groomed by Mystra from a young age in and of itself!

As @galedekarios rightfully pointed out, Larian often plays fast and loose with the timeline, so Mystra's death and her return to the forgotten realms only factor in so much. There's ample evidence in the game for the grooming interpretation, and it's also super fascinating to me, I just don't like that a lot of the discussion of Gale's character seems to boil down to: "but he was groomed, so it doesn't matter", or that many people seem to view it as the only valid interpretation of his character.

#gale of waterdeep #bg3 meta #mystra #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

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vickysaurus · 11 months

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Let's take a closer look at the hominin skulls in the Senckenberg Museum's human evolution room. Keep in mind this is not a linear progression through our ancestors, and more like a bunch of closer and more distant cousins.

The first one, Sahelanthropus tchadensis is seven million years old, and may very well not be a hominin at all. I've always leaned towards the hypothesis that it's a gorilla relative, not one of ours. No matter which branch of the apes it belongs to, it lived not long after the time the human-line (hominins) and the chimp-line separated, and possibly even before that point!

Ardipithecus ramidus, the first hominin from where we can start making a fairly decent family tree of our relatives. Before this point, 5 million years ago, hominin fossils are very rare, fragmentary, and difficult to assign. One of the most interesting things that does seem to emerge from these early fossils is that we have walked on two legs for a long time. Maybe even so long that our common ancestor with the chimps and bonobos did it!

Lucy represents Australopithecus afarensis, who shows up at this point (3.3 million years ago).

Australopithecus africanus, the Taung child to be precise. We're about 2.8 million years ago at this point. Australopithecines must've been such fascinating creatures.

Homo habilis, the 'handy man', named that way because when they were discovered they were thought to be the first humans who used tools. Since then, Australopithecus tools have been found, and tool use by many different animals has also been documented.

Homo rudolfensis, a population of humans who lived at the same time as Homo habilis and were notably bigger and a little brainier. Does it warrant being its own species? That depends who you ask. Splitting vs lumping is a point of contention in almost every group's biology, and it can run especially high in the field of human evolution since hominins are A very high profile and important fossils that directly relate to our own origins, and B an extremely tangled group that seems to have produced loads and loads of isolated populations and subspecies that regularly migrated all over the place and had frequent interbreeding events. Personally I tend to come down on the side of lumping them into a few major species.

Paranthropus boisei. These were basically a separate lineage of australopithecines, quite different from our own ancestors, who continued to do australopithecus things until quite recently. They were very good climbers and seem to have returned to the trees.

Homo ergaster, either a close relative or a synonym of the more famous Homo erectus. This is the point where we got really brainy, probably figured out how to make fire ourselves, and spread from Africa to Eurasia.

Homo heidelbergensis. Homo erectus and its many subspecies spread all over Africa and Eurasia and existed for well over a million years. As time marches on and evolution did its thing, we eventually start calling the ones in Africa Homo heidelbergensis. They were quite tall, positively enormous compared to little Lucy a few million years back, and they too joined in the human migrations out of Africa. From the H. heidelbergensis who moved into Eurasia we eventually get neanderthals and denisovans, while Homo sapiens evolved from the heidelbergensis populations in Africa.

And there's the neanderthals! Large-brained and creative (the first known cave paintings belong to them and they buried their dead), they were likely quite different from the brutish image we often get from them. Rather than truly dying out, their populations eventually merged with the larger Homo sapiens population once they migrated out of Africa, leaving our modern genes with a couple percent neanderthal DNA.

Homo sapiens. And that's us! Not so much the last remaining branch of the human family tree as much as several of the separate branches ended up coming back together and weaving into a single bigger branch.

And then there's these little guys, Homo floresiensis! Probably originating from a Homo erectus population that ended up on the island Flores, insular dwarfism ended up making them grow quite tiny. On their isolated island, they remained until about 50000 years ago.

#human evolution #sahelanthropus #ardipithecus #australopithecus #homo #ape #primate #mammal #neogene #quaternary #palaeoblr #senckenberg museum #vicky's vritings

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xanthippe74 · 4 months

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Masterlist of my “12 Days of Fandom” recs, inspired by this post. As always, please check the tags and author's notes before reading. Enjoy!

🔸 Terminal Lucidity by @romaine2424 (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated G, 3K) This bittersweet fic has Harry putting his abilities as Master of Death to good use by comforting those close to death themselves. We see him at work here, adeptly easing the way for someone dear to him with compassion and care. I found this story incredibly moving and a beautiful portrait of family ties in the face of an impending loss. Featuring older, established Drarry and the Black-Malfoy family.

🔹 Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (Drarry, rated E, 46K) Gorgeously and vividly written, this university rowing AU drew me in right from the get-go, despite the fact that Muggle AUs are not my typical cuppa. The enemies-to-lovers tension is perfectly paced as Harry and Draco fight for the same spot on the Oxford team. Citrusses did a fantastic job translating their backgrounds and personalities (as well as those of other familiar characters from the books) into this world. Class divisions and the pressure of a highly-public sporting event stand in very effectively for Harry’s canon experiences. All in all, the story has the poignancy and drama of a lush coming of age film, and I can’t recommend it highly enough!

🔸 The Pile by @b-vul (Drarry, not rated, about 1.5K) This hilarious ficlet was born out of littlewinnow’s tumblr post about Veela!Harry performing an intricate mating dance to impress Draco. Delightfully, it’s from Harry’s POV as he blindly “trusts his instincts” to guide him into increasingly bizarre actions. And the evolution of Draco’s reaction is pure comedy gold. I’ve come back to reread this one a couple of times, and it never fails to have me in stitches. (The tumblr thread also contains adorable art by regretfulcorrine!)

🔹 Shine on, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (Drarry, HD Mpreg Fest, rated E, 42K) This is one of those fics that you can’t stop reading once you start (something I confirmed this morning when I went to skim through it for this rec and wound up spending a few happy hours devouring the entire thing again). It’s laugh-out-loud funny and deliciously smutty, with a full cast of delightful side characters and just the right amount of feelings. The story begins with the discovery of Draco’s surprise pregnancy, then switches to a long flashback of Harry’s gay awakening and his fast sexual/slow emotional burn relationship with Draco. The entire fic has a joyful feel—banter-filled pub nights, chaotic family dinners, audacious curse breaking—culminating in the baby’s arrival, which left me in happy tears and wishing for another 40K of this fabulous story. Featuring confident Harry, supportive friends & family, hot Charlie, and some shamelessly kinky Unspeakables.

🔸 Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (Draco/Ron/Harry, Dronarry Fest, rated E, 16K) Draco/Ron/Harry is not a ship I’d ventured into before I read this fic, but I’m so glad I did! Sweet’s writing always hits the right spot in my brain, and her alternating POVs and spot-on characterizations of all three boys are delightful. I especially loved Ron’s sexy self-assurance here. The unique magical theory around sentient houses is fascinating and ultimately poignant, once Draco gets to the root cause of the Burrow’s behavior. Sweet-sorrow surely lived up to her username with this one, weaving grief with humor and a heartwarming resolution.

🔹 Harry Potter Gets a Job (A 106-Page Comic) by dustmouth (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M) Dustmouth’s comics never miss, I swear! In this one, we find Harry overcoming his distrust of Draco with the help of the Weasleys, especially Ron (who is definitely up to something himself). All of my favorite Dustmouth elements are here: the expressive characters, Draco’s wild wardrobe choices, and punchy dialogue galore. Also featuring drunken shenanigans at the Burrow, adorable Teddy, and some first-class Slytherin-ing by Draco to win his man (and find Harry that job). What a treat!

🔸 the earth from a distance by spqr (Drarry, rated E, 15K) A whirlwind time-travel fic with breezy humor, bedsharing, and spqr’s unmatched smut with feelings… What more could you ask for in a fic? Oh, yeah: fantastic worldbuilding for Hogwarts in 1599, brilliantly clever Draco, and a dash of enemies to lovers. I can never get enough of this author!

🔹 A Year In The Life by @ladderofyears (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M, 19K) I swear, the author conjured a little bit of magic to write this story. It’s told entirely with 50-word microfics, one journal entry for each day of 2006 (an impressive feat, by itself!), and yet it reads just as smoothly as any traditional fic. Draco’s voice is perfect here, full of wit and subtle emotion, as his and Harry’s developing romance takes a sharp turn with an unexpected pregnancy. Draco’s anticipation, worry, and joy are mixed with deftly-chosen details of his daily life, all captured with Emma’s trademark tenderness and warmth. This fic is a perfect comfort read for family feels and gentle romance.

🔸 try to fix you by @maesterchill (Harry/Ron/Hermione, HP Snooze Fest, rated M, 2K) A beautifully and tenderly written hurt/comfort fic set in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron is the glue that holds the trio together here, caring for Harry and Hermione with gentle devotion. There’s no dialogue needed to tell this story, just Ron’s perceptive POV that captures the grief and love that compel him. I have a soft spot for this triad forming immediately after the war, as a way of holding onto each other and holding themselves together. Maester’s fic makes their transition from friends to lovers feel like the first step towards healing.

🔹 The Scent of Soft Rains by @dodgerkedavra (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated E, 20K) When Harry is left housebound and isolated by a traumatic injury, magical prosthetist Draco gets called into help. But Harry’s struggles go far beyond the physical ones. This recovery fic combines magical and non-magical therapeutic treatments in a way I can’t remember reading before. The hurt/comfort is just as it should be—both heart-wrenching and soothing—but there are enough surprising revelations to keep the story from feeling predictable. Draco is wonderfully unflinching and patient, and the ending left me crying happy tears. With lovely, restrained prose and vivid magical imagery, this one’s an absolute stunner.

🔸 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (Drarry, H/D Career Fair, rated M, 15K) With its intriguing careers, fascinating magical theory, and well-researched worldbuilding, this story captured my attention immediately, and the mystery at the heart of it kept me engrossed. This was one of the more thought-provoking fics I’ve had the pleasure of reading, exploring the intersection of magic, the environment, and colonialism. Harry’s first-person POV is lovely, and it feels like we’re learning to love India and the people he meets along with him. The getting-back-together romance is gentle but satisfying, propelled by pent-up yearning that’s palpable. There’s so much to enjoy here, all in only 15K words!

🔹 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (Drarry, H/D Wireless Fest, rated E, 22K) The first word that comes to mind while reading this fic is charming. First there’s the novel setting: a Christmas shop in the tourist destination of Cheddar Gorge, in the middle of a July heatwave. Next, there’s the shop itself, so imaginatively described and full to the brim with clever Muggle and magical details. Then there are the delightful OCs, Draco’s seemingly unhinged enthusiasm for all things Christmas (including ridiculous jumpers), and Harry’s complete disregard for professional behavior. But underneath the playful banter and humor, there’s also a layer of poignancy to tug at the heartstrings, especially when we find out the backstories behind Harry’s and Draco’s unlikely careers. And to top it all off, like the glowing star on the tree, are Joy’s exuberant, colorful illustrations. This is a Christmas-y fic I’d reread any time of the year.

Thanks to all these brilliant creators for sharing their work with us!

Happy New Year!

#12 days of fandom #2023 favorites #drarry #dronarry #harry/ron/hermione #fic recs

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asha-mage · 4 months

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WoT Meta: 'Salvation and Rebirth'

One thing that is fascinating to me about The Wheel of Time is that, despite the fact that the two of the biggest influences on Robert Jordan's cosmology are traditional Hinduism and Protestant theology (in general but especially American Protestantism), as near as I have been able to determine on my 20+ re-reads his world has neither a concept of karma or heaven.

Karma- the belief that your deeds in your current life will impact your rebirth in your next life (to vastly simplify)- is very Big Deal in Hinduism (and several other related religions, such as Buddhism- another big influence on Jordan's cosmology) and yet it is entirely absent from anyone's belief system in the WoT. No one seems to attach strongly to the idea that terrible deeds in your past life might be the source of your misfortune in this one, or that the reason to do good things in this life is to ensure a better rebirth next time. People hope for rebirth into a better life all the time, but they treat this as a capricious whim of fate, not something their actions might reasonably impact.

Interestingly though, some characters do subscribe to semi-related idea, not from Hinduism, but Christianity: Godly living. This is the idea that all troubles are self inflicted, and that if you just work hard, live virtuously, and embrace God ('walk in the light') nothing bad will happen to you ('you wont attract the Dark One's attention'). But their is no serious suggestion that this might be tied to past or future lives, and also the series takes great pains to demonstrate that it's wrong. Bad things happen to seemingly good people all the time (including Our Heroes), and if their is rhyme or reason to be found in it, it's usually the result of a working of fate so vast that the characters involved can not perceive it with their limited knowledge and view. This is one of those central themes of the series that I find so compelling and one Moiraine lays out in TDR (and during her confrontation with Logain in the show): The Wheel itself is not good or evil, it just is, and it weaves fate to a design so intricate and so massive that the human lives pulled about within it are given as much care as....well, as the loom gives to a single strand in a tapestry.

