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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

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The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”

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violetasteracademic · 2 months

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Lucien Vanserra's Hero's Journey with Vassa- The Firebird Legends

Hello friends! This is my very first tumblr post, and is IN DEPTH. It seemed like a good place to explore some of the the themes I've been discussing on TikTok regarding Sarah's book structures, how closely Sarah utilizes The Hero's Journey for ACOTAR, and how many "ingredients in the fridge" as I like to call it are already there for Lucien and Vassa's story, despite arguments that there is very little on page action with The Band of Exlies. If anyone is interested in nerding out about book structure with me, I'll do a quick run through of The Hero's Journey with ACOMAF as the example (I made a video about this already!) and then fill in a possible hero's journey beat by beat for Lucien using only what is on the page. I'm not being hyperbolic when I say I could literally plot out and write this book today with everything Sarah has given us!

A few things to know about me: I love all of the characters involved in these ship wars. I am a die hard Elain stan, Az is my favorite Bat Boy, Lucien is one of my all time favorite characters and one whom I deeply relate to (I actually think I relate to Elain and Lucien the most, and I'll share how they mirror each other quite well) and I literally had to pull over in a Sprouts parking lot listening to the ACOSF graphic audio when Gwyn told her story. An elderly woman knocked on my window to ask if I was okay because I was sobbing. I do get passionate about my ships (Elriel and Vassien) because of my reading experience and how I process Sarah's structures. It would be the shock of my life if it goes in a different direction. BUT I love all the characters and respect all ships. My only goal is to get people excited about everything possible for our Bird of Flame and Lord of Fire, because their story stands to be by second favorite after Elain and Azriel!

Here is a quick rundown of The Hero's Journey: A three act structure famously based on the works of Joseph Campbell, an author and educator in the field of comparative mythology.

I will try my best to *briefly* break down the first act of A Court of Mist and Fury (I could do the same for Nesta's Journey in A Court of Silver Flames!)

Step One: The Ordinary World Status Quo. Feyre's status quo after Under The Mountain is the simultaneous evolution of her new life as Fae, and devolution of her spirit and personhood. In her new ordinary world, she is being kept in the dark. She is relegated to wedding planning and isolation.

Step Two: Call to adventure. Feyre is called to adventure on the day of her wedding, when the status quo has become unmaneagable. She calls out for help, and Rhys whisks her to the night court. In the Call to Adventure, our Hero learns a truth about the world that they will have to face. In Feyre's case, it is that the war is immenent. She realizes there is a threat to the safety of her sisters, and Rhys pushes her to train so that she is not unprepared if she is the only thing standing between them and Hybern.

Step Three: Refusal of the Call (in other structures or variations this is called The Debate.) The Hero is not sure if this is their story, if they are the one to face the call. They experience a period of maintaining the status quo a little longer. This is when we see Feyre sinking back into life with Tamlin. He is loosening the reigns, she doesn't want to rock the boat. She believes The Ordinary World might improve without her having to take the next step.

Step Four: Meeting the Mentor. Our hero meets someone that will assist them in their journey, and help them move forward in answering the call. This can be friendships, trainers and teachers, mystical guides, any number of things. In Feyre's case, it is dinner with the Inner Circle. She hasn't yet decided if she will join Rhysand's court and work with him in the efforts against Hybern, however she agrees to meet his court members. Each of them provide guidance to Feyre. In strength and training (Cassian and Azriel), emotional resilience (Mor), and histories/education on how the court and Fae lands function (Amren). Feyre agrees to work for Rhysand and then we cross the threshold into act two.

When I talk about "ingredients in the fridge," I am talking about a dinner that has been planned, ingredients purchased, and everything ready to go for book dinner to be on the table tonight. At this point, Sarah has been grocery shopping for future book plots for many many years! This is my personal interpretation of a really powerful story for Lucien and his hero's journey to free Vassa from Koschei.

Step One: Ordinary World. Lucien wakes up in the human lands in the manor he shares with his Band of Exiles. (I also am obsessed with how messy and hilarious it is that this was gifted to him by his mates ex fiance but I digress.) He has become so close with Vassa that he is no longer trusted to do his job for the Night Court. All the while he is worrying about Koschei, and when he will come for Vassa. Her enslavement to the deathless sorcerer pains him, and the pressure is building.

I hate to poke holes in another ship, however it is important to note that during all of these conversations Elain is not present or mentioned by Lucien in any way. However, Mor states that Lucien is choosing to live in the human lands despite Elain. And of course, in ACOSF Lucien makes it clear that even being in Velaris doesn't mean it is to see Elain, and the thought of his presence being expected only for his mate makes him uncomfortable.

I'm not saying these things couldn't change in the next book, I am however just setting Lucien's Ordinary World or Status Quo. Lucien is living in the human lands with the Band of Exiles and his main areas of concern and growing conflict are with Vassa and Koschei. This is what is being built to send the status quo to a breaking point *at present* His interest or efforts in Elain are devolving while his connection to Vassa and interest in defeating Koschei or freeing her are evolving.

Step Two: Call To Adventure. Lucien already has a powerful possible Call to Adventure (or inciting incident, as other similar structures call it) set in place. Koschei decides to reign in the leash on Vassa and force her to return to the lake, being ripped from her home with Lucien and Jurian and no longer able to provide assistance with the human queens.

Step Three: Resisting the Call. The reason Lucien is so perfectly suited for this is because he is the only character with such torn loyalties. He is loyal to Feyre and the Night Court, he attempts to be respectful to his mate, he is glad to work for Rhysand. There are many other threats present, Lucien's own father Beron suspected to be at risk of allying with Koschei. The human queens in the wind who have powers and a vendetta. While the Firebird legends retelling *could* take place with Jurian and Vassa, my issue with that is similar to my issue with Gwynriel. There is literally nothing, and I mean NOTHING that would create conflict for the character or a debate period. There are no obstacles or stakes in place that could keep the characters apart, which is critical to all storytelling but Sarah utilizes so much conflict. Lucien is the lost wanderer, torn from court to court, abusive home to abusive home, without a true family until the Band of Exiles. But it is still a matter of chosen family over loyalties he still feels to Feyre and her court. So, Vassa is taken by Koschei. Lucien now must be spurred into action, but is *he* the hero of this story? Is he going to be the one to take on Koschei?

Step Four: Meet the mentor. Oh, I think we all know where I am headed with this! What better mentor could there be in place for Lucien in freeing Vassa from her curse than Helion Spellcleaver. Aka Lucien's biological father. Helion also has maintained a consistent presence, being called in to attempt to manage the dread trove items. He has returned to the page in ways other High Lords haven't. We are gearing up for Helion 100%

Now, to get a little farther into some of the details beyond act one, tests allies and enemies, innermost caves, ordeals, so on and so forth, I simply want to focus on the stakes of this story specifically, and why I find them the most powerful.

As far as theme for Lucien, he has been aimless and suffering and ultimately ended up with no home and nowhere to spend Solstice. Feyre and Elain were a default because, in his own words, he had nowhere else to go.

Feyre urges him to call the Night Court home, but he has found a true home with Jurian and Vassa. He cares deeply for them and for their safety. He is amazed by Jurian's leadership, literally saying "Thank god for him" keeping everything together. Even at his best with Rhysand, Lucien has never put full faith in Rhys as a leader (which is very similar to Nesta who, while still an Archeron sister, continues to dismiss Rhys as her high lord and has found her calling and found family with The Valkyrie's.)

Lucien learning Helion is his biological father pairs perfectly with his metal eye, which can see through glamours. We may come to find that Lucien has hidden spell cleaving abilities making him uniquely suited to save the woman he loves. However, this brings us to...

THE BLOOD DUEL.

Lucien and Azriel blood dueling over Elain makes no sense plot, character, or world building wise. Lucien does not identify with the Autumn court or its laws, and he has been nothing but respectful of Elain's lack of interest in him and by all accounts is moving on in a very healthy way. It is stated clearly that Beron knows Lucien is not his son, hence why Lucien received such additional torment and ab*se as well as Beron's treatment of Lady Autumn. However, for Lucien to publicly display Helion's powers would make Lady Autum's affair public knowledge. This gives Beron cause to call for a blood duel with Helion over LoA. These are incredibly high stakes and obstacles. Does he risk the life of his mother and newly discovered father to save the woman he loves by revealing his true power?

As far as Lucien being sole heir to the Day Court, there is another possible outcome where Helion wins the blood duel (thus securing Eris's place as the new High Lord of Autumn, another long established plotline) and Lady Autumn and Helion get a second chance while Lucien still chooses his found family. Or, at the very least, as long of a life with Vassa as he could get before taking up the Day Court. Sarah also of course has had both mortal characters choose mortal life spans for love (Elorcan) or make mortals immortal (Feyre and Miryam.) However, Lucien stated he never had any interest in being a high lord. Of course this is up for interpretation, but I believe his character development still maintains that. This man has been through so much. He just wants to live in peace, and I think it would be a beautiful thing to know that his mother is now safe and not a political pawn.

Speaking of political pawns, this is also why I believe Elain and Lucien have a lot to heal with each other. When Lucien discovers that he could have been raised by Helion and not Beron, but his mother was sold and used as a political pawn and her agency taken away, he is going to face quite a few demons. I do not personally think Lucien's story (or Elain's) is most powerfully served by he and Elain choosing to de-escalate all the conflict and spend time with each other and wind up falling in love. It COULD happen, and if it's what Sarah chooses to do, it will be lovely! But Elain is such a mirror to Lucien's own mother. The only difference being that Lucien is a good male while Beron is a monster. Lucien, when faced with this, would be motivated to prevent his story repeating itself. Elain and Lucien's mother are the only two alive today presenting as unhappy with their pairings. I believe this is what Sarah was referring to when she said Elain was a better mate for Lucien than Nesta (her original plan) because of the healing they could provide each other. While I am not stating this as fact, it is my opinion that there is enough foreshadowing for rejected mating bonds, the suffering of poor matches and females being owned with archaic laws, that Sarah always intended to have Lucien participate in the rejected mating bond story line with one of the Archeron sisters. Lucien and Elain as a rejected bond is a much better fit as Lucien and Elain are actually both quite passive about their mating bond, letting the plot develop and build elsewhere whereas Nesta would have likely just burnt Lucien to a crisp or had it take up a lot more of ACOSF which would have been truly tough to fit in.

I could go on and literally plot out the whole book beat by beat with the Hero's Journey, but I would be here all day. I truly think Lucien and Vassa in the Firebird Legends would be so beautiful and powerful. I've teared up thinking about it! It always disheartens me to see characters getting thrown under the bus for the ship wars, or to be accused of hating Lucien because I ship Elriel. I am brand new to the online ship space, and this was truly how I experienced the books as someone who loves all the characters and wants the best for them. I believe Lucien has been nothing but respectful towards Elain and deserves to be happy. I just don't think Elain is his happiness. Even Feyre and Rhys had moments of trust and connection building in A Court of Thorns and Roses before ACOMAF. Their relationship was not out of left field at all. Elain and Lucien have a LOT of work to do to make their interest in each other suddenly believable, and in my opinion now we are getting into poorly paced and structured writing to accommodate it.

I've definitely seen compelling compilations about how both Elain and Lucien are tied to Koschei and it could just as easily be their shared love story while saving Vassa, and I won't go into a rage if that is what happens. It is simply difficult for me to ignore all the conflicts that would conveniently resolve and obstacles that would be removed. I know people love to call the three brothers and three sisters "lazy" but three is simply a motif, not book structure or line level prose. In my opinion, a sudden resolution to active political conflicts by putting two characters together is much lazier when it comes to the actual writing of the book.

These are just my musings, and the things I picked up on whilst reading (and re-reading a million times tbh) and experiencing books! What do you guys think of Vassien? I personally am so excited by how beautiful it could be!

#elriel #vassien #elain x azriel #lucien x vassa #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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Are my parents and I the assholes for insinuating that my aunt and uncle's dog should be put down?

I (21F) hate one of my aunt and uncle's current dogs. They rescue old racing dogs and have done for like 15 years now. Their first two dogs I loved. First one was a bitch in both senses of the word, but she was funny and well behaved when it was important. Second one was a true gentle giant and a lovely boy. The second pair they've adopted though are a nightmare.

Alice, the current bitch they have, has suffered some form of trauma in her past. There are three years missing from her medical history and she's got some scars, so we'll never know exactly what happened but something did. She's a very nervous dog. She can be a sweetie, and they were making progress with her until they got the new one. Alice, however, does what more dominant dogs around her do, which has become a problem.

Enter Blue. Blue is genuinely dangerous. Blue snaps with no previous warning and tries to kill things. My family all know about dogs, this isn't us misreading his body language, he is giving no warning then going for the throat. He's taken a particular dislike to mum (who is usually a bit of a dog whisperer) and has got her in the hand a few times. Blue also tries to kill any dog who doesn't share his breed. We were in a restaurant, sitting outside, Blue saw a Beagle and before any of us could do anything he'd pulled my uncle backwards off of his chair and dragged him towards this poor dog. My uncle is a big man, 6" and not thin, so you can imagine the strength it took for Blue to drag him like a doll (the Beagle and owner got away DW).

I've disliked Blue for a while, but what made me actually hate him was that, when my aunt and uncle came to see us just after our own elderly dog had passed, Blue walked into our sitting room and pissed on the carpet. He's house trained and has never done this before. I think he was doing it territorially because he could smell that our dog was dead. I've never wanted to kick an animal before, but I did then and had to excuse myself before I caused a scene.

Cut to yesterday. We were in the pub having a family meal. Blue is muzzled now in public after the last restaurant incident. There was a family sitting across the room from us with a very little girl, 3 or 4 years old I'd say. She was looking at Alice and trying to get her attention from across the room. As her mum got up to take her to the toilet, the girl pointed at our table and asked to see the dogs. Her mum asked us if it was okay. My aunt agreed. The little girl came over. Alice immediately hid under the table.

My aunt was like "ooh sorry, she's shy, why don't you say hello to Blue".

Blues head pops up. The mum sees he's wearing a muzzle and tries to pull her daughter away from him but the kid was too quick and went to pat him on the head. He was super chill with it, pressed into her palm like he wanted harder pets, then with no warning growl, no tensed up body language, nothing, just lunges for the kid.

Obviously she's terrified. The mum is terrified and pulls her away. My uncle grabs hold of Blue's leash and my aunt is ineffectually going "oh no blue bad boy" over and over. My parents jumped up to help the mum and the little girl. I grabbed Alice so she couldn't start copying Blue. We all got kicked out of the pub.

We were standing on the street outside when my parents and I started laying into my aunt about how irresponsible that was. She is like "he'll never become accustomed to humans if he's locked away". Dad shouted that he doesn't get to maul someone to learn that lesson. She scoffed and said he had the muzzle. I said it takes one piece of brittle plastic before he gets put down. My aunt told us all to fuck off and stormed off in the opposite direction. My uncle took Alice from me and followed her.

My aunt made a passive aggressive series of Facebook posts about how all dogs deserve care, and how everyone lashes out when exposed to trauma, then blocked mum (only Facebook user in our house).

I don't think we're the assholes, but I know I'm very biased, because I genuinely hate that dog and would be quite happy to hear it had moved on, whether that be to a different home or the afterlife, I'm not picky.

So awta?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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simp-ly-writes · 4 months

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Lasting Pictures: Interrogation (pt.6)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Photographer!Reader

Summary: Stress is weighing down every part of your life, your relationships are strained, your work is becoming sloppy and you are desperate for answers- yet where will those answers lead you to and at what cost?

Warnings: 4592 words, slowburn, swearing, depictions of PTSD, blood, and injury. Allusions to jealousy.

A/N: we are reaching the end? (not really ahhaha). Apologies for the lack of uploads- uni has been serving up hell recently :/

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

↳ Three Weeks Until Mission “Spill”

Across the next few days you were splitting your time between weapons and strength training while packing your gear into a travel bag and cleaning your gun in the dining room as a break. The apartment was empty for the afternoon and you had left Spoons back at your apartment with care instructions to your elderly neighbour tapped to the fridge. Placing the shining metal against the blanket you had laid out. Looking down at the disassembled gun, a shiver runs down your spine as you see yourself reflected over and over again in the shimmers. You think about the scenario you are about to place yourself in. There was no need for an intelligence gatherer today, no- they had requested you to be a part of the infiltration team. You would be returning directly to your old position and be cleaning rooms with a barrel raised and ammunition strapped to your chest.

There was no option nor any choice, you had the full knowledge of every desired hostile target to be eliminated and all those connected who were valuable to be integrated after. You knew exactly how to grip the answers out of their skull, falling loose at the lips as you would push forward. Room after room, bodies hitting the floor leading up your most important mission yet. There were millions of lives at stake, a country of people who breathed, who loved and were loved, who deserved to see the light of day again.

You were determined to ensure their lives but at what cost. At what cost could you put yourself towards more… irreplaceable damage, as a therapist once told you. Shaking your head as you heard the door open, you placed a solid smile across your face before reassembling your gun. Hearing each piece slide effortlessly into place and finally with a click you were looking down your scope, fixing the last bells and whistles before loading up your vest.

Not paying attention to Köing who somehow managed to enter the locked apartment and sat at the table silently. He unloaded his own gun against the table, keeping you company as he followed your actions, reaching across to pick up the cloth as he polished some of the knives scattered across his uniform. Only when the Austrian hummed a familiar tune, one that your old squad listened and recited before every mission had you slipping beneath your mask- a true small smile lost to time as of recently.

You both became lost in the… somewhat domestic moment together. Humming in harmony before your phone dinged repeatedly from inside your duffle bag. Huffling while giving the tall man an apology, he simply placed another knife against the table before waving a hand in your face. Telling you to go take your call as he disassembled his gun and began humming once more.

Swiping without checking to see who it was, all you received on the other end was some hurried breathing and then static. Taking the device away from your ear, you look down to see the call has ended and no number has been tracked. Tapping your foot against the hardwood floors as you debate on asking Köing to take a look or not- you decide against it and send a text towards Gabby with a screenshot of the phone logs before returning to pack your bag.

“Everything alright, Maus?”

“It's been awhile since I heard you call me that,” you reply with a slight laugh in your voice.

“It has… but might as well start someplace? Is that not what you and your American friends say?”

Throwing your head back now in laughter, you grip the Austrains shoulder into a small side-hug before moving around the table and folding more of your shirts.

“You never answered my question.”

“Hm?” you reply without looking up.

“Who was on the phone, you began to do your pacing thing- someone say something?” Köing comments while tilting his head and reaching over the table to hold your forearm, halting your motions.

“Oh, nothing like that… just some miscommunication from within the team, that's all,” you reply before dropping your shirt into the bag and look towards the opening door- your squad appeared to be coming back from the gym.

“Okay then… see you again soon Maus,” Köing adds quietly with a wink before attaching his gear back into place, giving you a small hug and making his way out of the apartment. Your face falls once more, realising that none of the boys had greeted you since arriving as you place the last pair of pants into the bag before zipping it closed.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder you head out the apartment to place your gear for easy access the next morning in the locker room. As you pass by the living room Soap and Ghost sit on the couch cuddling one another- the infamous plaid blanket draped across their legs as a game plays across the television screen. Gaz comes out of the shower, towel wrapped around his legs and you receive no usual smirk from the man as Price enters the apartment, phone pressed into his ear as he side-steps you before moving into his room. Clutching the shoulder-strap you close the door gently behind yourself before watching the numbers tick down the elevator floors. The past meets the present once more, is the only message that passes through your mind when the doors open.