In the same vein the idea of a heaven- an enteral paradise, even just an intermediate one between rebirths, is also absent from Jordan's world building. Their is a belief that your soul will return to the nebulous 'Light' upon death if you where a good person and be taken by the Dark One if you where a bad, but no one seems to equate the 'returning to the Light' with being rewarded for good actions with a paradise where all their desires and needs will be meet, and where they get to chill out until, presumably, its time to be reborn. The idea of Heaven- that earthly suffering being rewarded after death with eternal salvation is a Big Deal in pretty much all Christianity but especially Protestantism, which fundamentally is/was about the idea that salvation could not be gate kept by earthly institutions and was solely the providence of God to deny or grant. The closest you get in Jordan's world any kind of afterlife is the World of Dreams, where the Heroes of the Horn (and only the Heroes) await their rebirth. But that can't properly be called a Heaven- not when nightmares walk it, and the conflicts of the living world can easily, and frequently do, seep inside. Not to mention any mortal can reach it without having to die- by just going to sleep.

And which, on that note, the very idea of the Heroes of the Horn is contradictory to the idea of an eternal salvation. In a system where their is salvation after death, the Heroes would be rewarded for their valor and heroism with eternal peace. Instead their reward is endless lifetimes of adventure, which means endless conflict but also endless legends and stories, as well as the chance to keep making the world better, righting wrongs and putting fate back on track. In this way the Heroes of the Horn are clearly inspired by the idea of the Dashavatara from Hinduism- mortal incarnations born specifically right the ship of cosmic order when fate/the world is getting out of whack. But interestingly, in Hinduism the Dashavataras (and the other avatars) are all Gods taking mortal flesh, and so inherently divine. This is an idea, once again, that many people in Jordan's world believe to be true (most notably the Prophet and his followers) but isn't- Rand isn't the Creator in the flesh, or a vessel of the Light. He's just a person, one whose heroic nature and kind heart earned him a place as a Hero of the Horn, but still mortal beneath all else that he is. And that fallibility, that reality that he isn't a God, that he can bled, be hurt, die, even turn to the Shadow- is a core part of understanding Rand's character arc.

One final thought on this (and the thing that started me thinking on the subject to begin with since The Fires of Heaven is where we are introduced to this idea for the first time in the books): there is something incredibly fascinating to me that to the characters in Jordan's world, the highest and most sacred oath you can swear is on 'your hope of salvation and rebirth'- which taken in the lens of our world are two fundamentally opposed ideas. For Christians salvation is eternal- the salvation of the immortal soul in Heaven free from earthly suffering. In Hinduism, rebirth by definition means continuation on earth, a chance to redeem past mistakes, to better the world, to make new good karma that will enrich your fate.

And yet, the characters in Randland don't view them as contradictory (or if someone does we never hear them voice that thought). Which makes me suspect that salvation and rebirth refers to the Prophecies of the Dragon and the hope they will come true. Salvation in this context is not the salvation of the soul, but the salvation of the world, the wheel, the pattern, fate- saved to continue on into eternity. Rebirth refers the hope you will get to be reborn again- which would only be denied to a person should the Dark One triumph and remake the world....or maybe even the hope that the Dragon will be reborn to save the world, to bring salvation to earth.

That would mean the oath came from a time when the Prophecies where fresh and new, before False Dragons tore countries asunder in wars and before hatred and fear of the Dragon had time to embed itself.

But by then, as often happens we are told, the origins, the why, where forgotten, even the tradition remained, and so no one realizes that, to this day, the most sacred of oaths, including the Three Oaths of Aes Sedai, are sworn in the name of the Dragon and on the hope of his coming.

#Wheel of time #WoT #WoT on PRime #Wheel of time on Prime #Wot Meta #Wheel of Time Meta #Rand al'Thor #Moiraine Damodred #I think about this series WAY to much #I don't think their are any spoilers in this so I'm going to leave it untagged #everything mentioned is either an idea the show has established or a vague allusion

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utilitycaster · 3 months

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ok just a list of even more questions re: Ruidus and its creation and society and basically everything

How much of the creation myths are true? Are bormodos descended from dwarves or halflings or something, or were they drastically changed by Predathos, or something in between? Were cytaa lizardfolk once?

Similarly are Reilora entirely of Predathos or do they have an Exandrian counterpart?

Absolutely fucking wild guess here that's almost certainly wrong but also this took place in the Founding and we don't even know how long the Age of Arcanum was; are bormodos and cytaa and reilora somehow truer to what Exandria was at the time, a la how the North American English accent is arguably closer to the 1600s British English Accent than many modern British accents are?

(my planetary science knowledge is limited and I respect if Matt "oh shit forgot about the polar day/night cycle in the summer in the arctic" Mercer decides to handwave that because frankly you can just say Magic! but why does Ruidus have similar gravity to the much larger Exandria as well as a seemingly comparable atmosphere)

How much of the "design" claimed in the Imperium's religion is in fact deliberate and how much is simply claimed? Are flares purposeful or involuntary? Are they made by Predathos or by the Weave Mind or by Ludinus's bullshit at this point?

Not a question so much as an observation but given that traditionally psionics are INT based in D&D and the Vanguard is sorcerers this explains a whole lot about how dysfunctional it is as an organization: in keeping with the sorcerer theme, it's the most "dish it out but can't take it" group of people that ever existed. You could DEVASTATE these CHA-based fools with a well-placed Synaptic Static, psychic resistance or no.

Did Otohan discover the method by which one became Exaltant via her experiences in the war? This would explain a lot and be literally by far the most interesting thing about her.

Literally though how would one of the Vanguard members who joined due to religious trauma respond to being taken to The Religious Trauma Capital? Are they all going to turn around and be like "well now I'm the one in power, so it's okay" (which is not uncommon as a response irl and would be fascinating to unpack) or are some of them going to turn upon realizing they're just trading one religion for another?

How long ago did the Vanguard and Imperium begin collaborating? For that matter, when did Ludinus specifically get involved given that only Exaltants could do anything with Reilora prior to the solstice?

The most recent Reilora Imogen summoned was not of the Imperium, but Kadija noted that the kinder Reilora Exaltants met in their dreams were sometimes replaced by more aggressive Reilora. Is it a crapshoot whether she summons a Reilora friendly to her cause or unfriendly? Is this also true of the Vanguard Exaltants?

#matthew mercer i am in your nonfunctional chimney #cr spoilers #btw stealthy tags bit but i think that post picking apart how dragons can fly bc magic is dumb #like if that's the point of your story yes dive into it #if that's not relevant then. it is FINE.

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cyn-write · 2 months

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The Little Cecelia - Chapter 1: Friends

Summary - Every 100 years, the spirit of the Great Seven and their Rival return. Sometimes, they attempt to right the wrongs of the past, get revenge, or relive the same story, but it all is the same - only one spirit gets their Happily Ever After. Azul has always had a fascination with the human world, which only intensified once he met a human girl, Grace Trien. His desires to become a Great Mage of both Land and Sea and to explore the human world and all its wonders with the Tweels and Grace by his side, but Prince Rielle is willing to do what ever it takes to stop the little Cecelia from getting his Happy Ending.

Masterlist - Next

Pairing - Azul Ashengrotto x F!Oc (Grace Trein)

Tags/Warnings - Friends to Lovers; Bullying; Grace is Trein's Daughter; Angst -> Fluff; Self-Deperication

Notes - I have been working on this for a very long time, and I hope you enjoy it! Grace Trein is based off my Oc Grace Wilde so if you want to learn more about her click the link, but you can replace her name when reading if you want to read it as Yuu or another name. This is only the first chapter of 11, so if you enjoy this and want to be tagged or have questions, please let me know! This is also on Ao3 if you want to follow it over there. Comments, likes, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Without Further Ado: Once Upon a Time.....

Every Merchild was told from a young age how dangerous the humans were. Parents, Teachers, Elders all told tales of the vicious humans who slaughtered merfolk by the dozens and the clever traps they would use to ensnare merfolk for prizes. Landfolk were all described as hideous creatures fascinated with lifeless contraptions. They were monsters… or so the stories said.

Despite the fear, some dared to have a fascination with the beings above. Azul has always had a fascination with the landfolk and their contraptions but stayed away from the shore out of fear. But sometimes, greater forces led people to face their fears. Forces named Rielle.

Azul was minding his own business, studying a new trinket he found that morning while the twins were off hunting for lunch. It was a triangle with a rounded bottom and a cone on the top that made things look closer when peered though. It had an engraving on the side of an odd creature with four legs and fins sprouting from its back. As he looked through the cone at some fish, he failed to notice the Merprince and his gang readying their rocks.

“HEY OCTOTWERP! CATCH!” Called the red-haired prince as he signaled the attack. Azul jumped from his spot and felt the first of the rocks hit is tentacles. He accidentally inked as he swam away as fast as his tentacles could propel him. “GET HIM!”

On the princes’ orders, the merchild brigade chased him away from the reef and towards forbidden waters.

“JADE! FLOYD! HELP!!” He called out, but the eel twins were nowhere in sight. He looked for another way out, but he was surrounded. He passed the ship graveyard, the kept forest, the rock grove. He could feel his tentacles strain to keep up the pace and all three of his hearts beating at record speed, but the tyrannical prince would not give in until he saw Azul crying and crippled.

“Come on Azul think.” He grunted as he weaved through jagged rocks. Then he saw the sea floor start to incline and a dangerous idea came to mind. Rumor has it that there is a cave that use to be the home of a long-dead exiled Sea Witch and all rumors had a grain of truth. As the rocks got bigger, he saw the carcasses of sharks and whales and knew he was getting close.

“Rielle! He’s heading towards the shore!” He heard Rielle’s right-hand, a flounder named Florence call out.

“Then hurry up you guppy! Don’t let fatso escape!” Rielle called back; his voice was getting closer.

Azul scanned his surroundings and saw it, a small opening underneath a whale head. He darted for the bones and heard the bullies change direction after him. In a last stitch effort to lose his pursuers, he took a deep breath, concentrated, and squeezed himself into the hole. It was a tight fit, but he made it. As he shimmied through, some of his tentacles loosened rocks that blocked the entrance, stopping his pursuers and trapping him in the process. The hole grew larger, and he let himself stop and hide.

He hid in the larger hole and listened.

“Florence! Get out of the way! I’ll blast my way in!” Rielle called.

Just as Azul prepared to face his death, he heard the distinct voices of his saviors “In where, Princie~”

“TWEEELS!” Florence shrieked in fear.

“We playing a game here?” Jade asked.

“Oooo~ I wanna play!” Floyd retorted and all Azul could hear was chaos.

“Your highness, we need to leave! This place is way too close for comfort.” Another of the prince’s posse, Sebet if Azul was correct, said. “Besides, they’re doomed anyway, let’s leave them for the fishermen. We can play with Azul later. He has to come back sometime.”

“Fine.” Rielle sounded annoyed then decided to shout, “YA HEAR THAT AZUL! SHOW YOUR FAT FACE IN ATLANTICA AGAIN AND WE’LL GETCHA! INKING WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS!”

“YA! WELL NEXT TIME WE SEE YUR FACE OUTTA ALENTICA WELL BE SNACKING ON PRINCIE!” Floyd called back.

Azul heard the group laugh as they swam away.

“Azul, are you in there?” Jade called.

“Yeah, I think I’m stuck…” Azul called back, choking on his words from crying.

“Hold on Zul! We’ll get ya outa there!” Floyd called, “I think there’s another entrance over there!”

“Azul, we’ll be right back!” Jade said before the two swam away.

Azul waited a few minutes before letting himself take a deep breath. A few tears escaped his eyes as he realized his doom. He was stuck in a cave. He couldn’t get out. The twins would get bored of helping him soon enough. And if he went back home, the prince and his school were waiting for him.

‘Would mom look for me?’ He thought as more tears streamed from his blue eyes, ‘She probably thinks I’m dead anyway…she’ll just try again with dad and forget I ever existed.’

His tentacles curled in on themselves as he cried. No wonder the other fry picked on him, he was just a crybaby, that’s all he’ll ever be.

Then one of his tentacles hit something… a vial. He looked up from his spot as his tentacle picked up the object. It was thin, made of glass with a cork keeping some green stuff in it. Then another hit a different object, a rounder, thicker glass container holding a powdery substance. Ever curious, Azul moved forward and saw more vials. Somewhat intact and held different substances while others were broken and had the contents spewed around them. The deeper he went; he saw more things covered in moss with age. Then he entered a larger opening, what must be the main room. In the center was a caldron overturned and around it was different objects.

‘The stories were true… this is the witch’s layer!’ Azul’s mood quickly turned from despair to joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m in The Sea Witch’s layer!”

For once he was thankful for his tentacles as he explored the cavern. He looked into different rooms and saw bedrooms, a kitchen, storerooms and the most wonderful library! In the library there where rows upon rows of spell books. He took some off and skimmed the contents. There where books for beauty potions, translations spells, identification incantations, and even transmutation! He was pulling different books then found a peculiar one titled “Cecelia: A History.” Out of curiosity he pulled it, and the shelf began to move.

A new, hidden tunnel appeared. It was dark and lead straight up, so being the curious creature he is, he went up. His amazement pushed his caution to the side as he began to think about what could be up there: magical artifacts, forbidden spell books, long dead secrets! But instead, it led to the surface. He saw the end of the water and paused. He had never broken to the surface before… but what could be up there? He was already here, might as well take a peek.

He took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head above the water. What he saw amazed him: another living space. It was almost exactly like the one below with a cauldron in the center and a smaller set of shelves behind it filled with things. To the side was a makeshift kitchen, a bedroom, and a sitting room with furniture made from the brown, rough material sunken ships were made of. After determining that the land was also deserted, he rose higher and got the courage to climb onto the land. His tentacles moved on the dry land pretty easily and adjusted to the sudden pressure quickly. After determining it was safe, he let his curiosity take over. He rushed over to the shelves and looked at the different books and objects. He picked them up and read the different titles, some were spell books, but others were books on human society. He made a mental note to read them later after he explored some more. Then he saw a necklace. A beautiful shell necklace that seemed to glow slightly. As his hand brushed the shell, then he heard a noise.

Crying, someone was crying. He darted back to the water out of fear and hid under the waves. ‘Someone’s here… I thought this place was aban- wait… that sounds like its coming from over there…’ He swam towards a second entrance to this place. It was vertical and there was a light coming from the other side. He went through the tunnel and saw the sand make a sharp incline up. ‘The Shore!’

The crying got louder and through the water he saw a small figure. ‘Leave! GO! This is Dangerous!’ part of him screamed in his brain, but the other part recognized that crying. It was a cry of loneliness. He clenched his fist and took another deep breath “Kept it.” He told himself then rose to peer out of the water. He peaked his eyes out of the water but that was all he needed to see the most beautiful being he has ever seen: A human girl.

She looked to be around his age, skin the color of white sand, golden hair like waves fell over her shoulders and hid her face. She had on a cloth thing in a pink color more vibrate than he had ever seen with a matching ribbon in her hair. He could see her legs, thin things that had the oddest fins attached to them with thinner tentacles on the end of them. Her legs were pulled into her chest with her arms keeping them close. He had been in that position many times before. Her sobs echoed in the cavern and made his heart hurt. Next to her was a brown basket made of the same particular material that the furniture was made of. Inside it were books and cloth wrapped objects.

He watched her for a moment and a part of him wanted to swim closer. Subconsciously, a single tentacle stretches close to the girl, and it wasn’t until he saw the black limb creeping up to her legs that he noticed. He wrenched the tentacle back and it caused a splash.

“Who’s there!” The girl looked up quicker than he could sink down. Their eyes locked in that moment, and he was stunned. Vibrant green orbs starred back at him. Filled a familiar sensation that he knew all too well: loneliness.

He has no clue how long they stayed like that. Staring at each other unsure what to do. She was the one to break the silence. “Woah… you’re a.. A mermaid!”

She moved closer and Azul sunk down into the depths, his rational brain telling him to flee.

“Wait! I-I won’t hurt you! Please don’t go!” He heard her call. He saw her legs running towards him in the water and he backed-up terrified. He was about to run, but what she said next would be the words that changed Azul’s life forever: “Please… I-I just want a friend…”

‘Run… Run…’ He thought, then his pesky hearts got in the way, ‘She’s just like me…I’m already dead anyway.’

He turned around and saw her lower half in the water. The fabric moving with the waves and pale legs firmly planted in the sand. He closed his eyes and slowly rose above the water. Her eyes shined and looked over him not in fear and disgust, but amazement and wonder.

“H-hi…” She said and smiled at him. She smiled at him. Then held out her hand, “I’m Grace…Grace Trein, what’s your name?”

She looked so soft and squishy. He reached out his hand tentatively, but his nerves got the best of him and backed away. She could see his hesitation and lifted both of her hands palms out, “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, see.” She wiggled her fingers and smiled. He was still nervous and didn’t move towards her but did speak up.

“a-azul” he said in a quiet voice.

“Azul? That’s a pretty name!” He could feel her eyes studying him and prepared himself for the hurtful comments on his weight. But she instead pointed to something in the water, “Is that a Sexton!”

He looked down and saw he still had the weird contraption that got him in this mess. He lifted it and repeated the name, “Sex-ton?”

“Yeah! Sailors use it to navigate!” She stepped closer and he moved back. She noticed this and stepped back as well, “May I see it?” She stretched her hand out palm up. He saw a silver bracelet on her arm that caught his eye. She saw this and took it off, “Wanna trade for a bit? I promise i’ll give it back!”

Curiosity won and two black tentacles moved towards her hand, and one held the sexton. He quickly took the silver bracelet and dropped the sexton into her hand before she could comment. He took the bracelet from his tentacle and examined the silver base and blue jewels embedded in it.

“Wow! You’re an Oct-mer!” She said, “That is so cool!”

He was not prepared for the comment and a blue blush crept onto his face. He was shocked to say the least, “Cecelia…”

“huh?” Grace tilted her head and repeated the word, “Cecelia… is that the proper name?”

Azul nodded and kept his head down. “Yeah…”

“Cecelia… That is really pretty, I like it!” Her face glowed as she spoke, all happy and joyful. It was completely different from the face she had when he arrived. She looked at the sexton and moved it around in her hands, then lifted it up and looked through it. The curiosity in her eyes made Azul want to ask her questions like ‘where is she from? Why was she in the cave? How did she find it? Why are you being nice to me? What do you want from me? Are you just being nice to my face or to lure me into a trap?’ but he kept his mouth shut and went back to examining the bracelet. It was very beautiful and simple in design, but even more interesting was the writing on the underside of the bracelet: Grace – Our precious pearl Love Mama and Papa. He ran his hand along the writing and felt the indents swirl with the letters.

Grace broke his concentration, “I was just reading about this!” He looked up and saw her walk to the shore with his trinket.

“h-hey! That’s m-mine!” He swam forward a bit as he feared she would run off with the sexton!

Grace quickly turned around and subdued his nerves “I won’t take it, I’m just grabbing my book!” She took out a green book from her basket and sat on the shore, “come here! I wanna show you something!”

“u-um…” Azul bit his lower lip before gathering his courage. This was going against every bone in his body, but he swam to the shore, “Ok.” The dry sand felt weird on his skin, but he made it over and peered at the book.

On the page was a four-legged creature with wings, the same creature that was on the sexton. “It’s called a Pegasus! They are magical creatures from when the great seven lived.” She said and tilted the book as if telling him to take it. He took it gingerly and felt his hand brush against hers as it transferred. His curiosity took over and he started to read the passage next to the picture. “According to the book, The Hero Hercules had a Pegasus who helped him on his adventures. I was reading about it for lessons today!” She was really close to him, and he could feel her clothes brush against his skin as she held up the Saxton. “Papa says that the Gods rearranged the stars so Hercules and his Pegasus’ could watch over humanity for the rest of time.”

“Stars?” Azul asked and turned his head to look at her, only then realizing that their heads were so close. Their noses almost touched, and she looked into his eyes directly.

“Yeah! The bright dots in the sky at night!” She says and points out to the opening of the cave, then her expression changed to one of confusion and realization, “You have never seen the stars. Have you?”

Azul shook his head and held his breath. ‘She is so close to me. Why is she so close to me. Whyisshesocloseto-’

GRRRRR.

Azul’s train of thought were interrupted by his stomach. His round belly grumbled so loudly that it echoed in the cave and Azul felt his heart sank. He froze in embarrassment. He was making progress with the girl and his stomach is going to ruin every-

“Are you hungry? I have sandwiches!” Grace turned to her basket and pulled out the cloth wrapped thing. She removed the cloth and handed him a dry sandwich. It looked like the sandwiches his mom sold at her restaurant, but instead of kelp it had a sponge, beige looking holding the contents together. He looked at her in surprise and pointed to himself.

“Y-you’re giving it to me?” He said surprised.

“Well yeah,” She took out half of the sandwich, “I have other snacks to if you don’t like sandwiches, Mrs. Hellen aways packs extra so I have chips, apples, juice, and some cookies!” She held out more food and he just looked at her in shock.

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” He asks quietly. This question made her smile fall and eyebrows knit together.

“Why would I do that?” She said, she shoulders slumped a bit and she looked down, “Being made fun of hurts more than being pushed downstairs, I don’t wanna do that to anyone.”

The glint came back. The watery gaze, strained voice, tense body, the pain… it is all too familiar to Azul. “People do that to you too?” Azul asked.

“Worse, brothers.” Grace said, “Anthony and Danny always make fun of me. They say I talk too much, or ask too many questions, or am too ugly to be a girl, or make fun of me for not having magic, or worse…” Tears started to form in her eyes. She hugged herself with the food still in her hand, “Ever since we moved here, its gotten worse. Mama and Papa use to step in and tell them to stop, but Mama isn’t here anymore, Papa is always working, and the servants don’t do anything… probably because they agree with them. Eli tries to step in, but he is too little to understand.” She then shakes her head and wipes her eyes away with her forearm, “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much, its not proper for a lady to talk so much-”

“Nonono! Me too!” Azul gestures to himself, “I mean- I like hearing you talk! People back home bullied me all the time! They say I talk to much a-and call me a nerd too! B-but they also call me fat and ugly, w-which is true for me but not in your case you're really pretty-but anyway! I get it! Bullies hurt…” Azul fidgeted his fingers and tentacles as he spoke and looked down at the ground, scared to look into her eyes.

There was a tense silence for a moment and Azul thought he blew it with his new potential friend, “…you think I’m pretty?” He looked up and her face was red, she was blushing so hard and looked at him in surprise.

“Y-yeah… you are…” He was really nervous as they were still close.

Grace loosened her grip on herself and the poor sandwiches and a small smile graced her lips, “Well… I think your pretty cute,” She looked up and him and their eyes met yet again. “And, I have never seen a mermaid in real life before, but after talking to you, I think Cecelia are cooler than regular mermaids.” She held out half of the sandwich and her smile changed from small to big in a genuine manner. And a weird thing happened, her smiling made Azul want to smile. The only people who have ever made Azul smile just by them smiling were the tweels. He feels a weird draw towards her, like a string pulling them together. It was a similar tug he felt with the tweels, but something about it was different.

Grace handed Azul half of the sandwich and he took it. But before taking a bite, she raised her half. “Friends?”

Azul felt his hearts beat faster. He was in shock; ‘Sh-she wants to be friends with m-me? Th-this never happens! I have a Friend! A new human friend! That means I have THREE friends!!’ “Friends!”

“Friends?” “FRIENDS!!” Two teal heads suddenly leaped out of the water.

In the shallows of the cave water were Jade and Floyd in matching sharp tooth grins.

Azul felt panic rise in his chest as the two swam closer and crawl onto the sand. Grace jumped with half a sandwich hanging out of her mouth. “moareyou?” She said with her mouth full.

Azul’s arms and tentacles were moving frantically, “nononono, please don’t freak out, they are my friends,” Grace took the sandwich out of her mouth and relaxed her shoulders a bit. “T-this is Jade and Floyd, they a-are my friends, and I guess your friends now too since you’re my friend, i-if that’s how this thing works right?” As he spoke his tentacles moved to exclaim his point.

Grace looked back and forth between Azul and the twin’s and her apprehension turned to a smile, “I-I have three friends, I HAVE THREE FRIENDS!” She was as excited as Floyd was. Her hair and bow bounced as she jumped. Her eyes sparkled and she tackled Azul in a hug. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! YOU’RE THE BEST!!!!”

Azul stood there stunned. Her arms around him and she was thanking him for friends. She moved on to hug the twins, but all Azul could think about was her arms around him and her eyes glowing in excitement.

“YAY!” Grace tackle-hugged Floyd and the two fell in the water. Jade chuckled at the sight and beached himself on the shore.

“Seems like you helped yourself Azul,” Jade commented and plucked some of the treats out of Grace’s basket, “You even found food.”

“Seems so,” Azul replied as Grace and Floyd got out of the water.

Grace squeezed the water out of her dress and hair, Azul couldn’t take his eyes off her and it made Jade’s smile grow sharp, “A human girl… interesting,” He hummed.

Azul turned to Jade and quirked his brow, “What do you mean by that?”

Jade shook his head as Grace came over to hug him, “Nothing, just interesting.”

Azul would not understand what Jade noted until years later. On that summer’s day, Azul’s life changed. He found an abandoned grotto he now called home, he started to seriously study magic alongside the tweels using the books and artifacts now at their disposal, and met Grace Trein, a girl who would help him conquer both land and sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @twistedcece @thisisafish123

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

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star-girl69 · 2 years

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this was requested to me in a pm but this is the gist of it-

aemond x f!reader who is the daughter of a high ranking lord who is close friends with helaena and the rest of the royal family, but has a particularly close relationship with aemond. he comes to her for comfort after the pink dread joke, she goes to him when she has nightmares about the day he lost eye, and they basically just slowly fall in love with each other throughout their childhood. later, it is revealed that reader is bethrothed to someone else. aemond freaks out and then typical aemond-ness ensues.

this is so ooc but it’s cute so whatever also i apologize for it being so long i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: violence, kissing, swearing, mentions of sex, reader cries a lot, parental neglect (kinda?), tell me if i missed anything!

You Have Always Been Mine

—-

The fire crackles as you stare into it. Fire has always transfixed you, which was probably why you were so intwined in the family of fire and blood.

You were the fourth daughter of a powerful lord, only good for being a bargaining chip in a marriage. Your parents had been chasing a son, but only daughters came to them.

When you first visited King’s Landing, you were utterly lost. By chance, you stumbled upon Helaena in the gardens, a spider weaving between her fingers. You were fascinated by her bravery, and she was fascinated by yours. No one would ever approach her like this- so boldly ask what she is doing. Everyone walks on eggshells around her. But you were not like that, and she found herself not wanting to leave your side.