When suiting up in the locker rooms the next morning, a lack of caffeine has you tying your two boots together with a groan exiting between your lips. Your alarm had awakened you yet again and the lack of light touches to your hair from Gaz in the morning had your heart feeling heavier than your eyes from a lack of sleep. Soap didn’t chase you around the apartment in the afternoons nor did he whisper dad-jokes to you during dinnertime. You ate alone in your room, at your desk with your journals scattered across its surface.

You tugged on your vest, tightening the labels across your chest while shimmying on your gloves, testing the feeling of your fingers trapped beneath the material as you gave your helmet a good few knocks- ensuring it was secured tightly to your head. A member from a joining squad came to check your gear as they helped to tighten the back straps of your vest and to apply your jumping gear.

Giving you a quick pat on the shoulder, you moved to stand against the wall beside Ghost who turned to give you a close lookover- obviously not trusting the man from earlier that just checked you over. His bone-gloved hands move across every latch, zipper and button before he turns to stand in line once more- as if nothing had happened.

Your cheeks still hold a familiar pink hue to them as Laswell walks down the line and faces Price standing at the top. They hold one another's stares for a few moments, neither wanting to fold first yet a cough coming from a younger recruit snaps them out of their miniature competition as they both glare down the line to see who interrupted.

“Task force 141 you will be split into squads 0-1 through 0-9, you all will be placed on action items one through four, objective sites are lit when you arrive. NODs are to be equipped for the night execution of this mission when you will arrive by air. Jump distance to objective is cleared to be 10 clicks away, are there any questions?” Laswell demands to the group, a satisfied smile displaying across her face once being met with silence.

You all enter the plane, hooking yourself in as you watch various new and old faces do the same around you. The slight tug back in your seat comforts you in its familiary to the plane ascending, in four hours you would be placed back, combat focused after all those years away. You closed your eyes as the engines hummed, drawing out most worrying thoughts that usually accompanied you. You gripped your gun between your gloves as you prayed for the training sessions to prove worthy.

Once dropping into the site. You felt your heart beating through your head and helmet, the drum-like beat that kept you moving, kept your gun raised as you kicked open door after door. You were assigned as head of another squad, their eyes follow your every action, their weapons raised to your beck and call. Many of them young and bright in the eyes, not having seen the hells of warfare or pulling a trigger to sever a lifeforce. The pressure mounted on your shoulders as these thoughts consumed you, hardly feeling when you got slammed into a wall. One of your targets emerged in a dimly lit room, too bright for your night vision yet concealed enough to pull a knife against your side.

You felt as the blood dripped down your pant leg as you hooked your leg underneath his knee. Forcing him downwards as you wrestled on the ground. The knife dropped as you kicked it towards one of your squad members stationed at the door. A grunt erupts from the man as you slam your hand against his windpipe, he chokes for a moment- limbs going slack so that you can twist his arm, forcing pressure against his shoulder as you call out for restraints to be placed.

Brining the man to the car, you lock the door behind him before regrouping with your team and the results repeat. A door opened, a room scanned to either house a knife or gun barreling towards your face. You soon forget the gash on your leg as adrenaline takes over your form- a woman stands on the other side of the door, gun drawn as one of your men falls against the wall- clutching their shoulder with a shout.

You tackle the woman to the ground, reaching towards your secondary as she fumbles to load another shot. A bullet begins to be loaded in the barrel as you drive again to take the shot, a young Lance Corporal stands behind you, it was only his second mission. The ringing in your ears is ever more potent as a shot rings out in the room, wizzing right past your ear as the woman's corpse lies heavy against your chest.

So close to the edge- once more, your hands shake but you hold resolve to face the worried troops. “Are you okay, lieutenant?” A young man calls to you, caught between dressing a wound and eyeing up your own.

“I’m al’right, good shot Matthew.”

“It was either one of ours or theirs- easy choice,” they reply, eyes confident as their hands become caked in the blood of their brother.

“It will get harder as your time progresses, nevertheless we are to regroup with the other squads. This was the last room to be cleared,” you say as you throw the body off your own and stand, doing your best to wipe the blood off your chest as you radio to Laswell, “Watcher this is Dice, squad-04 has cleared region C. Exiting to regroup at the rally point.”

“Good job- Dice. Clean work?” you pause your radio to let out a groan, doing your best to walk out to the awaiting truck as the rest carry out the injured soldier behind you.

“Negative, one dead- four on route for interrogation. Based upon an ID found from Price’s team- they are some kind of scientist organization working with the aggressor group. Connections lead to Shepard intelligence- Farah I think?”

“Correct. The evidence matches these series of attacks. We just need to track down that oligarch and the rest of the cards should fall into place”

“Never knew you to be a cards gambler, Laswell.”

“You are one to speak with the company you kept.”

Silence carries through on the radio as you debate a reply and load up into the truck, tapping the roof twice before the wheels dig into the muddied ground. The transport shakes as a storm brews in the sky. The wind rumbling the wings of the plane, as the metal of your seat groans underneath the pressure as you tighten your holds. Matthew gives you a thumbs up with a tilt to his head as you nod once back in reply while doing your best to cross your legs- hiding the wound for the duration of the flight as your head falls light.

You do not remember walking off the plane, nor do you remember being placed inside Gabbys office once again as her appearance is a blurry image, caressing your cheeks as she whisper-shouts into your face.

“Bestie- please- this is not funny! I need your attention now, Dice!” She shakes your head as you groan, trying to shut your eyes once more due to the brightness of the room. Yet as you shift your body into a more comfortable position, you hiss out, the stitches placed against your thigh still red from their recent incision.

“Y/N, come on Y/N- don’t be a weak bastard now. I still need you to do all this paperwork- I’m drowning over here. Oh fuck, you probebly are shell-shocked- Don’t even know what I am saying-”

“Fucking hell Gabs, can you shut up one moment so I can get some shut-eye? I got stabbed, ‘Yippee’!” you produce jazz hands in Fish’s face before shoving her away slightly so you can sit upright with a groan. She rushes over with an extra pillow that had fallen to the floor as she grips your hand.

“Ouch! Lessen your grip, please. I swear I’m fine. Blood Loss and all that I assume,” you reply with a large side of sarcasm as you watch Gabby feverishly nod her head before dropping it in your lap with a sigh, you comb your fingers through her hair as cries out a little. Relief coating her system in a familiar hug to your hands.

“When I saw the reports flood in, a-and saw that those evil fucks managed to get some of our own guys- I could not help but imagine you lifeless on that plane home. Fuck, Dice-” Gabby says while shaking her head in your lap before you pick her head up, forcing her eyes towards your own.

“You are not getting rid of me that quickly, Fish. And you know if I ever did- you would be coming down with me.”

Throwing her head back in mixed tears and laughter, she hands you a glass of water before she dries her tears from the issue box. “I am keeping your word to that,” Gabby says while looking up towards the ceiling once more, blinking back any remaining tears as you rub her back.

“In the face of death- we shall never part then.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Hmm,” you let out thoughtfully before looking down at your watch, 3AM glowed brightly as your stomach grumbled, Gabbys echoing the same as she blushed a bright red.

“Dinner reservations at the caf?”

“Sounds like a date. Never knew you to be such a romantic, Fish.”

“I have my uses beside books and good looks,” she says before giving you a signature wink. Shaking your head you stumble to a stand before Gabby comes rushing over, using her as a semi-crutch you both heat up microwavable meals while going over new reports as morning birds begin to chirp out and you both are found sleeping on the bench.

But as you both were found hours later, rest was not available while the wicked still breathed. Finding yourself swamped in familiar paperwork, adding to Gabbys intelligence board within the office while also hearing General Shepard yell down your ears every other day on web calls was a treat in itself.

You both were so close to discovering the answers that you needed, one last red string to be laid as you listened into an interrogation happening from one of the men you intercepted from the last mission. Looking through the mirrored glass, you saw them stare down at you. You know they could not see you in reality, but the little stir down your spine did deter you to take a small step back while readjusting your headset.

They were telling stories in circles, so close to breaking, you were so close to having a breakthrough. All you needed was that last little push to redeem yourself in the eyes of superiors, to redeem yourself in your own reflection from not having the strength earlier.

“I do not know anything- I swear to you!”

“You swear- do you?” Gabby counters, her hands slamming against the metal desk as it rattle within the empty room. “Then please explain to me why biological weapon plans were found taped underneath your dresser, or better yet- how your wife was found at a charity Gala with criminal bosses or maybe how your precious sister died because she believed so heavily in the plan and not in you, yourself-hm?”

“I-I, she’s not dead. W-WHAT DID YOU MONSTERS DO TO HER!”

Sweat dripped down your back as you clutched the console, finger hovering over the communications button. But Gabby switches techniques quickly, dropping her head as she leans against the table now in a more relaxed position.

“She shot, we shot. That is all to be said- you can imagine the rest I believe with a character of your strengths. All I would need is a location…”

The man spits in her face as Gabby wipes the liquid away with the sleeve of her shirt in disgust before sighing and looking through the class, tapping a finger to her chin in contemplation.

“I serve the cause, we are to restore the beauty of the lands which have been taken.”

“Mhmm, and there is beauty to be found when the ground you rest your head upon is soaked in the blood of thousands of innocent people- children included. What would your own child think of you-hm? The one studying abroad currently… or was…” Gabby closes her eyes for a moment, as if praying for this line to sink in as she turns to face the man in the next instance. Walking over to lean down right beside his ear, “...temporarily moved… will she greet you with open arms screaming “Daddy!” with a big ol smile, kissing your cheek in that lonely yellow floral dress. Or maybe- actually probably- never mind that. She will look at you for the man you hide to be… a slaughterer of others daughters. That hateful look of disgust, a pity really it would be to sour such a good relationship…”

Gabby backs away, walking towards the door as the man begins to thrash in his chair- pulling at the cuffs on the metal table. “ALCOVE BLOCK. I-It’s a disabled mineral and forestry site. Farmland for miles surrounds it- you will find the accountant. Powerful member to the fight- t-they…” the man trails off fear beginning to overwhelm his stressed system.

“They. What?” Gabby presses, turning back to face the man as she slowly walks back over, a menacing tilt to her head as they lean away from her body and that is when you decide to enter the room. A small, pleasant appearing smile is plastered across your features as you kneel by the sitting scientist.

“Hey, hey. Deep breaths, I promise no harm to come to you while I am here,” is all you say before pushing Gabby out of the room. Turning to face away from the camera behind the man, you whisper out to the room only filled by light breathing and the tick of a distant clock. “I am on your side, I have seen you as you have me- is that not what our friends say?”

A few deep breaths in and out go-by before the man's shoulders slump forward in relief as he speaks out softly, The accountant is to be promoting us all. Direct return is very much necessary- I will speak good words of your efforts as I know you have much to report. They leave in a few days time, you get me out of here- and I promise that you will be served well by the leader.”

“A promotion you say?” you tease as you hear Gabbys small cheers coming through your earpiece. Looking over the man, you let off a tisk, tisk, tisk before exiting much to his confusion.

Leaning against the closed door, you rip your headset off before storming back into the room as the man yells out in frustration as the guards move him back into the holding cell. Once inside you find Laswell and Gabby already pulling you into a hug while voicing their thanks.

A ragged breath escapes between your lips, good enough is all that floats around your head. The last red line goes up moments later as another round of coffee is served in celebration before you are packing your bags once more, disregarding your injury for the new week upon you.

As the night falls upon you once more, the notes from the interrogation earlier in the day left to flock through the system. You lay wide awake in your bed, the ceiling fan spinning once again as the heater hums in the living room. You feel as Gabby stirs beside you, equally as restless to the sounds of Soaps snoring from the next room over. She looks over your features in the moonlight, concern overpowering her senses as she reaches out to hold your hand underneath the covers.

“You never told me how you know that expression…” Gabby whispers, the secrets you held eating her alive.

“...You promised to keep no secrets, but as of recently… I feel that I barely know you anymore. We have gotten so caught up in work…” her finger trails up your arm before she pulls you into a hug. “I feel that sometimes… I should have never asked you to return.“

Your breath hitches, “Gabriela-”

“Full name. Now I know we're truly serious,” Gabby says with a giggle, the seriousness returning to her tone the next moment, “Do you think you are going back after the mission? I am even thinking of leaving after all of this is over.”

You hum while giving her a squeeze. “Really? Knowing you- you will be itching to do something not even half-a-day after signing the papers.” You laugh out into a saddened sigh, “Sometime ago I said that I would stay… But with how things are going, I don’t quite know now… Wow I am such an asshole, stringing everyone with shit loaded promises-”

“No. You were being truthful to the moment, couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Still- Gabby- I-”

“No, Dice. I asked you to come, you do not need me or anyone to hold you from staying after this mission.”

“But that's the thing Gabs. What about everyone once I leave?” you question, tears welling in your eyes as memories consume you- slight shakes forming at the hands has Gabby sitting upright to look down at you- giving your side a small tickle in distraction as you kick your feet out towards her in reaction before you hide your wince of pain. Your injury almost healed from a secret visit to the nurses office.

“You did not get to choose then, but you do now. That is what is different- what I am trying to tell you. I am not saying life will ever go back to normal, but whatever beginnings of normal you found within that apartment- I think you could find peace there.”

You contemplate Gabbys words, twirling a strand of her hair in your finger as you start to form a small braid, the sequences that your parent taught you. “I was hiding in that apartment, Gabs, behind my desk and in my journals. I-I don’t know where to go…”

Gabby lets out a hum as a delicate smile appears, “a gift- not knowing is; where to go, who to be, when to do what. It allows us to account for anything we ever wanted or find we want for nothing at all.”

You watch as she lays back down, turning her back to face you before speaking up once more, “take time as much as you spend it, Dice. Know that I will be here no matter what you decide.”

Letting out yet another ragged breath, you sniffle while trying to blink away tears of thankfulness, “Thank you, Fish. I would not know life without you- truthfully.”

“That makes two of us, now go the fuck to sleep. You look like a dying rat.”

You wheeze out into your bedroom as Gabby covers her face in the pillow, muffling her sleep-deprived cackles.

When you awake in the morning, Gabby's side of the small bed is empty, the sheets a mess and the shower running in tune to her horrid singing voice that has Gaz slamming on the door, voicing a complaint as he walks by your room. Ghost follows in tow with a hand against Kyle’s back- ushering him forwards.

Rubbing your eyes awake, you open your phone in the living room, seeing a few messages and selfies sent from Horangi and Köing as they pose in their gear- holding a thumbs up. Sending a text back, you were happy to see that they made a safe flight over the pond as you read off on emails the next minute.

You end up eating breakfast in Gabby’s office as you rattle off strategies with Laswell and Graves on video-call. You twirl in the chair once you close the tab- mind racing yet bags packed and waiting by the door. So much has happened in so little time, you think to yourself while adding more change to the fishbowl. You watch the coins fall and clank against the glass before loading up your belongings. While rolling up the charging cable, a knock is sounded from the door that has you bumping your head from underneath the desk.

Cursing and rubbing your hand- your eyes fall wide in shock seeing a dishevelled Laswell forcing herself into the office before quickly locking the door behind herself and motioning for you to sit back down. Kate walks around to the desk, sitting down to look at you from across the table while throwing her head against the desk with a groan escaping her.

“Everything alright-”

“Just peachy, Dice. I need you to leave sooner than expected.”

“Okay… like tomorrow or in 20 minutes?” you joke out, wincing at the bags underneath her eyes.

“1 hour- close but no cigar.”

“Dang, could use one of those right now…”

“Gods, you and Johnny with the jokes- really helping to do my head in.”

“Apologies, Laswell, I will get moving.”

With one hand on the door handle, Kate calls out your name as you turn back around to face her. “And do speak to John after this mission- please.”

You meet her words with silence before she speaks up again, “He’s become the offspring of a mother hen and grizzly bear recently. Whatever has been stirred- try to ensure it doesn't come into the field. I can look past many things from over the years- but I will not stand to hide piss-poor work, am I clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am.”

“Safe travels, Dice.”

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @ashy-kit

168 notes · View notes

theblueflower05 · 11 months

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Yawnyewla(Broken Heartedness) | Part Two

A/N: It has been a crazy month or so, real life has brutalized me. Sorry you guys are getting this chapter later than planned Avatar + the Omegaverse has been my comfort lately. @cinetrix you have been especially supportive and I lova ya bby. Thank you for making me some Mega Neteyam to keep my writing brain on! The art below is made by her and omg right?

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Alien sex. Alien Genitalia. Oral sex(female and male receiving), Fingering(female and male receiving) Cursing. Angst(it’s me, duh) and mild talks about past grooming. Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.

Summary: You’re the Metkayinan Olo’eykete in training, but sometimes even you buckle under the crippling pressure. Will Neteyam be there to comfort you?

Omega Neteyam x Female Alpha Reader

Series Masterlist

<Part One

Part Three>

You only ever touch me in the dark,

Only when we’re drinking can you see my spark.

And only in the evening would you give yourself to me,

Cause the night is your woman and she’ll set you free

-Lies, Marina and the Diamonds

Your life had always been ruled by carefully crafted routine. Early mornings as the sun rose on the glittering sea, and late nights after most were tucked away.

Being the eldest daughter in any family came with its own list of responsibilities. But for you, the eldest of the reigning Olo’eyktan and Tsahik who also happened to be an Alpha, it seemed like you had been born with duty running through your bloodstream. Burdened with glorious purpose.

It had been clear from an early age just what was expected of you. A life, lived for your people, was your destiny.

And at most times that was okay.

You were happy to serve, it was in your nature to care for others. Good Alpha’s, your mother had taught you, are not ruled by ego. Or violence. Strength comes from within, is a honed skill like fishing or net weaving. Strength is taking care of your family. Helping the elderly and the young. Making sure everyone has a full belly before they lie their head down for bed.

You we're a good Alpha, or at least you tried to be. You knew you could be if you tried. If you could just be calm for long enough to focus.

Ronal liked to say that you were more like the ocean than anyone she had ever met. She had birthed the sea incarnate- with its strong crashing, never faulting, waves. It’s vastness. It’s life-giving vitality.

And its wild nature.

There was something unsettled about you. Deep down, you would never be still. There was a need to learn. Explore. To fight and scream and run. An untamed side of you that Ronal and Tonowari had watched with equal parts amusement and hesitancy during your childhood.

From a young age you’d jumped from the highest cliffs. Sailed out past the reef. Engaged in fights with warriors twice your size, Limping away from tussles with a crimson tinged grin and your big blue eyes sparkling.

The older you get, the more you try to temper it. You desperately attempt to shove it somewhere hidden and out of sight. You can't be what anyone wants you to be with all of this restlessness inside of you. You can't support your father's throne or keep your people healthy-

There’s no room for it. For you, at your core. In your soul.

No one wants a wild woman.

You’d heard it before, it had left a bitter taste in your mouth and a stain on your heart.

In your younger years you were a bit of a trouble maker, but you’d like to think you'd reformed. If only a little bit. It’s not like you truly had the time to get into messes anyway.

Especially not at this time of year.

Though it’s sacred, a time for joy and festivity, it’s exhausting. To say the least. With the Iknimaya ceremony and The Return of the Tulkun looming in the very near future, the village of Awa’atlu was a buzz.

There’s preparations to be made. And endless list of duties to fulfill-

And yet, this migration cycle, you lag.