At Alicent’s request, you became a part of the family. Your parents agreed to it, seeing as it was one less worthless daughter to feed. Helaena told everyone you were her sister, and it was Alicent who held you when you got your first bleed.

Until the day you died, you would always be inexplicably tied with the Targaryens.

The sun has long since set, and your handmaidens has retired shortly after. You had tried to find sleep, but it would not come for you. You figured some needlepoint would help your mind to calm, your body to lull itself into a state of sleep.

So, at this late hour, when you hear a knock upon your door, there could only be one person on the other side.

“Come in,” You call, and the door opens to the sight of Aemond Targaryen. He bars the door, walking over to your sitting area quickly. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

He always came to you for comfort- and you were all too happy to provide it. You were too young to truly understand what was happening, but your stomach clenched each time you saw Aemond, each time you heard his name, or even thought about him.

“They gave me a pig.” He settles down on the couch, pushing his head into your lap. You quickly move your needlepoint, afraid of accidentally injuring him.

“What do you mean?”

“Jace, Luke, and Aegon. Today, during our dragon riding lesson. They put fake wings on a pig.” Your heart twisted for him.

“Oh, Aemond.” Your fingers wound into his hair, softly scratching his scalp. He sighed into your touch. “I’m sorry. They are so cruel to you… I- I do not know why.” He keeps his eyes closed, and you don’t cease your scratching. “If I could change it, I would. In a heartbeat, Aemond.” He opens his eyes, and you move your hand to caress the side of his face.

“Sometimes I think you are the only one who truly loves me, Y/N.” He grabs your hand with his own, holding it there as if he is scared you will pull away. You would never, not unless he asked.

“You speak lies. Helaena loves you, and your mother does.”

“Yes, but not truly. Not as you do. You love me like you can look into my soul and see every bad thing I will ever do- and yet you still love me.”

“I doubt I could ever not love you, Aemond.” He turns his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Promise you won’t leave me to the vultures.”

You smile. “I promise, Aemond.”

—-

The worst day of your life was when Aemond lost his eye. The fear- not knowing if you would lose him. You knew even then that you could not bear losing him.

Even weeks after that day, you found yourself having nightmares.

They would start similar to the actual events, a servant telling you to go the hall- that Prince Aemond had been injured.

You were not sure if you would ever forget the fear you felt when the servant told you that.

You would run to the hall, tripping over your skirts and worry snaking around your throat like a hand, choking you.

You would open the doors with a bang, look around frantically until you caught sight of him sitting by the fire. You would be relieved, and run over.

But when you were only a few feet away you wouldn’t see the gash over his eye. Oh, he was fine. You would grab his hand, notice how it was cold and limp in your hands. Then you would look up, see a knife sticking out of his heart.

And you would wake up screaming.

Tonight was no different.

It was the last night of your journey back to the Red Keep, leaving behind that horrible Driftmark.

But tonight, you could not bear it. You needed to see him- remind yourself that he was still alive.

So, with shaky legs and a teary face, you climbed out of bed, feet padding against the cold wooden floor. The door creaked as you opened it, and you flinched, but no one came.

You crossed the hallway, opening his door as softly as you could. His did not creak, and you sent a silent thank-you to the gods.

You shut the door behind you, turning around.

You had just wanted to come in while he was sleeping, see that he was okay, see the rise and fall of his chest, and leave. But he was sitting up in bed, waiting for you.

“I heard you scream.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone could hear.”

“I would always hear you if you were in trouble, Y/N.” He seems almost bored, stating that as if it was a fact.

You smirked. “Even if I was a million miles away?”

He gulps and doesn’t answer. “What was your nightmare about?”

“It- I shouldn’t burden you with it.” You walk forward, standing next to his bed. “I’m sorry for coming.”

“Don’t be. Tell me, Y/N.”

“I-” You feel the tears fall again at even just the memory. “Instead of your eye- there was a knife in your heart. You were dead, Aemond, and I could not bear it.”

He looks at you almost placidly.

“I just came to remind myself that you’re alive.” You place a hand on his face, the side closest to you that was maimed. “I’m so sorry, Aemond.”

“Lay with me.”

You take a step back, and he lets you. Your hand falls.

“Aemond- I can’t… It would be improper.”

He scoffed. “That is nothing. I am prince and you are a princess.” You open your mouth to speak but he stops you. “Alicent thinks of you her daughter, Helaena thinks you her sister. And you are mine. My best friend, and no one will take that from us.”

Your tears multiply at his words, but they are grateful tears.

“Lay with me,” He repeats, and you climb into his bed. He shuffles over, and you press your head against his chest. Feel his heartbeat. Remind yourself that he is here, he is alive, and he is yours.

The moon comes in through the window, shining off of the wall you are facing. You tilt your head up, look him in the eyes.

“I wish I could give you your eye back.”

“I know you would if you could.” You smile, and something ignites in his stomach.

When he said you were his, something had ignited in his stomach. But you were here, you were next to him, and you were his. You were his in a way that ran much deeper than blood, than marriages. You were his by cosmic right, by some way that your soul’s were tethered together.

If he lost you, he would not be able to live.

But he pushes that away, because you were here now, you were next to him, and you were his. At least for now.

—-

You knew that the years had been kind to you. Men stared at you in halls, asked for your hand in marriage. But you did not have your eye on them. You had your eye on your family.

You did not want to think about marriage, about being taken away from them. It loomed over you, growing closer everyday.

You confided in Helaena, and she told you that you would always be sisters.

The stars have demanded it, that we be sisters.

Of course, you never quite were able to decode Helaena’s riddles. But you took comfort in it.

When you told Aemond of your fears, he had gripped his sword handle as if he could bend it in half.

You will always be mine. Don’t dirty your mouth with talk of another man.

If you were being truthful, the years had been kind on Aemond as well. He trained all the time, his body lean muscle. He was much taller than you, and his sharp features and eyepatch inspired fear.

Not in you.

He was still your Aemond, the one who held you when you had nightmares, who came to you when he was hurt by his nephews and brother.

You entertained the thought of marrying him in your most private moments. It would be a dream, you would stay with your family, and be married to Aemond. No one would be able to take you away from each other.

But your parents still had the final say, and you figured this was why they were coming today.

You stood with the royal family, in between Aemond and Alicent.

Perhaps he knew what their coming meant, because you could feel his eyes on you, tracing over your face.

You wish he could think you were beautiful like you thought him to be, but you would always just be his best friend. But, to even have a little piece of him was better than none of him. Even if you both married other people- you could never love someone like you love him.

The carriage pulled to a stop in the courtyard, and your parents exited. Their wish had been granted, and a 5 year old boy raced out of the carriage, rambunctious and entitled. Your parents gave him everything, but alas, you hoped they had softened now that they had their son.

“Daughter!” Your father exclaimed, and you stepped forward. Your had been in the same etiquette lessons as Helaena, the etiquette for a princess was all you knew. Your mother eyed you, picking up your brother, whose name you knew to be Thomas.

Your father grabbed your hands, looking you over, nodding to himself.

Your mother stepped forward as well, Thomas pulling at her hair. She ignored it.

“You will make the most beautiful bride, soon.”

You hoped it was never.

“Oh,” Your father spoke up again, putting an arm around your mother. “I cannot bear to wait any longer. We have betrothed you. A Tyrell son- the first son, heir to Highgarden! I guess he saw you at court, and came to us for your hand.”

You could not see straight.

“You will be the Lady of Highgarden!” Your mother seemed to be ecstatic, and you felt your heart break.

You could not. You would not.

You were frozen. You did not know what to do, what to say. Behind you, you could feel the tension from the royal family roll off in waves.

You heard Helaena’s soft cries, Alicent trying to comfort her. You turned away from your parents. although your father was mid-sentence.

“Helaena-” You rushed forward, taking her into your arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was all you could repeat as your own tears fell.

“Have we caused some upset?” Your father was confused, you could tell.

“Yes.” Aemond’s voice. Oh, Aemond. You could not beat to leave him. You were not sure how to gather your thoughts, how to deal with this new information.

“Aemond,” Alicent scolded, but you heard the tightness in her voice. “I’m very sorry. My Lord, My Lady. We have just been taking care of Y/N for so long- this transition will be tough.”

“I see.” Now your fathers voice was tight.

“We are meant to be sisters. The stars demand it.” Helaena’s prophecies have always worked her into a frenzy, and you squeeze her tight, trying to bring her back to what was happening. Although you wanted to fade away with her as well.

“Y/N, come. We have much to discuss.” Your mother comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Please,” And it is a whimper, a plea, said into Helaena’s hair as you bury yourself in her arms, trying to ignore what is happening.

“Y/N, I know this is difficult. But you will be married. The Tyrell boy is nice, and he will treat you well. Do not delay the inevitable.” Your mother’s counsel only makes you cry more, until she grabs you by the shoulder and rips you away from Helaena. “Insolent girl,” She mutters, keeping a death grip on your shoulder. She follows your father, and you look back.

Helaena is crying into Alicent’s neck, and Aemond’s jaw is clenched, face turning red in anger. He had not done that since you were young children.

“I’m sorry.” You mouth, and he does not answer.

—-

This is the longest you had gone without seeing them.

You had been with your parents, being prepared for life as a Lady.

But you were not a Lady- you were a Princess. Not in title, but in practice, and in your family’s eyes.

Your parents had told you to stay away from Helaena and Aemond, make the transition easier. It only hurt you all more. You wished you didn’t have to listen to them- that Alicent was your mother and she would protect you from this cruel fate.

Your felt horrible for thinking this way, but you could not help it.

The gardens were beautiful, and as you walked with Lord Tyrell, you came across the place you had first met Helaena. Tears threatened to spill, but you pushed them back.

“You are most beautiful. I am surprised no one has taken your hand yet.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Would it be improper to throw up on him?

“Of course, everyone thought you would marry Prince Aemond. But he gets everything. You know, even after he lost his eye, he beat me in a tourney.”

You remembered that. The only tourney he has competed it, before deciding he hated them. He had won, of course, and you weren’t sure why he hated them. But you would support him, always.

“Spoiled boy.” He muttered and you turned. He turned to you, a victorious smile on his face. “But, justice has prevailed. I get his woman. Tell me, has he taken your maidenhead yet?”

“My Lord, I-” Was he questioning your virtue?

“Well, has he?” You were too shocked to form an answer as quick as he wanted you too, so he grabbed your chin harshly. “Did he?”

His fingers dug into your skin, and it hurt.

“N-n-no,” You were scared out of your mind, and tears threatened to spill. He just looked at you like you were his meal.

“Shame. You will never get to know how much more of a man I am.”

—-

You aren’t quite sure what time it is when you leave your chambers, but it’s dark and the halls are devoid of servants.

You look up at the door in front of you. Aemond’s. Behind that door holds so many memories- and you think about leaving him again. You truly cannot bear it.

You knock, hoping that he is inside.

The door opens quickly, and he is out of breath. Lose pants, and a linen t-shirt, he looks like your Aemond. You feel tears well. You are leaving him.

“Y/N. I knew you would come.”

“Aemond.”

He notices your tears, and he draws you inside his chambers, barring the door. He holds you against him as his hand fumbles with the lock.

“What’s wrong, dōna mēre?” Your heart squeezes at the nickname even through everything. He teases you, refuses to tell you what it means. And you are leaving him, so now you will never know.

He draws you to the couch, sitting side by side and he pulls you to his chest. Oh, how perfect this moment is. But then you remember what Lord Tyrell has done- why you are here, looking for comfort.

“T-that man, Aemond. He is horrible. He only wants me to fulfill some grudge against you. He questioned by virtue- when I didn’t answer- he- he grabbed by chin, so roughly, and it h-hurt…” You can feel him tense.

But he just shushes you and lays you down on the pillows, wraps a blanket around you. He pulls his hands away and you realize he is leaving.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is small, and Aemond’s anger only grows.

“I’m going to kill him.” You shoot up, faster than lightening. He whips around, getting on his knees to calm you down. “It’s alright,” He whispers. You can still feel the anger radiating off of him, but he pushes it down for your sake. You grab at his collar, trying to keep him from making a grave mistake.

“Y-you cannot throw your life away for me.”

“You are my life.”

The ferocity of his words hit you, as he grabs one of your wrist’s holding onto his collar.

“Aemond… do not say things like that.”

“Why?” His expression is hard. He is glaring at you, but you cannot find it in yourself to shy away.

“Because I am to be married, Aemond. And when you say that…” It seems like you might love me back.

“What? Tell me, Y/N.” He takes one of your hands, places it on his face.

“Because it gives me hope. That you might feel the same way I feel about you.” And you cannot lie to him, so it all comes pouring out. “Do not say things like that unless you can back it up, Aemond. Unless you love me.”

He presses a kiss to your palm. He speaks quickly, needing you to believe him. “I do love you. More than anything. You torture me, haunt me with just the thought of you. I need you. I cannot… You said you would not leave me. Don’t.”

You almost do not believe him, it seems too good to be true. But he speaks with such conviction you know it must be true.

Aemond Targaryen loves you more than anything.

Oh, this is all you have ever wanted. All you ever needed. And now you are being teared away from him.

“It’s not my choice. I would stay if I could. I would.”

He leans forward, breathes you in. He knows you speak the truth, but he does not want to believe it.