Usually, you run around like an austrapede(chichen like creature) with its head cut off. Heading to your parents every word. Not getting a moment to truly breathe, your sole focus on making sure that the ceremonies went smoothly-

Something else entirely has your attention. A certain golden eyed man that had bewitched you completely.

You thought you had known infatuation before Neteyeam.

You've certainly had crushes before.

There had been others who caught your eye, definitely.

But this? You’d never felt anything close to this. You think about him when you awake in the morning and before you fall asleep. When you’re not with him, you're aching for the moment that you can find time to slip away and get your hands back on his hard, muscle corded body. Your mind constantly assaults you with images of him. His broad shoulders and long braids. His mouth, swollen and puffy. His deep moans as you bring him over the edge-

“Look at you” Your good friend, Akime, grunts through a laugh. Breaking you from your reverie.

You’d been sat with a group, working on repairing weapons for the Great Hunt that would ensue after the Iknimaya trials.

But Neteyam had walked by with his father.

Doing something mundane, toting heavy woven baskets to the big main Mauri for dinner. His arm muscles bulging in a way that had you greedily tracing his form. He’d only given you a small nod in acknowledgement as he passed. An even smaller smile.

“Shut your mouth-and focus on your whittling. I pity the poor soul who ends up with that lopsided spear” you retort with a roll of your eyes.

You're not embarrassed about being caught ogling. You knew you weren't the only one. The Omiticayan transplant was one of the most gorgeous Omega’s that had ever stepped foot on the islands. Everyone was a bit dazed.

“He’s very pretty, I'll give you that. But he’s so stand offish- I could never see you with a mate like that, yawne(beloved)” Akemi was your closest confidant outside of your family.

A Beta who stood much taller than you and had the brawn of two men but was the kindest Na’vi you’d ever met. A gentle giant so to speak. He wore his dark hair pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck most days and black ink tattoo’s swirled around most of his body. A decorated warrior and hunter with the tattoos to prove it.

Everyone had assumed the two of you would mate, until he met his husband. Another Beta Male from one of the smaller islands. The two had all but raised Akemi’s cousin, Roxto, after the abrupt and tragic passing of the younger boy's parents.

“He’s really not,” you sigh, shaking your head as you sharpen the blades.

“Oh? I don't think I've ever heard him speak more than a few words at a time. And he always has that look on his face- like he swallowed a Wonwon fruit(lemon like fruit)”

Neteyam has many skills, you’d learned as you’d spent endless hours training him. Being a social butterfly is surely not one of them. He clams up around big groups, gets nervous and awkward. You find it endearing, even though you know the Omega is really hard on himself for it. He’s actually really funny and easy to talk to when you get to know him.

“He’s shy, be nice” you chide your friend easily. “There is nothing wrong with him not wanting to gab all day with any and everyone”

“Hah! I guess your loud skxawng ass can talk for the both of you. You never shut up” Akemi dodges the small shell you throw at him “But really, he’s so different then what you usually go for-” Akemi goes on and if it was anyone else you’d shove them off. Tell them to mind their own business.

Neteyam had made it clear that he wanted to keep what the two of you had under wraps, at least for now. And even though that wasn't what you particularly wanted, you respected his wishes.

“And what is it I usually go for, pray tell?” your brow bone rises, confrontational and curious.

“People just as annoying as you” Akemi dead pans and you can’t help but snort “You like Na’vi who challenge you. Who are just as bold and loud and daring. Is he not too…soft for you, my friend?”

In the past you had been attracted to men and women who matched the spark in you. And it had always ended in misery. In yelling and fighting and you questioning if you're meant to be alone because in partnerships you seem to always chase away the other.

But with Neteyam it’s different. He isn't a challenge, he doesn't want to knock you down a peg or make you change…he only wants to be your equal.

“Just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he’s soft” you defend the Omega like he’s your own, because that’s all you want. You want to wear his bite “He’s actually the fiercest warrior I’ve ever trained. His skillset is unmatched. I mean, I can keep up with him. But just barely”

Akemi chews this over. Continuing to carve at the spear in his hands “It sounds like he’s impressed you” and that's not an easy feat. You both know. “I'm excited to see his performance for the Iknimaya”

You are too. You can't wait to watch Neteyam shine.

The ocean had not been his chosen terrain, but oh. How beautiful it had been to watch him master it. He rode Tsurak like he had been doing so for years. Uses the crossbow like it had been made just for him.

You liked your partner's competent, and Neteyam checked every. Single. Box.

“If he has you caught in his net, why don't you announce your courtship?” Akemi questions because he knows he can. That he’s your best friend and that you and those walls and that strong strong heart can be open with him.

You hesitate. Chew on your lip for a moment.

“He’s not ready for anyone to know yet” the words are hard. You get it. Neteyam’s not a fledged “adult” member of the Metkayina yet. But many court before their rites, before mating.

“Y/N…”Akemi sighs and it makes your hackles rise.

“It’s fine. It makes sense. He’ll come around after his Iknimaya- that’s the only reason why” you insist to your friend. To yourself.

Akemi purses his lips before he speaks. Choosing his words wisely “I hope that is the case, I truly do. But…you’re my closest friend. I only want your happiness, and investing your feelings into someone who doesn't reciprocate isn't the smartest move, yawne. I just don't want to see you fall into any old patterns”

He doesn't want to watch you pledge your love to another man who's going to stomp all over your feelings. It’d been devastating to bare witness to last time.

You don't like to speak of it. Try not to even think of it. But it doesn’t take from the fact that it had happened.

“I will be fine” You insist, a smile plastered on your face, fake as can be “I’d like to think i’m not that stupid anymore”

Akemi’s nostrils flare “You we’re never stupid, you were young. And vulnerable. You know that right-”

“Please” you interrupt him, head shaking firmly “I don't want to get into this now” or ever.

Most people know not to push you.

That you’d fight back tooth and nail when you feel threatened- but much like your family. Akemi isn't scared of your claws and slick mouth. He’s very much going to push the issue- but is interrupted before he can.

It’s Ao’nung and Roxto, coming down the beach.

Rough housing, tails bumping each other. Even if he hadn't been Akemi’s kin, Roxto would be your favorite of your little brothers friends. He kept Ao’nung in check.

“Y/N!” your brother calls as he approaches- “Sempul wanted you. Says he needs you to help with the Mauri renovations or something.”

He plops down beside you, all the way in your personal space, and you give him a look. Overgrown man-child. Whatever was he going to do when mother had the new baby and he wasn't the youngest anymore?

Roxto stays standing, greeting you politely like the good boy he was. Akemi had done wonders raising him. He turns to his cousin and speaks about plans for dinner for their grandmother.

“When?” you question. You really had hoped you’d be left out of that project, you weren't much of an architect and painting and plastering all day was b o r i n g beyond compare.

“This afternoon” Ao’nung continues.

“But I’m training Neteyam later” you push, your stomach dropping at the thought of not getting to spend your usual time with the Omega. It seems like these days the trainings were few and far between- and after his Iknimaya, he wouldn't need them at all.

“Not today. Tsireya’s gonna have all of ‘em, free diving practice I think” Ao’nung continues, as he reaches for your canteen. Taking big sloppy drink.

“But-”

“Fathers orders, not mine” Ao’ shrugs and you know that he’d had no part in the decision making. Was only an unfortunate messenger.

Still. You snatch your leather canteen with a hiss, standing up. “That's mine, you little freeloader. I hope you’re going to be helping Tsireya with her lessons, your still on thin ice from the Lo’ak incident”

“I am going to help!”

“Good, you better be nice to them” you warn as you gather your belongings and prepare for an afternoon of helping out with Mauris instead of with your sweet Neteyam. Your mood soured greatly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been nice lately, have I not? Roxto, haven't I been nice?” Aonung turns to his friend who does nod.

“As nice as Aonung can be, yeah” Roxto agrees and Neteyam punches his shoulder playfully, insisting that he had been a damn saint.

“Uhuh. Keep it up. Tsireya will tell me if you so much as whisper one sideways remark. You boys have a good rest of your afternoon” You give Ao’nung a pointed stare, ruffle Roxto’s hair, and pat at Akemi’s shoulder as you depart.

“We’ll continue our conversation later, Y/N!” Akemi warns, your back already turned.

You just wave at him without turning back- happy to have escaped the trauma laden conversation.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You end up crawling into your bed that night, dead tired. You don't even burrow under your bed mat- instead you lie atop the covers. You have splinters under your nails from the hay like palm that was used to construct the pods. The afternoon had been long and boring, just as you’d known it would be.

But the worst part is that you hadn't gotten the chance to see Neteyam. To taste his saccharine kisses. As you stare at your beamed ceiling you think of only him.

When you fall asleep his face is behind your eyelids.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After days and days of activity that had seemed to keep the two of you apart, you’re ready to snap. Antsy and eager and needy for just a moment of Neteyam’s time.

The Omega doesn’t seek you out- he just gives you those tiny little smiles and private glances across the fires during communal dinner. It drives you mad, your fingers itch to run through his hair. Your lips want to rerun that familiar path down his chest-

You know he has to miss you as much as you miss him…right?

You don't allow those seeds of doubt to plant. Instead, your brain, desperate for the chemical rush that came with being around Neteyam, begins to plot on how you’d get to see him next.

As you go through the motions of your day, there’s only one thing on your mind and that is the fact that you need to see the Omega.

You have to ask around to figure out where the eldest Sully sibling is- he’s helping out in the orchards. His expertise tree climbing skills of great use.

Hidden in the shadows of the tropical trees, you wait. Lurking like a predator. You feel like a puluakan stalking her prey as you watch Neteyam from a far. He’s helpful and polite, his usual quiet self as he works with the other Metkayina to harvest the ripe fruits and vegetables.

While everyone else starts to head back- he stays. Neteyam insists that can get the ones from the tallest trees on his own. He’s happy to be useful.

Perfect.

You’re a hunter, tried and true. The only place in life where you could hone in on your thin patience, be quiet. Take your time. You move quick and silent, closer to your target. Your heart flutters fast, visibly beating in your throat and your kuru tingling with excitement.

When he’s nearly within arm's reach, right there, you’re prepared to pounce-

-Of course, he pounces first.

A brutal flash of clashing blue as the two of you collide.

It takes all of your strength, years of training, but somehow it ends up with him pinned to the thick base of the Yovo tree. Panting and staring down at you with wide tawny eyes. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.

“Hi” Though you’re a little breathless from the scuffle, you grin.

One of your hands on his shoulder, fingers digging into the hard muscle there. The other pressed against his waist. So close to him that you can feel his body heat.

“Hi” he’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him for too long. Of course, what most don't know about Neteyam- is that he’s a smart ass “You suck at stalking. I could hear you coming the moment you stepped out of the bush”

“No I don't” You cajole, a bubble of laughter building in your fast expanding chest “We’ve barely spoken in a week, and the first thing you do is be mean to me? It’s almost as if you didn't miss me at all”

“How are you gonna know to correct your form if I don't tell you?” He jests, struggling a little in your grip for good measure.

You give him a warning hiss.

This little game the two of you liked to play was usually fun, the push and pull of it all. A teasing filled hunter and prey routine that more often than not ended with Neteyam spreading his thighs as he finally let you have him.

You hadn't kissed your boy in days. You didn't have it in you to wait.

“I was hoping you’d want to tell me something other than how shit you think I am at hunting” you sigh, deep, for dramatic effect.

“What kind of other things?” Neteyam’s eyes keep flickering from your own, down to your mouth. His pink tongue peeks out, runs across the plush of his bottom lip and your knees feel a little weak.

“Things like you’ve missed me” you disclose, because you just can't help it. “Cause I’ve missed you”

You can feel him loosen under your hands, the fight draining. His ears twitch, lowering a bit, and his gaze goes unbearably tender.

“I’ve missed you” he confirms after a moment and it's all you need to hear.

You lunge, groaning the moment you're able to feel his kiss. It’s warm and wet. Full of little nips licks that drive you wild because they feel way too good. An all consuming kind of good- you feel him in your bones. When you release him, your grip on his shoulder falters, his arms wrap around you strong and tight.

You pull away, lips tingling and shiny “How much did you miss me?”

He groans and presses his lips back to yours, annoyed as you keep the kiss shallow. Pecks and light presses while he tries to force his tongue into your mouth. You herd even closer, caging him against the bark. His snuffles, cool air through his snout in annoyance “Y/N, come on”

Instead of responding, your hands begin to drift, fingers dragging across his indigo skin as they take their feel. Oh, this body. How you adored it. His strong shoulders and broad torso, all of that rippling muscle so sensitive and clenching under your touch. Your lips leave his, kissing sloppily across his cheek and down the hinge of his jaw. Stopping only when you can press your face into the place on his neck, right behind his ear, where his scent gland was pumping out that hypnotic musk.

Neteyam’s pheromones are like nothing you’ve ever encountered. They’re knock you on your ass strong, for one. You’d been able to smell him from across the beach the first time you’d met him-back when the Sully’s had descended from the sky. For two they’re foreign and unlike anything you’d previously encountered.

He smells of pine, herby and sharp. Of honeyed tree sap. Of fruit you’ve never learned the name of and the dew that stuck to the foliage in the mornings. It tingles in your nose as you inhale deeply, getting greedy lungfuls of his essence. Very much the scent of a virile young Omega in his prime.

Neteyam gets all shivery when you scent him like this. His head lulls to the side as he presents his entire smooth neck to you like a fucking prize.

It’s heady, the way he gives himself to you. How are you not supposed to be in love with him?

“Missed you so much” he whimpers as you lap at the gland “You’ve been so busy. I- ah, oh-” his speech is broken up. Overwhelmed by your mouth assaulting him and your dainty hand attempting to slip under his tweng “I didn't want to bother you”

You don't pull away when you speak, can't manage to tear your mouth from its ministrations. Instead, your words vibrate right into his skin “Please bother me, paskalin(sweet berry). Bother me all the time”

His laughter is as sweet as his scent, and you want to bathe in it.

Neteyam is an indulgence and you're gluttonous for him.

Screw your duties, whatever was waiting for you back at the village could do just that. Wait. It’s a bit scary how quickly you’re willing to put everything on the back burner if it meant you could spend just one sun drenched afternoon with him.

He looks good, in the shade of the palms. His eyes closed and cheeks flushed as the two of you ravage each other. Your hips knocking into one and other as you desperately rub against him through the layers of your clothing.

You’re completely wrapped up in him. You don't realize how much time you’ve spent just kissing him. You know that you’re needed for just about a billion different things but as you taste his spit you can't remember to care.

When you begin tugging at the cords of his tweng he sobers a bit, squirming. “What if someone sees, the gathering group might return”

“Fuck them” you mindlessly mutter, working at the blasted knots. You want his cock. You need to taste him on your tongue.

Neteyam huffs in amusement, reaching down to undo them for you. He always makes it look so easy with those long nimble fingers.

When he’s freed from his confines, your quick hands are all over him. Pawing at his bare inner thighs, groaning when your fingertips run along his dripping slit. You can already feel his manhood, rock hard, and poking out from the protective sheath of his body.

Neteyam is gorgeous and so, so sensitive. He’s throwing his head back, braids grinding against the bark as you play with him. Getting him all wet and messy between his strong thighs.

“Oh shit- shit, Y/N” he wheezes as you grasp his member in your hand, stroking him until he’s standing proud and fully erect.

Neteyam’s very much well endowed. He’s got girth yes, but Eywa he’s long. You wonder what it would be like to take him inside of you. You’re so sure that he would hit places that no other had before. You clench around nothing, can feel your knot internally swell, just dying to contract around him and milk him dry.

You can't, sadly. Not yet. Or you’d lay him down and sit right on his cock this very moment.

Instead you give him everything else. He’s moaning low in his throat as he squirms, and his hands disappear in your hair. Your eyes fight the urge to roll when his fingernails skritch at your scalp just right.

You're sinking then, down onto your knees. You want to taste him and your eager mouth envelopes his mushroom cock head at once. His earthy sweet taste explodes across your tastebuds and you don't know who moans louder, you or Neteyam.

You enjoy giving oral pleasure, you always had. It makes you feel powerful. You control Neteyam as you suckle on his manhood. When your hands come to play, inching down towards his hole he grunts and bucks hard. Your throat constricts around him with a gag.

Its so sexy. The way he chases his release makes you burn.

His virgin hole is tight, the muscles tense as you circle it with your fingers. The sounds Neteyam gurgles above you make it clear that he doesn't want you to stop. It’s a beyond snug fit as you push a single digit in.

The darker man practically sings. His abdominals clench and you’re pretty sure he’s about to blow-

When suddenly his hands fisting your locks go from holding you close, to pushing you away. You’re only haughtily confused for a moment.

The two of you freeze.

Sensitive ears twitching as the sound of crunching footsteps in the distance.

The orchard is large and full of fruit trees and bushes, making an escape without getting caught is easy enough. You slip behind an enormous berry bush, hidden easily by the thorned shrubbery. You’re vibrating with the thrill though, as you and Neteyam avoid being spotted. Just barely.

You don't think you would have minded if anyone would have caught you on your knees pleasuring your beautiful Omega.

Neteyam on the other hand doesn't look as happy as you. He actually seems kind of spooked. Crouching low and alert as the voices hum in the distance he re-ties his tweng with shaky hands. He doesn't relax until they pass and even then his shoulders stay tense.

“It’s okay, I never get caught, don't worry” You press a comforting hand to his side, and he sighs. Leaning into your touch despite himself.

You can tell the moment of passion is over and you hate it, although it probably is for the best.

“I have to go” you’re mournful of the fact” I’m sure they’re looking for me, back at the village”

His face falls, a little frown that’s cuter than it should be marring his features “Okay…”

You cup his cheek on your palm, making him look at you “We’ll get to be together soon, yes? I’m going out of my mind, I need make you come again”

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip hard “Soon” he agrees.

It takes everything for you to leave him in the orchard and not drag him straight to your bed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There are more moments like these as the weeks go on.

Stolen flashes of intimacy.

The two of you sneaking in kisses and groping touches wherever you can. It's always white hot, and over way too soon and somehow you feel even more desperate and strung out after them. Like you’re only getting a taste of what you so desperately want to savor.

You think you’re handling it pretty well. Hiding your split attention-

It all comes to a head at dinner.

The Inknimaya celebrations are only days away and the largest Mauri, the communal one right in the center of the village is packed to the brim with buzzing Na’vi.

You’re sat with your family and a group of high standing village leaders at the head of the meal. Tsireya on one side of you and your very pregnant mother on the other. Your Father sits, right in the middle, and Ao’nung to his side.

There is discussion of the rites and who will be present to officiate them and witness them.

You’re barely listening, so exhausted it’s hard to keep your eyes open. You could blame it on your busy day but really, it's because you and Neteyam had spent last night tangled in each other until the early hours of the morning eclipse.

You meet his gaze from across the crowded room.

Neteyam looks as tired as you feel. And still, he grins. A barely there thing just for you. When his hands move it’s subtle movements while no ones paying attention.

He signs, just the way you’d taught him. Only one word.

Tonight.

“Y/N- are you listening?” It’s your mothers voice, firm and cutting and breaking you from your own head.

“Of course” its an automatic lie as you pick at a piece of fish from your plate. You hadnt heard a thing she’d said.

She gives you THE look. A severe one that could make children cry. Good thing you aren't a child anymore.

You try not to feel too embarrassed by her obvious chiding as you rejoin the conversation.

“We were speaking about the First Hunt- there’s been many Nomura(giant man o war style jellyfish) just beyond the reef. Y/N, what is your stance on this matter?” An elder says, voice weary and weathered.