“I love you.” It is barely above a whisper, and your voice cracks with the emotion your pour into those three words, but he hears it all the same. You think it is the most true thing that has ever been spoken.

“How can I keep you?” He places his face next to yours, trailing your jawline with his nose. You wind your hands around his neck, if only to keep him close to you.

“I don’t know,” And you are lost in him, and you cannot think. He is the most addictive substance, and you will need him again and again after this. “Aemond…” You feel his breath, heavy on your cheek. It is heavenly. “Make me yours.”

“You always were.”

And he draws you in for the sweetest kiss, and you are lost.

—-

When you wake, it is to the sun shining on your face. You remember last night, your confessions, and how Aemond had kissed you. You press your fingertips to your lips, suppressing a smile.

An arm winds around your waist, and you recognize it immediately.

“Are you awake, dōna mēre?” His voice is rough as he whispers into your ear, and you find yourself wanting to drown in it.

You place you arm over his, sighing. “Aemond.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to your other side, to find Aemond facing you. His shirt is discarded, and you trace the indents of his stomach and chest with your finger. You lay on his arm, his hand cupping the back of your head, lips pressing into your hairline. You could truly stay like this forever.

“I love you.” He whispers, and it is the sweetest sound. His other hand trails down, caressing your thigh and drawing soft circles there.

“I love you too.” You whisper, and a cloud hangs over this moment. “Lord Tyrell intends for us to marry, tomorrow. He says that he is entranced with me, that he cannot wait.”

He seems unbothered. “His name does not deserve to be in your pretty mouth.”

“They will take me from you.” At this, his arm moves from your thigh to your waist, tugging you closer.

“I won’t let them take you, Y/N. I swear this to you.”

Your parents might come looking for you, but you don’t care. “Can we just stay together, today? Stay in here?”

“If it is what you wish, dōna mēre.”

—-

The sun has rolled behind a cloud, giving the room some much needed darkness. You have done nothing but reminisce, talk aimlessly. If you marry Lord Tyrell, it is possibly the last you will ever see of him.

You have moved to the couch, and you are in between his legs. His arms wrap around you from behind, and you are at peace.

You wish to be with him, for today. It is all you have, and it is not enough, but better than nothing.

Aemond leans forward, presses a bare kiss to your shoulder. You have been sitting in silence.

“I can’t marry him.”

“I know, dōna mēre.”

“Can you not do something? Can your mother not?”

“I don’t think so,” He places his chin on the top of your head. “But I will think of something.”

You want nothing more than to believe him.

—-

A few hours later, you leave him and lock yourself in your chambers. You cannot sleep without him, so you toss and turn as you think of Lord Tyrell- and your approaching wedding.

—-

The next morning, you awake to your mother. She is singing praises, telling you that your dress looks wonderful, the gardens are decorated for the ceremony. You ask if Helaena and Alicent can help you get ready, and she tells you not to be stupid.

“They have more important things to do, my dear.”

“They are my family. I want them here.”

Her eyes narrow toward you. “I am your family. Your father is. And soon, Lord Tyrell will be. You will belong to him, and you will be most happy.”

“I love Aemond, Mother. I belong to him. I always have.” She purses her lips, setting a white dress onto your bed.

“It will pass.” Is all she says, and you cry while she helps you into your dress.

—-

Your eyes are still bloodshot, your tears have not stopped. No matter how much your mother scolds you, you do not stop.

You are crying as you are lead down to the gardens, as you sit there waiting for the Septon to get settled. You are crying as your father takes your arm, and you are crying as you walk down the aisle.

You pass by Helaena and Alicent. Helaena looks at you with so much longing, and you wish to fade into her embrace. Alicent smiles softly at you, as if to say: I’m sorry.

You notice Aemond’s absence, and do not blame him.

Your father lets go of your hand at the front of the altar, and you cannot look Lord Tyrell in the eyes.

“Why do you cry?” He asks, voice devoid of genuine concern.

You do not answer.

—-

The Septon is a old man, grey hair and bad posture. He sinks in front of you, looking sickly. It seems neither of you want to be here.

“And do you, Lady Y/N, take Lord Tyrell to be your husband?”

You do not answer.

“Say it.” Lord Tyrell whispers, and you feel physically sick.

“She does not.” You turn at the sound of his voice.

Aemond.

He is yours, and you are his, and he would never let you be taken.

“Aemond,” You whisper, and before Lord Tyrell can react, you are running to him.

“Y/N,” He says as you reach him, and you long to feel the press of his lips upon yours. You miss him, and it has been only a single night. You run past his extended sword, into his arms.

You press your ear against his chest. One palm laid flat over his heart, the other on his shoulder. He wraps his free arm around your waist, and you are reminded of the painting in the library.

Aegon the Conquerer, holding Queen Rhaenys just like this, sword extended.

“Lord Tyrell,” You can feel his voice reverberate through his chest. “I challenge you to a duel for Lady Y/N’s hand.”

“What is the meaning of this insolence?” Your father is shouting, walking towards you with a dangerous look in his eyes.

Aemond extends his wrist, so the tip of his sword is pointed straight at your father’s chest. Even from feet away, he stops. He realizes then, that this man would kill him for you, and you would let him.

“It’s alright, My Lord.” Lord Tyrell is smirking, as if he knew this would happen. You do not pay attention to anyone else, only staring into his eyes with a venom.

With Aemond here, you are not afraid anymore.

“I accept this duel.”

Aemond does not smirk, does not let anything be betrayed in his voice or face. He is only unbridled rage, barely concealed under a thin layer of calm.

“To the death of first bleed?”

“First bleed. I would like to see your jealousy when her stomach swells with my seed.” Aemond does not react.

He kisses the top of your heads, and pushes you over to Alicent and Helaena.

You look over your shoulder as you walk towards his mother and sister.

He is looking at you, and you know that even if he does not win, it will not matter. You are his by divine right, by the stars. You understand Helaena’s prophecy now, and she wraps you in her arms. Alicent embraces the both of you, letting out a breath of fear for her son.

Lord Tyrell takes his sword from it’s holster, mimicking Aemond.

They circle each other, and at first, it is silent.

The Septon has disappeared, you notice, probably thinking that this wedding is disgrace to the gods.

Your mother glares at you from across the aisle, your father watching the fight. You do not care.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch as I fuck her. You can imagine it is your name she’s screaming instead of mine.”

“Maybe I’ll let you live.”

His face drops, and is suddenly replaced with anger. He rushes forward, sword swinging overhead. Aemond blocks it easily with his sword, moving to the side. He crouches, foot swinging out to sweep Lord Tyrell off of his feet.

He falls, and breathes heavily. Aemond stands above him.

Lord Tyrell grunts, throwing dirt into Aemond’s face. He is disoriented for a second, and Lord Tyrell kicks him back, not being able to resist pushing him around.

But Aemond does not fall, and keeps on his feet.

Lord Tyrell chuckles. “You are a good fighter, Prince Aemond. A true dragon. But I know how to play with fire.”

“You would not know fire if it burned your face off.”

And then Aemond is leaping forward, engaging in a whirl of parleys and dodging, dirt being kicked up into the wind.

You can barely keep up, and realize you have been holding your breath. You let it out, feeling air refill your lungs. You imagine it was fire, and that you could use it to burn Lord Tyrell’s face off, and see if he can recognize it.

You almost laugh at the look of fear on Lord Tyrell’s face when his sword is knocked out of his hands.

He stands there, looking around desperately for some sort of plan. His sword is too far to run too, and his fists wouldn’t do much.

He looks up at Aemond, true fear in his eyes. You hold your breath. He could have another trick up his sleeve, but you doubt he is smart enough for that.

Aemond flips his sword around, using the butt of it to drive into Lord Tyrell’s sternum. He falls back, wind knocked out of him. He hits the ground with a thump, and you barely hear his next word.

“Please…”

Aemond lines his sword up at Lord Tyrell’s throat.

Then, he flicks his sword up and a small cut appears on Lord Tyrell’s chin, welling blood immediately.

“First bleed.” He whispers, and for a second, you are too stunned to believe it. He sticks his sword back into his holster. “Y/N.” You watch Lord Tyrell as he stands up, grabbing his sword and running away with his tail between his legs.

You run over, and he embraces you, and it is how it’s meant to be.

“I wish to marry Lady Y/N, as soon as possible.” Alicent comes over, bringing you both into a hug.

“We can start the preparations immediately.”

Helaena grabs your hand.

“The stars demand it, that we be sisters.” Her eyes widen and she nods, knowing that you understand now.

You mother and father walk over.

“We arrange this nice marriage for you,” Your mother is in tears, holding onto your father. “And you trample it under your foot. You are no daughter of ours.”

They stand there, wait for some sort of reaction.

Alicent wraps her arms around your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You will always have a mother in me, sweetling.” You thank her, and your mother seems appalled, but your father tugs her away.

Aemond kisses the top of your head.

—-

It is later in the evening, and you are flat on your back, sweating and panting. Aemond rolls off of you, breathing heavily as well.

He puts a hand on your face, so you’re facing him as he lays on his side.

“You were truly made me for me.”

“Dōna mēre.” Your High Valyrian is horrible. “What does it mean?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sweet one,” He whispers against you.

—-

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon

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aguacerotropical · 3 months

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tell me about vnc. the existence of your google doc full of references intrigues me (<- guy who has been studying vampire media for a While now). what is it about this manga series that compels you so. and what is it like, tonally. it does not look like horror but perhaps it is

oh DAMN now that’s a question that’s a bit hard to answer. Sorry for the huge almost-essay. It is my fave series after all.

First off, please start with the manga: https://thecasestudyofvanitas.com/ The pacing and tone is better. Newer chapters can be found on MangaUp and the raws are in some people's blogs. Just DM me.

Now, I don’t want to give too much away, although if you checked out my doc, there’s already a lot of spoilers and theories there. (There will also be a blog for references soon).

The manga is essentially a memoir, presented as a “case study” of Vanitas, a man who wavers between vampirism and humanity. He, we are told in the first issue, has been killed by the author, Noé, after, it is implied, turning into something not-human. Noé is a vampire and coded to be gay. Vanitas is heavily coded to be bi and queer gender-wise. They are both obsessed with each other to a degree that is unhealthy, fascinating, and not very straight.

(and there are many other queer characters, including nonbinary vampires and canon sapphic vampire couples who are key players in the series. It is weaved into the narrative).

The manga diverges from other stories in the fact the vampires do not need blood to survive and are more like reinforced humans. But there is an illness that creates uncontrollable bloodlust and results in beheading of its victims by other vampires. The cause is the main mystery. Vanitas, one of our two protagonists, is a vampire doctor who saves vampires from this disease with the help of Noé. So that’s a huge inversion of traditional tales right there, since most of them are about killing vampires, not saving them.

but while it inverts it in that sense, it follows up with almost every iteration of vampirism, including extremely fucking obscure references. Like, do you know what a Kresnick is? (if you do, i am in awe of you!)

And like my fantastic mutual @neversetyoufree (link) highlighted recently, there is the presence of vampirism as most of its past versions: disease, objects of prejudice, racist aristocrats preying on others, queerness, corruption of natural death, sexual assault, eroticism, psychic vampirism etc.

The neat thing about all these references is that they are well-thought out and woven into the tale. It isn’t BSD where it’s just There without any deeper meaning.

With regards to the tone, I wouldn’t say it’s quite straight up horror, but it does have many horror elements, as can be seen in the themes above. Like there’s various civil wars, characters have been abandoned and/or lost someone in horrific deaths, etc.

I guess it’s mostly presented as a tragedy. There’s exploration of griefs in all its forms.

And it is very very campy. It gets very silly and comedic sometimes, in between the fucked up parts of course. Tbh, that put me off at first, but I grew to adore it.

Personally, I find the queerness, the campiness, the takes on vampirism, the rabbit holes caused by obscure references, and (mostly, because I too lost someone) the explorations on grief to have been the parts that got its claws into me and never let go.

If you are interested in delving into it, please read the manga first. The anime is good, but it leans more into comedy, which is fine, but I think you would enjoy the manga’s tone more. The pacing is also much better. Newer chapters are on MangaUp, and there are blogs here that provide the raws.

Sorry for the essay, it is my favorite series! Hope you pick it up and enjoy the nonsense and chill fandom around it!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas

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mimicofmodes · 2 years

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I want to talk about the history of women's history as a field.

So the thing is, until the mid-to-late 20th century, there was no concept of "women's history". History was history, it was the sequence of names and dates from a time and place, and the relationships between those names and dates. Women were involved if they were powerful enough to influence politics, or if they were legendarily sexual or something like that.

In the middle of the 20th century, historians started to realize that you could analyze history in all kinds of new and interesting ways if you did so through the lenses of different social groups, or by looking at behavior rather than politics. There were also more women in academia, a lot of them second-wave feminists, and they started writing about history specifically in relation to female subjects (although male social historians of the time also discussed women as participants in society and in social structures).

The thing about history as a field is that it's always, always being revised. Historian A writes a broad survey of the history of weaving in Europe. Historian B builds on it to write about the history of weaving in Lancashire. Historian C does an in-depth study of three Lancashire mills and finds that Historian B was using generalizations that Historian A drew from Eastern European weaving centers, because there was actually significant variation.

So early social historians were starting effectively from scratch, and they found that women were actually treated really badly! They were often studying legal documents, which uh were not written by women and were often not written in women's favor or even considering women at all, and came to the conclusion that women were powerless and simply considered property. Then later social historians could look closer and go, "whoa! there's actually a lot of interesting stuff here!" In the Middle Ages there were legal documents pertaining to queens and noblewomen, for instance, that showed their independent financial transactions; there were wills written by women, and court cases that related to women even if women weren't allowed to speak for themselves in court. So people started investigating the agency women actually could use, and yadda yadda yadda women's history is now full of fascinating books that delve into the nuances of women's situations, which were always more complicated than "women were property, not allowed to learn to read, had to sit and do embroidery for hours." There certainly was oppression, but within it there was life. There always is.

On the other hand, you have feminist theory. Feminist theory writing doesn't use historical methods and in general doesn't put much value on keeping up-to-date with history scholarship. (I'm getting blunter as this post gets longer and my ADHD wants me to finish up.) The purpose of history in feminist theory is frequently to provide select backing for and illustration of the philosophical points of the writer. As a result, works of feminist theory are sometimes based on very bad history. On AskHistorians, there is an excellent review of Silvia Federici's Caliban and the Witch, a 2004 feminist theory text, that makes it clear how little attention Federici or her editors paid to contemporary or even decades-old history - because the history doesn't actually matter. What matters is the broader point about powerful male institutions mistreating women, which can be aptly illustrated by presenting witch trials as the male-gendered institution of the church attacking independent women just trying to cure ills with scientific application of herbs.

Where this ties into Present Difficulties is probably pretty clear. People who talk about how corsets and long skirts prevented women from moving or represent embroidery as a brainless task forced on women are coming from the perspective of "I know women were oppressed in the past and are oppressed now, so everything about their lives represents an aspect of that oppression in some way, particularly if I can make a good point with it." Trying to talk about the actual writings and opinions of historians on the subject is seen as problematic, because historians say that the situation is a lot more nuanced than that, and saying there's more nuance is taken as tantamount to saying that women weren't oppressed. It's intellectually dishonest, but it's compelling because of the outrage. Do women's historians now see embroidery as having been considered a form of art that was taught alongside academic subjects? Too bad! It's more rhetorically useful as an unpleasant rote skill girls were forced to do instead of learning or being active!

It's very telling that an actual historian gets dismissed as someone who just likes pretty things because she's familiar with current historical scholarship.

(I know some shit went down yesterday. I was fortunately out from about 8AM to 11PM and have thus seen none of it after my last post, but was given a few hints from friends as to what was happening. Neato!!! Anyway, I'm pretty much ignoring my activity page so as not to accidentally find out more, but if you saw anything that I said or that someone else said that made you go "hmm" and want more info, feel free to send me an ask.)

#long post #historiography #women's history #embroidery

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uselesssomebody · 2 years

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𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 - eddie munson x reader

complete masterlist | stranger things masterlist | eddie munson masterlist

"𝕨𝕖 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙 𝕨𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕤" - photograph | ed sheeran

words || 𝟙.𝟠𝕜

summary || in which eddie finds a picture in the reader's locker

a/n || alright i dunno the etiquette of answering an open-ended request like this but i wrote @eddiemunsonfix's open-ended request/call to action. i read it last night and absolutely adored it; i hope i did it justice. ➵ i just hit 400?? y'all i love you guys toooo much; i'll create like a prompt list at some point this week (fingers crossed) as a little follower special. thank you guys for liking my work enough to follow me - i appreciate each and every single one of you

request || "Imagine you and Eddie haven’t been dating for very long so it’s all still very new to him but he notices you have a picture of him hanging in your locker at school and he just gets all smiley and flustered and adORABLE SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS FOR ME"

warnings || fluff

"hey, good morning!" you lightly poked at his half-sleeping form, which had been slumping onto the library table the two of you were sharing. your first period had been a free one - and you were sure eddie was missing english for this, though no amount of convincing from your end had convinced him to sit through the boring lectures of mrs. o'donnell.

besides, what kind of boyfriend would he be to abandon his girl at her time of need?

"hmm?" he doesn't raise his head, but at least you know he's awake. it was, when you checked your watch 3 minutes ago, 8:47, and you knew for a fact he rarely woke up before 10:00, missing a large chunk of his morning classes. though, since he met you, he was quick to realize that that large chunk of classes were the few that you shared. since then, he'd been trudging to school early to sit through those periods with you - regardless of how tired he was.

though, you figured this was a solid arrangement for the both of you: he was waking up earlier and missing less classes, and you got his lovely company. of course, today that company was a little lackluster, considering his current, slumped state.

though, as much as you loved him, just his presence was probably his best feature during these - rather one-sided - study sessions. his input to your work always tended to come in rather long-winded book metaphors, or would branch into tangents about completely unrelated things.

you never expected that a simple question - more to yourself than anything else - about the structure of the government to lead him into a very passionate spiel about the failures of capitalism and the gory history of america, all supplemented by surprisingly good parallels that he drew from fantasy literature.

you'd listened to the whole thing, both enraptured by his intelligence and voice, and simultaneously in disbelief at the lack of his application in his english class.

unfortunately, that had come at the cost of a hurriedly written essay that evening, but you figured it was worth it.

you found your hand curl around the spine of the book you were studying, while your other one weaved its way through his hair, the black strands parting ever so slightly at the combing of your fingers, before joining once again. you had a fascination with it, constantly tying it up and the not, and you were sure that he similarly adored that fascination, finding a sense of peace settle over him whenever you played with his hair.

unfortunately, today that sense of peace came in the form of a snore emitting from the table. your eyes widened as you studied the slow, but steady rise and fall of his form, making you suppress a smile.

"good night." it was a whisper, as you went back to your book.

you guys had only been dating - should memory serve you correctly - for two months now. though, you guys had been friends for a lot longer, the both of you finding some solace in each other that wasn't really granted by anyone else at hawkins high.

you guys were different, sure, with your studious nature, mild clothing and soft smile a very direct and very visible contrast from his dark clothing and his held-back-for-two-years, outwardly scary persona.

though, you supposed that's what you liked about him. that you were the one to peel back his layers, you were the one to see his intelligence, and that you were the one to cherish his soft side. he was so unique, with a magnetic energy and a soft smile that left you feeling happy regardless of what your situation was.

similarly, he liked the sweetness of your tone, the adoration of your gaze, the way you'd do things like tie his hair up, let him sleep on your chest as you watched movies and hold his hand when you were stressed - without even realizing it. he liked to be loved, and you liked to love him - without any worry of what others thought of him.

when these feelings fester in a friendship, it doesn't take long for one - or, in this case, both, to be hopelessly enamored with the other in a way that friends really shouldn't. so, when you'd finally let it spill one night - you were absolutely mortified, sure that you'd just lost the best friend you'd ever had.

that was, until he took your worried face in his calloused hands, allowing himself to kiss you in a way he'd wished to do for so long.

since then, he'd been trying his hardest to be the model boyfriend, worried that - at some point - you would realize how huge of a mistake this was and he'd lose the best thing that ever happened to him.

everything was still so novel to the both of you, and, although you'd known each other for so long, it was hard not to feel as though you're being introduced to a new person.

eddie didn't mind - in fact, it made him ecstatic. he felt as though he got to meet you, got to know you, and got to fall in love with you all over again.

what's not to love?

the bell ringing signaled the end of your last period, as your entire class gratefully left mr. wright's painfully boring math class. you found yourself a little preoccupied with a test that he had assigned for next week, going over what content you'd have to study for it, when two hands wrapped themselves around your waist.

your squeak of shock quickly turned into a sigh of relief when you looked down to see his signature rings across the cinch of your blouse.

"god! eddie - don't-" he cuts you off with a peck to your lips, and your unable to stop your smile.

"how was mr. wrong?" it was a nickname for the math teacher after an incident two months ago, where he nearly failed everyone in the classes' tests due to an error he had made. the name had stuck, and you were just shocked it hadn't come along sooner - as it was pretty obvious.

"awful, but how would you know?" he holds his hands up - a playfully guilty look on his face. he'd gone to wright's class a grand total of 10 times the entire year, and it was something you'd lightly chastised him for several times.

your locker's being stubborn to you, and eddie's quick to step in and help; some of these lockers truly required a brute force to open, and his attempt similarly took a few tries. finally, though, the pastel door very creakily opened, allowing you to put your books away and collect your things.

usually, eddie would find himself twiddling his thumbs off to the side, or rambling about something or the other as he waited for you to finish up. today, though, his prior action allowed him a full view of the contents of your locker. he wanted to avert his gaze - although he knew you didn't really care if he looked in your locker, he still found it a bit of an invasion of privacy.

that's exactly what he's going to do, before his eyes stop at a picture attached to one of the shelves when you could keep your books. it was hanging on the shelf, allowing anyone who opened it to have a direct view of it.

he was uncharacteristically quiet, and you'd just caught onto it.

"everything alright?" you mumble, not turning your head from the books that you were planning on taking home.

"what's that?" his response leaves his lips as soon as your question comes, and you look at where his gaze lies, right on the picture that you'd put up a few days ago.

it was really cute - a picture snapped by one of your friends - you were pretty sure it was robin - as your entire group had been hanging out one late saturday evening. robin was a vocal supporter of your guys' relationship, bordering on the edge of sounding like a mom as she fawned over just how cute the two of you are.

that had prompted her to take the picture, wherein the both of you were sprawled onto the picnic blanket you'd brought, you trying to get some semblance of tan in the hot august weather and him absolutely ruining any chance of that, his head on your chest and his hair sprawled across your body.

he had a cheeky smile on his face - like he knew exactly what he was doing - while yours had a bright one on it, your hand resting on his cheek as the sun hit your bodies just right.

usually, steve would make some joke about leaving the photography to jonathan, but even he kind of gawked in awe at her perfect timing when taking the picture. you'd swiped it off of her, unsure of where to put it so as to cherish it best.

finally, you settled on your locker, liking the fact that you could get a good look at it in between your monotonous classes - especially on the days where you two didn't have many classes together.

you look at eddie to see him with redder cheeks than usual, a huge smile both present on his lips and eyes.

"it was from last saturday - remember? robin took it?" he did remember, but he assumed that you'd gotten rid of it, or that it had found its way into one of those drawers or boxes where you kept all your old pictures. but, to see that you had taken it and put it in a place where you could see it everyday made him feel like a boy with a schoolyard crush again.

"yeah - uh, you kept it in your locker?" you looks at him, unsure of exactly what he's asking.

"yeah, i did... do you want me to take it out? is it too public-" you go to grab the picture, but his hand stops you.

"no, no - i love it. you just - it's a picture of us." the last bit is a whisper, and there's a hint of pride in his voice. it makes you turn to look at him. he looks - well, giddy is the easiest way to describe it, with his eyes large and sweet and his smile stretching further along his cheeks.

"it's cute, right?" you mumble, looking at the picture with him.

"so cute." his voice makes it sound like he's exaggerating, but he's not - he loves the way that you look in it, and the way that both of you look. you notice his reaction, before also smiling widely.

"alright, let's stop by the general store before we get home." you know he's going to ask why, so you finish your thought, "we need to buy a camera."

eddie's quick to agree to the idea, wanting to see the walls of the locker plastered in pictures like that - pictures so innately them.

#stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn

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bradshawsbitch · 2 years

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international | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

disclaimer: y'hello, this is basically me writing down my maladaptive daydream so like yeah. this is somewhere between reader and oc cause I added some shit to the character. this is for my bilingual queens! 'reader' ain't from america, but u h h h yeah! hope you like it still!

word count: 3700.

warnings: cursing - a lot of cursing, mentions of eating meat, mentions of alcoholic beverages, a bit of self doubt if you squint.

plot: you're an international student, currently located in san diego. on a little sight-seeing tour you bump in to mr. hawaii shirt!

part 2

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

You almost couldn’t believe your sheer dumb luck. Was it years of hard work that finally paid off? Maybe. Was it divine intervention? Perhaps it was. But you could hardly believe that you had managed to go through the process of applying for an exchange from your University to the one you were currently sat in. Sunny San Diego had always felt like a perfectly good place to explore, and you had painstakingly went through many Universities’, reading their websites and the description of their international programmes. You’d looked at other countries as well, but you had secretly always been quite fascinated with the US - and when you received the e-mail that a university in San Diego could accomodate you, you’d almost screamed out loud back in your home country.

It had been a few weeks now. The semester had started, the weather was still warm as ever, and you had finally decided that today you would go sight-seeing. Spending the early morning at La Jolla Cove, you looked at the sea lions - marvelling at how cute (albeit smelly) they were, and enjoying taking the scenic route in the beat up, champagne colored, Honda you’d rented. It was automatic - something you weren’t really accustomed to (back at home you always drove a manual). Today was a day off for you, so you felt like you could really do all of the touristy things you hadn’t had the time for since you arrived before the semester started. Sure, you’d spent the first week seeing all the things you felt were important. You’d been to Cheesecake Factory (happily surprised with the hibachi steak you had), you’d been to a baseball game (it was fun! You’d gotten a little pin that said it was your first game), and you’d tried to understand american football - courtesy of a very drunk guy on campus who seemed appalled that you, an international student, did not already know the inns and outs of the game. The memory made you snort out a short laugh.