“This is not out of the norm for this time of year. All will be fine, we can set up a perimeter around the young hunters performing their rites” you nod, affirming him while not feeding into the hysteria. Elder Makiao was an anxious man after all.

“Are we sure that’s smart?” The cutting comment is made by the person you like the least.

Vaeyu is an Alpha and vetted warrior from a good family. He has high standing in the clan, and sits on your fathers council. Tall and broad, with dark ink splashed across his angular face and his meaty right arm almost blacked out with intricate tiny tribal markings.

He’s always got something to say and you sincerely wish that you could tell him to shut the fuck up.

Politics don't work that way, unfortunately. “Why would it not be smart? It is tradition, we will perform the rites as we always have, will we not?”

He nods, mulling it over, his lips pursed “Of course I would like to see them performed as they should be but we have…different members attempting this cycle. I would hate for any of our new Omiticayan friends to be put at even more of a disadvantage then they already are”

A surge of protective anger rages through you- years ago you might have lunged at him. But you’ve learned better, about controlling your own feelings. And about dealing with scum like Vaeyu.

You try to keep the appearance that you’re unaffected, for you know it will only fuel him if he can tell that he’s bothering you “I’m assuming you’re talking about Neteyam?” and you want to kill him for doing so.

“The eldest of the Forest children, yes” He goes on and really. The disrespect is dripping from his tone like venom. The fact that he hadn't even had the decency to refer to Neteyam by his name makes

“Neteyam is not a child” you speak slowly and control your tone. Not allowing your pheromones to spike with your annoyance “He’d already passed his rites back home, and is only repeating the process here out of respect”

Your father, ever observant, can see right through your attempt on staying civil and cuts through the tension with his deep timbre “She is right, he has shown nothing but competence since arriving. And from what I have seen, has excelled in training. I trust my daughter's abilities as a karyu. The boy will be given his chance as all others are”

Tonowari is cheif; he’d always given his people the freedom to question him. The openness to have meaningful conversation.

But everyone knew that directly challenging him is off limits.

“Ah. I see” Vaeyu deducts, using his sharp bladed knife to peel the skin of a fruit “Of course, Olo’eyktan. I trust your judgment. We will just have to hope he can keep up; you know the smell of blood draws those nasty creatures in”

The talks stray onto different topics and you try to get over the bitter taste left in your mouth.

You never want Vaeyu to speak of Neteyam again. If it was up to you the older warrior wouldn't even be able to look in his direction. Neteyam was too good for the likes of him.x

You’re more than happy when the man gets up and makes his leave, retreating for the night with his pregnant mate. Once upon a time the sight of his hand on her lower back and her cradling her stomach would hurt you. Now you’re just relieved as you watch them leave.

Your sister gives you a sympathetic pat on the hand.

The dinner on your plate is picked at, you can barely eat with the excitement of seeing Neteyam again bubbling. Tonight is going to be special. You’re going to give him the necklace you’ve been working on. He liked to act bashful, but you knew he loved your gifts and this one was the most important yet.

You offer Ao’nung the rest of your food, not wanting to waste, and try to make your exit.

“You have been very far away as of late”

Of course it can never be that easy.

Your mother is Tsahik for a reason. She is all knowing, with her keen eye and sharp senses, the tribe likes to say she has special Eywa given powers and you believe it. You just absolutely hate when she uses them on you.

Of course she’d notice you being off, even when you we’re trying so hard to keep it hidden.

“I am not sure I know what you mean” you feign innocence “I have been tired, and very busy, yes”

“No” she continues in that tone of hers. Her eyes that are more green than blue boring into you “That is not it. You have been distracted, and if you do not wish to tell me I will not pry, but I need you to recenter”

“Sanok-” you start with a grumble.

“During the festivities, there will be Metkayina from neighboring islands coming in. I want you to think about what we’ve spoken of, about you finding a mate this cycle”

Your ears pin to your head and you can feel your face get hot. No, she’d spoken and when you’d try to insist that you are not going to go through with an arranged marriage she’d dismissed you.

“I am not interested-”

“In performing your duty? You will be Olo’eykte, you will pass the title down to your children. You need heirs, Y/N. By the time I was your age I was already pregnant with Tsireya” Ronal softens, she can tell how uncomfortable you are but this conversation is vital “I want to give you the space to choose. There will be many eligible Na’vi, all looking to court”

You’re tense all over. By the ways she’s speaking you’d think you were an old woman and not one who had just celebrated her twenty first name day.

“Tell me that you’ll at least think about it- Tonowari, please. Help me here. This is important is it not” Your mother plays dirty and calls your father in for backup.

There is not much on Eywa’Eveng that you could deny your father. You are dedicated to him. Closer to him than anyone else.

When he speaks its gentle and encouraging “We just want you to be happy. You are at the age where you should be starting your own family, I want to meet my grandchildren”

You feel trapped, impossibly so.

Mating had been the one thing that you’d refused to surrender to your chosen destiny. Being the next Olo’ekyte could have everything else but you so deeply wanted to find someone who loved you.

You want to tell them that you think you’ve already found a mate. You’re sure your mom wouldn't like it, wouldn't think Neteyam is suitable but your father would support you. You just know it.

It’s not the time.

Instead you just not tersly “I will consider it. Am I free to go?”

“My daughter…” Tonowari frowns, wanting to reach, but keeping his hands at his side anyway.

“Please. I am tired”

Your father just nods. You dont stay around to hear the worried words your family shares.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The moons are high in the dark, star speckled night sky as you lounge in soft grass. You’d never spent much time here, in the little island forest, before Neteyam and yet now it’s become your oasis.

The hidden spot where you could come and release everything. Your fear and doubts are harbored by the trees. They’re good secret keepers.

“You’re distracted tonight” Neteyam remarks as he meets you in the meadow. It always takes him a little longer to get there, he has to wait for his family to fall asleep before he takes his leave.

“Sorry”

You try to put on a brave face, but when he lies down next to you, both of you on your sides facing on another, and places a large, callused hand on your hip you melt.

He doesn't have to say much to make you soft for him, he’s spent months tenderizing your heart.

“Talk to me” Neteyam urges softly as his thumbs rub patterns into your hip bone. “What happened?”

You close your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the comfort. “I’m just tired, Tey. I feel like- I can never really satisfy anyone, you know? And I try really hard to.”

He hums in understanding “I do know what that is like. Is this about your parents?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs. You, after all, are rarely ever silent.

“Back home I was going to be Olo’eyktan and while I accepted it, I was always kind of dreading it. Counting down the days until any semblance of my life being my own was over” you don't know it, but he’d never told anyone this. You listen raptly “The responsibility of making sure everyones taken care of, its alot”

You smile, because yeah. Alot is an understatement.

“I’m just letting you know that I know how it feels. Truly. And whenever you need to; we can talk about it, one eldest sibling to another” Neteyam’s kind words go straight to your head. They make you feel dizzy, so cared for and adored.

He’s what you’ve always wanted. All of your fantasies and desires rolled into one. You’re convinced that Eywa had brought him to you. Carried him to you by ikran back on the strong east wind.

You want to mate with him. More than anything, you want to bond him. Would it scare him off if you told him so? You don't want to lose what hasn't even had it’s chance to fully develop.

“I made you something” Your words seem to shock him, if only for a minute, and he groans and rolls his eyes.

“Another gift? Really, Y/N?”

“Don't pretend you don't love them” you tease as you reach for the small satchel you’d brought with you. You grab at its contents and hold it tight in your hand. You’re nervous, terribly so, as you present the jewelry to Neteyam.

This isn't like the spear, or the blanket or the fruit. For Metkayina, this is serious business.

“Oh” he says as you hand over the necklace that you’d spend countless hours working on. “It’s is gorgeous, wow”

He takes it from you and marvles at the care you’d put into it. The necklace is made of leather, and adorned with pieces of carefully polished dark blue seashells. In the center dangles a single pearl, black as night and rare. You’d shucked an endless amount of clams to find one that felt right.

“Do you accept it?” you question as his eyes trace the piece of jewelry.

“Well, I have not rejected any of your gifts yet” Neteyam jokes dryly “I’m not about to start now.”

He doesn't know then. That if he accepts it then he will be accepting your hand. That he will be agreeing to be your mate. In Metkayina tradition, he’d give you a necklace back, one that would sit right where his bite would on your delicate neck.

He requests that you help him put it on but you decline.

This isn't something to adorn tonight, if he still wanted to wear it in the cold light of day you’d be happy to help him fasten it. Once he puts it on, he can never take it off. You’re sure he isn't aware of the fact and you wont trick him- but also don't have the energy to tell him in that very moment.

“Well I can't wear it because your being weird” Neteyam starts, brows knitted “But I still wanna thank you for it”

“Thank me, huh?” you smile as you reach to pet at his braids. Sweet, sweet man.

“Mhmm” Is all Neteyam says as his hand travels from its place on your hip, down, To play with the hem of your pink skirt. It's very clear what he wants, so you roll over onto your back and spread your legs, making it easier for him to get it.

He works you out of your coverings with ease.

Your needy pussy is sticky- strings of wetness stretch between it and your tweng as Neteyam peels it off. He groans at the heady sight. His nostrils flare and his mouth waters.

“You talk so much about how good I taste” Neteyam grumbles into your skin as he presses deep kisses into the skin of your belly, sinking ever lower. Over your naval. He traces the pretty swirling ink of your tattoos, the ones that cradle your hips and lead him right where he wants most.

He mouths at that tender crease between thigh and labia “But your cunt is Eywa sent, I swear. So sweet”

You're panting, chest concaving intensely as his face disappears between your thick thighs. You feel no shame at him staring at where you’re drenched and throbbing for him. If anything you spread wider, showing him the pretty blushing insides of your light blue gash.

Neteyam dives in, nose first. His snout rubbing at your lips, inhaling your essence eagerly. You can't help but smile, happy that he loves the way you smell. That it’s reciprocated. Two of you so compatible.