By the time lunch rolled around you’d gotten to Old Town, where you drank in the charm of the buildings, looking at trinkets in the shops, and stopping to gaze at the Whaley House. You’d never really been too into true crime, but even you knew about the Whaley House - and despite the warm weather, a chill ran down your spine. Shaking it off, you decided it was definitely time for some lunch. Milling about Old Town, you suddenly spotted a quaint little place that seemed to serve variations of tacos and burritos - which turned out to be the best damn burrito you ever ate in your entire life.

Continuing the day of sight-seeing, your little Honda puttered further down, weaving in and out of scenic routes and roads. You’d turned off your google maps when you left Old Town, wanting to have some spontaneity in your adventures. After quite some time driving (it was now afternoon, closer to evening), you found a parking spot to claim, where you figured you could continue on foot. Looking around, you’d managed to find a beach, where a small bar sat - music playing softly from within. Heading for the beach, you peeked inside. It seemed as if the woman inside was setting up for the afternoon and night, and it seemed rather empty. Perhaps you’d have a quick swim and have your dinner there.

You went for a quick swim, enjoying the way the waves cooled your body down and washed away the sweat and grime from having driven and walked around all day. Having a quick dry-off, you swiftly put your clothes on again (only stumbling once when putting on your pants, that’s a win!), and headed for the bar you’d spotted earlier. By now the sky had turned a beautiful shade of red, lilac and blue, as the sun set slowly. Making your way inside the bar, you managed to get the attention of the pretty woman in the bar - standing next to a man with dark hair that she had been talking to.

“Hi, do you serve food here as well?” you asked with a smile, nodding in acknowledgement to the man sat by the bar. As the woman confirmed your suspicions, you ordered something small and made your way over to the other side of the bar - you didn’t want to seem like you were prying. As your eyes scanned the shelves, seeing some familiar bottles and some unfamiliar bottles of liquor - you suddenly felt a strange need for a drink. You’d driven here though, so a coke would have to do.

As you waited for your food to arrive, more people were entering the (what you thought was a) quiet bar. Many of them were dressed in khaki. Now, you didn’t exactly have an impeccable sense of fashion - but khaki always made you think of Bella Swan. Her khaki skirt. Sexy, according to S. Meyer.

Your gaze roamed around to find a blond man throwing darts, his friend trying to mess him up by putting a hand in front of his eyes - to no avail though - it looked like it was a bullseye from where you sat. Looking around further, you spotted a group of people gathered around a pool table - and you almost wished you’d brought a friend, just so that you could play. Of course you could always ask to join, but you felt like you were too shy for that. You never wanted to impose.

Seeing a beautiful woman in a sleek bun walking in, walking with purpose towards the pool tables had you biting your lip. Why were all these khaki clad people so handsome? Was it a club? Your brows furrowed slightly at your own thoughts. Surely not.

As your head swivelled to thank the bartender for the food she’d just delivered to you, you noticed the door swinging open, and a tall form walking in. And boy, howdy, were you glad you’d decided to turn your attention to the door.

Never in your life would you have imagined salivating over a man with a hawaiian shirt over the top of a white wife-beater, let alone a man with a fucking moustache. But damn, this dude had obviously won the gene-lottery. A soft uttering of a curse word slipped past your lips in your native language, and the bartender, who had apparently hung around to witness your reaction, couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on your face.

But like honestly, you felt you were blame-less in this. The man stood tall, with broad shoulders and (when he’d removed his sunglasses) a face that would make a Vogue model envious. In other words, a man that would never in a million years go for you. You sighed, shaking your head slightly, picking up your jaw from the floor, you turned to order a drink from the bartender, only to find that she had moved on down the bar. You could only smile at your own behaviour. You weren’t a teenager anymore! Should a man really make you react like that? A man with a hawaiian shirt at that.

“That seems awfully dry without a drink,”

Perhaps you were having an aneurysm. A short-circuit. A power outage? The voice that spoke was soft, but the honeyed tone of his voice alone made you want to shiver. Turning your head yet again, your lips slightly parted in surprise, you were met by the face of Hawaiian shirt God, standing right there next to you. Blinking a couple of times, you took a quick look-around, just to make sure a Victoria's Secret model wasn’t standing right next to you with something dry that he could comment on.

“Uh, are you�� are you talking to me?” it might seem like he was, but one could never be too sure. Perhaps he was talking on the phone. Without headphones. You never know! Hawaiian shirt God chuckled and nodded towards your food and your apparent lack of drink.

“Oh, I drove here!” you smiled “I was going to order a coke but the bartender was too fast for me,” you said in a jovial tone, making sure to not make it seem as if you blamed her. Hawaiian shirt God furrowed his brows, leaning his frame on the bartop, twisting his torso so it was facing you (was it getting hot in here?), with a bewildered look on his face.

“You know you can have a drink and still drive home right?” you could kick yourself. You were used to the slightly stricter laws from back home.

“Oh,” you uttered softly “I’m not from around here. I’m not used to being allowed to drive if alcohol has even touched my tongue,” you joked, shrugging your shoulders.

“Could I perhaps buy you something to drink? Coke is allowed,” he smirked and your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his words. He wanted to buy you a— you blinked and took a steadying breath.

“I– yeah, sure. What’re you having?” you asked, your mind suddenly becoming blank. What did you even like to drink? It was as if you had never had anything to drink ever in your entire life before this. How embarrassing. He answered with the name of a beer you’d never heard of and you wrinkled your nose slightly. The laugh that rolled from his lips was divine. If only you were a stand-up comedian and could make him laugh all the live long day.

“Not a fan of beer, huh?” he asked, smiling down at your sitting form. You smiled sheepishly, shaking your head as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth to think.

“Perhaps a glass of wine?” you looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled in response

“Red or white?”

“White, please,” you smiled. He nodded and managed to make eye-contact with the bartender, who swiftly helped him with the drinks.

“Thank you so much–” you raised an eyebrow, your tone insinuating you wanted a name for Hawaiian shirt God.

“Rooster,”

Hold on. What? Like the animal?

“R-Rooster?” you were trying your damn best not to laugh. Laughing would feel like an insult to this poor kids’ parents. You knew some Americans liked to name their children eccentric things, but you figured that was mostly Hollywood.

His booming laughter at the way you hesitantly stuttered his name had your cheeks warm with embarrassment, and you averted your gaze down to your finished plate of food.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, my name’s Bradley. I’ve gotten so used to being called Rooster so– I figured not too many civilians would find their way into the Hard Deck,” he smiled, and it seemed as if he was trying his hardest not to seem like he was mansplaining his name to you. Bradley. Alright, maybe his parents did love him after all.

“Oh, well thank you then, Bradley,” you smiled uncertainly “and uh- well I guess I am a civilian, I’ve been sight-seeing all day so you might even smack me in the face with ‘tourist’ as well if you want,” you joked. Again, that chuckle was endearing as all hell. You had no idea what he meant by civilian, but you didn’t want to seem any more dumb by asking what he meant by that.

He searched your face for a little while, letting silence fall between the two of you for a short moment - a moment where you yet again could hear the background noise, the drunk singing, the cheering for the people who played pool (you guessed this is why people were cheering, but you were also quite certain you’d heard a bell being rung as well). And in the midst of the noise, you could vaguely make out words of conversations that happened around you - catching words such as ‘naval’, ‘officer’ and ‘lieutenant’.

“Ohh,” you uttered softly, understanding, quickly checking out a person wearing khaki who passed by you. Of course. It was a uniform! You figured the woman who wore her hair in a tight bun was just a woman who wanted to flaunt her immaculate cheekbones, but now it seemed more likely that they were probably military. How did this always manage to happen to you?

“Are you in the army?” you blurted out, and he at first looked amused, but then borderline offended. Shit. Did you do the ol’ foot-in-mouth now? You knew absolutely nothing about the US military, you didn’t even know shit about your military back home.

“I’m a naval aviator,” he responded with a small smile, his body language telling you he wasn’t all too keen to brag. Even though it was undoubtedly impressive.

“I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I know I joked about being a tourist earlier but I sort of am - I mean, I’m an international student–” you were struggling to find words that didn’t make you sound unbelievably stupid, but sometimes when you had to talk fast, it was as if all the english you’d ever learnt fell out of your vocabulary, and you wanted nothing more than to blurt out some familiar words from your native language.

“Are you old enough to be in here?” he asked as you mentioned you were a student. Now it was your turn to be offended. You were nearing your thirties thank you very much.

“I’m working towards a master of science, so I’m definitely old enough to be in here, thanks” you explained, narrowing your eyes slightly at him, a smirk playing on your lips. He smiled at you again before sipping his beer.

“I never caught your name, sweetheart,” he continued.

“You never asked,” you replied, only slightly letting your tone hint at flirting as you sipped your wine, keeping eye contact with him over the rim of your wine glass.

“I’m asking now,” God, the way his voice had lowered and became slightly husky should be illegal. You could feel your body react unceremoniously to the sound of his voice, and you had to lick your lower lip as you pondered how to answer. Should you say your name with like, an American accent? Should you say it as you would usually at home?

You settled on the latter. You didn’t have the confidence to pronounce it like an American would.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” you repeated it, slowly, and jokingly said that he was allowed to call you your nickname if he was in a hurry. He laughed at that. You enjoyed making him laugh. His eyes looked so pretty when they lit up in the dim bar-light.

You smiled up at him, and you were just about to initiate another topic of conversation, when his name was called from across the bar.

“Rooster, is this how I find out you’re state-side?” It was the beautiful woman with a tight bun. Damn.

“I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a second?” he smiled at you, and seemed glad to have seen his friend. You nodded quickly “Absolutely!”

And he was gone. Fuck. That was the most exhilarating experience you’d had in a while and you’d let him slip away! It wasn’t as if he was going to drag you out back and take you against the wall (but damn if he wanted to you wouldn’t say no), but still - you had liked how confidently he’d approached you and how sweet he had been about buying you something to drink. You stared at said drink now, swirling the wine slowly in the glass that was now half full - you took a sip as your eyes wandered across the room. The bar had a warm, familiar feeling - even though this was your first time being there. You wouldn’t mind spending more time here. Perhaps they were looking for help - you had bartended before.

Shaking your head, you took another sip of your wine. Rooster had said you could drive home after a drink, but you felt like perhaps it would be wise to wait a little while after finishing your drink before you hit the roads. But now you didn’t have the company of Bradley to keep you occupied, and you heaved a small sigh as you brought out your phone to scroll through social media, checking your instagram story from earlier during the day.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of ‘Slow Ride’ was cut short, and you heard the soft notes of a piano being played. Looking up, you quickly found that the source of the sounds was Bradley, his shade having slid down to rest on his nose. Jesus, was he aware what the hell he was doing? Probably. He smiled as he spotted you, and you couldn’t help but smiled back before he turned his attention to the people standing around him as he started to sing.

This motherfucker needed to slow down. If he wasn’t careful he’d catch a wife. With a voice like that, his endearing approach and fucking insane looks he was surely very popular. If he even mentioned he liked literature or cuddling, you’d be done for.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered, downing the rest of your wine in one go, letting the glass hit the bartop with a bit more force than you’d first intended. A familiar laughter permeated the air, and the bartender woman was stood in front of you again - ready to collect your glass. No doubt she needed it clean for the next round of costumers.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” she smiled at you, and you could only nod.

“Is he always like this?” you inquired and she laughed again.

“Well, I haven’t seen him in quite a while but yeah, I think so,” she smiled at you “But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him buy anyone a drink quite this quick before,” she winked at you, making your cheeks warm up again.

“Hey, would you ever need help around here?” you found the courage to ask “I’ve bartended before, and I make a mean whiskey sour,” you smiled. She pondered your offer for a while before answering,

“Let me think on it. Why don’t you come in tomorrow and we can talk about it?” you nodded and thanked her.

The smile on the bartenders lips widened (Penny, you found out her name was,) as her gaze lifted from you, to something above and behind you. Furrowing your brows, you twisted around to see Bradley stood behind you again.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry about that,” he smiled at you. Damn. He found you again?

“Don’t… worry about it,” it almost sounded like a question.

“You up for a game of pool?” he questioned, before ordering another beer “More wine?” he asked you, leaning slightly over you, letting his arm brush against yours.

“I probably shouldn’t…” you trailed off, biting your lip in contemplation.

“Come on… stay a while,” he smiled softly at you, his brown eyes twinkling all prettily again.

“Alright then, but I can buy my own drink,” you insisted, but he just shook his head.

Spending time with Bradley felt as easy as breathing, and as the two of you played together, you made easy conversation. Turned out he was quite fond of literature (fuck), and that he was quite fascinated by your field of study (fuckin’ hell). As you missed your third shot, a colorful curse word slipped past your lips and Bradley laughed loudly.

“I can’t believe I missed that!” you complained, throwing your head back, agitated. You were not necessarily a sore loser, but you felt like you were pretty alright at the game and could do better.

“You didn’t have the angle quite down,” Bradley said with a shrug, and you narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Oh, show me how it’s done then,” you mocked him, offering him the table.

“Yeah, I think I will,” he smirked, grabbing a hold of your arm, and placing himself behind you - his chest pressed against your back. For the umpteenth time that night, your breath was hitched somewhere in between your lungs and your mouth. You could feel rather than hear Bradley chuckle against you, his lips now close to your ear as he whispered “More like this,” before stepping slightly to your side, one hand on your hip to lean you over the pool table. Fuck. Fucking fuck. With Bradley’s help, unfortunately you made the shot perfectly. Straightening up, you turned slowly, facing Bradley’s chest before looking up at him.

“That was good, sweetheart,” he praised. Jesus. Your thighs were clenching against your will and you had to swallow before an airy laugh slipped past your lips. You were so close. One of his hands still rested on your hips, the other now rising slowly to brush a strand of hair out of your face - helping it rest behind your ear. The tips of his fingers ghosting against your neck. Holy crap. You hoped he’d kiss you. His eyes searched yours, a small smile playing on his lips, and it felt as if he was inching closer to you.

Suddenly the cleaning lights unceremoniously lit up the bar. Damn. You hadn’t even noticed the last call. You swore you heard Bradley utter a soft “fuck” but you might’ve imagined it.

There was a general stir, as people hurried to finish their drinks and make their way out of the bar.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Penny called to you, and you smiled and nodded towards her before turning back to Rooster, who had taken a step away from you. Damn.

“You’re coming here tomorrow?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at him like he hung the moon.

“Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he inquired as the two of you made your way out of the bar and out in to the chilly night.

“But uh… just in case I don’t… could I maybe have your phone number?” he continued hurriedly. You blinked slowly, before a large grin found its’ way onto your lips.

“Yeah!” you exclaimed breathlessly, holding your hand out for his phone. He smiled as you put in your contact, and the two of you just smiled awkwardly for a moment before parting ways.

God, what a great adventure you’d had - you thought as you giggled and danced your way back to your Honda, giddy after having given Rooster your number. You were looking forward to spending more time at the Hard Deck if it meant meeting Bradley more.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #alex writes

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stagefoureddiediaz · 1 year

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Hello to the almost same jacket for Eddie!!! Aisha and Anirudh really are the A team today - giving us all the goods!!! Aisha is doing gods work making sure we all understand that wardrobe really do think of everything and that colour and fit is very carefully chosen - Thank you queen!

the cuffs are different, so it isn’t the same jacket (also the fabric is a bit different - its hard to tell from the IG live still, but it isn’t herringbone weave like the 6x05 one is) but its close enough to draw a few parallels 🤓😎

first things first though - No watch Eddie 👀👀👀👀👀

Right jackets - fun things!! the khaki olive drab green is a very Eddie colour, but the fact we have a jacket cut in aa very similar style to the one form 6x05 is very interesting. the scene we see the 6x05 one in is very focused on Eddie being with Hen and Karen and them displaying their love and pride in one another. Obviously the scene is very much centred on hen moving on from firefighting (setting up 6x06 and her changing her mind) but the Eddie part of that scene is centred on the joyful expression of Queer love and him witnessing it.

One of the key things about this colour way on Eddie when he’s wearing it as a jacket is that it is both his comfort blanket and an indicator of his mental health. Eddie has only really started wearing these olive drab jackets in season 5 - the one exception being 3x12 when he goes to apologise to Ana for overreacting about Chris!

as a result we invariably see Eddie in the olive drab colour jackets when he’s either struggling mentally - 5x10 quitting the 118, 5x11 not going to the bar or at the Equestrian centre in 5x14 - or when he’s not necessarily struggling mentally per say, but something in the scene is important for Eddies storyline in connection with his mental health - such as in the scene from 6x05. The difference in them to be found is in the fit - the silhouette - the ones from season 5 are all much more loose fitting - oversized, and help make him look either ill (Equestrian centre jacket I’m looking at you!!) or like he’s trying to protect himself in some way. this makes total sense when you combine the choice of olive drab as a colour and Eddies military background!

So I am going to go out on a bit of a limb (as I have zero script context to work with here which always makes costume speculating a bit more difficult) and say that this new but slightly different jacket will be bringing us something in the same ball park as that one from 6x05 - especially if we are getting a firefam leaving at the end of the day or arriving in the morning scene from this - or something similar (because they wouldn’t be in the firehouse if that wasn’t the case!!) because it is better fitted than the season 5 ones, but its still olive drab. This being for either 6x17 or 6x18 is pretty important - Love is in the air, or pay it forward - really plays into that idea of something in a scene being important for Eddies journey in connection with his mental health - if its some form of coming out arc for him then I will be partying hard over the fact that the wardrobe team have subtly been showing us the way through Eddies olive drab jackets!!!

Then of course there is the fact that Buck is back in light blue - for the millionth time in season 6!!! If you’ve been reading my other costume metas from season 6 you will know I’ve been fascinated by the use of Blue on Buck in this season (metas can be found on my pinned post if you want a read!), especially pale blues and I’m very 👀👀 over the fact he’s still in pale blue at the end of the season! Also the white high tops are still there and they mean Buck moving forward on his journey - so combined with the pale blue - I’m very very excited!!!

#kym costume meta #kym costume thoughts #911 costumes #911 costume meta #911 spoilers #buddie costumes #Eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on fox #911fox #Eddies green jackets!#Buck in blue

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headsincloud9 · 1 year

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HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!! TO ALL THE MOM!

This is a small drabble that turned long and was late to the party but still

summary: Neytiri’s first Mothers Day

Paring: Mom Neytiri xOc daughter Kilsyi platonic loving family (with dad Jake making an appearance)

Warnings: none besides loving family dynamics fluffy

Neytiri’s First Mother's Day

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Kílsyí had been hanging around the labs when the time of great sorrow had passed, things were being rebuilt and life had regained a small sense of calm and normalcy. She had heard many talking about their mothers and what they would have gotten them for a day called Mother’s Day. Kílsyí listened with interest tilting her head as she pretended to focus on the things in front of her. She tried to remember, did they have a custom like that? At this moment she would have run to her sempul and asked him a thousand different questions but she unfortunately could not not without an escort. To the tree.

Kílsyí hisses in frustration drawing attention to herself and she looks up as Norm calls her name. She looks down in embarrassment and shakes her head walking out, she didn’t want them to know who had been listening so she went to go find Jake.

Kílsyí found him after some time cleaning a weapon. It was definitely from the sky people. “Jake……I wanted to ask something,” she asked nervously. He stopped what he was doing looking at the young Na’vi girl he had adopted with concern as she looked nervous. “ what is it lsyi “ he asks using her nickname as he had once which was a term of love from him to her “I want to ask about what the humans said something about Mother’s Day and it seemed super important because they made a big deal about it so i want to know what it is.” She says he looked shocked and chuckled at her curious mind. He stopped what he was doing and motioned her to sit “ Mother’s Day is a holiday on earth where I'm from that celebrates mothers of every generation young and old. You get them nice things, gifts and flowers, some even get special dinners made, the day is all about them and what they want to do as a thank you for doing all they do the rest of the year. “ he explains the best he can to her. He watched as her eyes shone with fascination at his words and she smiled “ oh i see thank you and it's supposed to be on a Sunday which is in a few days thank you Jake you are the best “ she gives him a hug and gets up running off.

First on her list was something nice: a gift, a necklace with her favorite beads. Kílsyí took her time finding the best materials to make the gift she wanted; she tucked herself away from any prying eyes that might tell her adoptive mother. She worked tirelessly weaving and unweaving the same necklace almost 50 times before getting it perfect. She sighs and puts the necklace in her pouch keeping it close so it would not be found. She slowly made her way home seeing Jake and Tiri and baby Neteyam cradled against Tiri. “Oh ma Kílsyí you are home where were you I came to get you but you were gone”. Neytiri asks. She stops and looks down “ I'm sorry I was sleeping” she lies through her teeth and instantly feels bad. She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to ruin her plans either. She sighs when Neytiri seems to be satisfied but Jake looks suspicious. She gave a desperate look for him not to press and her heart soared as he let it go.

Kílsyí sighs helping Neytiri clean up and quickly goes to bed in her mind planning to ask the Tsahik Neytiri’s mother to teach her to cook Tiri’s favorite meal and tell her which fruit was her favorite. Then she had to get an escort to the woods to gather the fruit and flowers.

Kílsyí ran to Mo’at as early as she knew she would be up early as well. “Grandmother, I need your help. Can you please teach me Tiri’s favorite dinner and fruit? '' she begs, hoping she could start her duties just a little later today. Mo’at stared at the girl wondering what she had planned for her daughter but she could tell that whatever it was was going to mean a lot to them both. “Alright my little one i can show you how” she says leading her inside.

Kílsyí made sure to remember everything she was told how to smoke the teylu, which fruit to pick. Time flew by and she sighs knowing the Tsahik couldn’t be gone long “thank you for the help I will let you work” she says skipping out of her home only to run into Jake. She gasps, putting the pouch behind her full of spices and her instructions, Jake raises a brow and chuckles “ so this is where you went…..so are you going to tell me what going on? Neytiri was worried when she didn’t see you this morning” he says, kneeling. Kílsyí looked down and sighs not realizing that her own excitement got in the way of her own thinking. “ i wanted to do Mother’s Day for Tiri she has always been there for me and i want to say thank you so i made her a necklace and found her favorite dinner and fruits….i just have to figure out how to get the fruit and teylu” she rambles hoping she wasn’t told to stop.

A chuckle broke the silence and a hand on her shoulders “you do have the biggest heart…. How about I help you? We can go get the fruit and hunt the teylu together and I'll even help you cook. We can spend the day making it all about her….. Mother’s Day is about the entire family appreciating her”. Jake suggests. Kílsyí beams with joy and nods “lets go late so that way she can have fruit in the morning” she suggests her tail “swaying eagerly. He chuckles “ alright kid”

Night soon came and Kílsyí was excited to pick fruit with Jake recalling when Neytiri loathed him and Kílsyí giving him extra lessons on language just to help. They had fun bonding as family for the first time just with them and she found she could rely on him as well. “ So I will get up early to cut fruit to make sure Tiri doesn’t go to hunt early so don’t snore so much” she teases him but seriously. She was nervous. Jake laughs “ easy baby girl i got this. “ he says and she nods going to her bed to sleep.

Kílsyí was the first to get up; she grabbed Neytiri’s cutting knife and began to cut up all the fruits she liked. The pieces were uneven and a bit messy but she managed. Her heart was racing as she ran out of her little home to get the flower she found, the only one it was very pretty.

She came back hearing laughter and talking, Jake did it well it wasn’t hard Tiri adores Jake and he was the Leader of the clan if he said she could stay in bed she would. “I promise if you stay in bed a little longer it will be worth it” she heard his vice ring out. Kílsyí ran into view with a serving leaf full of messily cut fruit “ Tiri! Look. I picked and cut all your favorite fruit” she beams, holding it out for a rather shocked Neytiri.

The older Na’vi woman looked so surprised and confused as she was able to stay in bed with Jake and now little Kílsyí, her little shadow, a surrogate niece turned adopted daughter came running in with fruit her favorite all cut up ready to eat. “This is for me? What made you want to do this?” She was confused about taking the food while Jake held baby neteyam. Kílsyí said nothing and waited for her to eat smiling happily seeing Tiri eat the fruit and enjoy it. Kílsyí crawled into the shared hammock and gave a smile to a very confused Tiri “ Next we can do whatever you want Tiri any of your favorite things “ she says. Now Neytiri stopped them both with her stern face demanding an answer as to why she had no duties today. “ Is something wrong?!” She panicked. Kílsyí shook her head “ no i just wanted to….i” she was getting shy and nervous. She held out the flower saying nothing. “ Our daughter heard about a holiday of the sky people a day every year that celebrates Mothers, Grandmothers of all kinds and she took it upon herself to make the day for you. She asked Mo’at for your favorite foods and fruits…..she enlisted me to help cook and keep you here as well as celebrate” Jake explains for a very tongue tied Kílsyí.

Warm arms embraced her “ oh my ‘ite you think of me as a mother” she asked and Kílsyí hugs her back just as tightly “ the best mom you helped my sempul when he had to hunt and do work and couldn’t take me with him, you helped me track better and kept me safe when home was taken….i know i have a Sa nok with Eywa and i love her but Tiri you are my mom i would be sad if I didn’t have you” she says. Neytiri cried as she heard those words. Kílsyí pulls away and goes to her bed and grabs something wrapped in leaves and she smiles softly unwrapping the leaves showing her gift, and Neytiri smiles seeing the new necklace shocked “i made it myself over and over so many times i wanted it to be perfect mom” she says receiving another hug “ i want to go to the forest and be with my family we can spend the day just me you Jake and your baby brother, my family “ she says completely touched by this, the sky people made a very good celebration.

BONUS:

Eclipse soon came and the 4 came back on their Ikrans having enjoyed the day hunting, swimming, enjoying each other as well as thanking Eywa as she is the Great mother. Neytiri guided an exhausted Kílsyí to their shared hammock all climbing inside “ happy Mother’s Day…. Best mom ever” she murmurs in her sleep being held by her family. Neytiri watched her with Jake “ she is a smart kid for only being 8 years old i'm glad you enjoyed today she spent 3 days trying to do it herself before asking for help” he chuckles. Neytiri hums stroking Kílsyí’s hair “ we should do this every year. I really did love this ma Jake” she says leaning into his chest content and happy.

#neytiri x daughter!reader #neytiri #avatar memes #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar jake #avatar james cameron #awow #avatar fanfiction #avatar headcanons #omaticaya #mother

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