When his wide tongue laps over your puffy slit, catching on your swollen nub you cry out. Your hands fly to the back of Neteyam’s head, holding onto the braids for support. Tugging ever so slightly, just on the right side of painful. You hump at his face, shoving him closer.

Neteyam’s a messy pussy eater, he dedicates his whole being to getting you off. He uses his entire face; his mouth but also his nose and his chin and cheeks. Soon enough hes completely messy, covered in your slick as he sloppily feasts on you.

“Oh, Great Mother!” you wail when he sits up a bit, hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, before digging back in. He’s everywhere, there's not one part of your sensitive core that he’s not licked against. “Neteyam!”

When you come for the first time, it's with a violent arch of your back and a squeal. The pleasure makes you seize and shake as it washes over you in a tidal wave. Neteyam rides it out, his mouth following your arching pussy- drawing your orgasm out beautifully.

As you start to come back down, his chin is pillowed on your inner thigh and he's looking up at you with pleased amber eyes. So shy and proud of himself for being able to get you off. His face is sticky and gleaming with your cum. You never want to forget this image of him, you want to engrave this memory somewhere deep and timeless. You think that you will need to visit the Spirit Tree soon.

“Felt good?” he verifies and you grin, nodding, still coming down.

“So good, I love it when you tongue fuck me” you sigh, still spread out for him. Your pussy aches- from over sensitivity. From the need to be touched again.

Neteyam just blushes a little at your vulgar words, sometimes you forget that he’s still very new to all of this. Each time you guys are intimate, he explores a bit more of his sexuality.

He holds your gaze as his fingers begin to toy with your folds. There’s something so erotic about it all, the way that the two of you never break eye contact. Communicating silently as Neteyam rubs at your hard clit. Sharp jolts of pleasure make your hips twitch. But still, you try to be still. Encouraging his tentative touches. When his digit swirls around your hole for a moment before sinking deep your eyes roll until they close and your head presses back into the ground.

You’re meant to be filled, your body designed to squeeze around whatever enters it and not let go. It doesnt care if its a cock or fingers or tongue, your pussy is greedy.

Neteyam bites his bottom lip bloody as he watches your core hungrily eat his fingers. First one, and then two, and then before long he's pumping all there in and out of your wet snatch. A part of him wants to tuck his thumb against his palm and shove his entire fist inside-

He’s rock hard in his tweng, undulating against the ground as he watches your hips chase his hand.

“Knot my fingers” he begs over your pathetic sobs “Please, I wanna feel it.”

It’s too much.

His eager words paired with the constant perfect rhythm in which he’s pumping his digits in and out of you. It’s not hard to grant his request. You cry out as you come, again. This time, you don't stop your body from doing what it instinctually needs to. You reach down between your legs to grab his wrist, firmly pressing his hand to your pulsating pussy. If he wants to feel, you’ll let him. Your knot swells inside of you, impossibly tight, as it locks around Neteyams long fingers.

His wide eyes stare up at you in unfiltered awe as he feels you from the inside. It’s wondrous, like nothing he’s ever experienced. He feels very special in that moment, that he gets to share this with you. Very special and very fucking horny.

“Holy shit” is his clumsy, blunt response to it all. You giggle fondly and shake your head.

“Do you like it?” You inquire as you rhythmically pulse.

He groans and presses his head, his entire face into the safe plush flesh of your thigh “I do” he admits “I want to feel it around my dick so bad”

That starts a whole new round of neediness and the two of you go at it like animals under the bright moonlight, surrounded by fluorescent flora and fauna.

You’d sworn that you’d be smarter- wouldn't stay out as late so that you could go through the upcoming day a little less exhausted but by the time the two of you are done, the sky is painted pinks and purples and the morning eclipse is dawning.

You’re lying with your head pressed to his chest and your leg thrown across his both of his. You know you should get up but you don't want to make the long trek back to the village. You whine about the decided meeting spot as the two of you sit up, knowing that you need to get ready to return.

“Why do we have to go sneaking around in the bush? I do have my own Mauri, you know” you’d sassed him, as you look for your top in the grass.

“And what if someone catches me coming in and out of your place? Yeah, no. I don’t think that is a good idea”Neteyam had protested, flustered at even the thoughts . It would be so obvious.

A frown tugs at your lips at his words. “Would that be so bad?”

There's a pregnant pause before he speaks again “I mean…I thought we had agreed to keep this private. If people start seeing me sneaking in and out of your home at all odd hours it’s not going to be hard for them to put together what’s going on”

Your heart drops a bit at that, and you feel more naked than you had moments before. “What are you…ashamed of what we’re doing?”

“I’m not ashamed…I just don't want that label, Y/N” Neteyam sighs like you’re being unreasonable and it’s like ice water in your veins. “I don't want people to look at me differently because of this”

It's hard to speak around the lump in your throat “Because of what? Me courting you? Why would that cause anyone to feel differently about you?”

“It's just, it’s different for you. There are different expectations in place. You’ve done this before.-”

“As you love to remind me” the laugh that escapes you is humorless as you locate your top and slip it back on. You already feel vulnerable, there's no need to psychically be so too. “ I’ve never once held it against you or made you feel bad about being a virgin, but you constantly throw the fact that I've been with other people in my face.”

“That’s not it-” Neteyam insists as you stand, he tries to reach for you but you side step in and grab your tweng instead. He looks so lost, like he’s trying to untie the knots in his head. You know that Neteyam has a hard time transmuting his thoughts into words and usually you’re patient with him but right now? Right now you’re too hurt to wait for him to find the words to insult you with. “I dont- I dont care if you’ve been with a ton of other people, It doesn't matter to me. That’s not why I feel uncomfortable with the village knowing”

“The mere fact that you’re so eager to call it a ton tells me that it does” you're wrapping the ties of your covering around your tail and ignoring your shaking hands as emotion bubbles up violently “I’ve only ever been intimate with three people, including yourself. Did you know that, Neteyam? I’m not the huge whore that you think me to be”

Neteyam looks down at the ground shamefully. He hasn't even reached for his own tweng yet. It’s like he’s stuck, his head going a mile a minute. Too fast for his body to catch up with.

“When I told you I wanted to court you I wasn't lying. I’m not sure what that means to you, or the people back in the forest, but here it means that I see you as a potential mate. I didn't realize that you’re too embarrassed of me to see me as the same” you’re going to start crying, you can feel it.

This moment had already happened to you, years before. You’d already been rejected by someone you thought wanted you- you never thought you’d allow yourself to happen again.

Eywa, how fucking stupid can you be?

The familiar feeling is devastating. You feel soiled and used.

“If you can just be reasonable- If we can-can talk. I don't know how to make you understand that this isn't all about you” Neteyam is stuttering, finally reaching for his own tweng but you’re checked out.

How does one be reasonable when their heart is breaking?

“It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry that I misread this whole thing. My mistake.”

You’re off before he can get another word in, storming through the foliage as fast as your feet can take you. The tears that had been building only fall once you’re out of eye sight.

You can hear him calling for you, pleading for you to come back.

You leave him there, half naked in the woods.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Iknimaya ceremony comes all too fast.

The days since you and Neteyam’s fight in the forest had all been a blur. You were too busy to focus on your fractured feelings. No one had even truly known about the two of you, so it’s as if life moves on as though it had never even happened.

That might be what’s most painful about it all.

You have duties to fulfill, and you’d like to pretend like they keep you from focusing in on that pain. You help where you’re needed- and even where you’re not. It’s left you drained and bone tired, but distracted enough to maintain.

As you and your sister get ready for the long day, she notices how sluggish you are. Dragging yourself through the motions.

“When was the last time you slept?” Tsireya asks as she watches you dress.

“I’ve been busy as of late, Reya” You take care as you ready yourself. Donning traditional Metkayinan ceremonial drab- your blood-orange tweng is intricate and the shell headpiece you wear connects with your barely there top. You brush your long midnight hair until it’s glossy and bouncing, the ends of it reaching the base of your tail as it falls down your back in waves.

You’d always had a healthy dose of vanity.

You know that you are attractive, pretty. Shockingly so, as you’d been told. Blessed with thick eyelashes and feminine features. Your whole life,many have spoken about how favored an Omega, to which you’d never taken offense. You’d inherited your mothers looks, as had Tsireya. Small. Compact. Unexpectedly vicious.

You use your looks as a weapon, just as everything else, your little sister is well aware of the fact. She knows that you’re overcompensating with appearing attractive for the fact that something has happened.

“I’m worried about you. You can try to fool everyone else, but you’re not fooling me, sister. I know that somethings wrong” Tsireya is sweet, but firm. She’d always had that air around her.

Caring yet severe. She was all Alpha no matter what people might think about her docile temperament.

“It’s not like speaking about it would change anything” you mutter, if anything, it would bring the pain front and center.

“Don’t be a coward, Ma Y/N. You know better than anyone that the only way over something is through it” Tsireya’s blunt, but without an ounce of malice.

She knows how to handle you and knows that tough love is oftentimes better than coddling like comfort when it comes to you.

It works.

“Neteyam rejected my courtship”

“You lie” she accuses in a gasp, and you just glare at her. “But- he’s so interested in you”

“Obviously not” it’s flippant. You don’t even want to meet her eyes. You’d been under that impression too.

“Something is being lost in translation here, sister. Neteyam likes you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I can feel it everytime the two of you are around each other” your sister insists and it’s like salt in the wound.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. It’s not as though this is the first time I’ve been wrong about someone’s intentions for me” the words are hard to admit and taste like acid in your mouth.

“Neteyam couldn’t be any more different than Vaeyu. The two might as well be night and day- this situation can’t be the same” Tsireya insists and you bite your tongue.

“No they’re not the same. But their feelings, or lack there of, are”

Vaeyu had never been particularly kind to you but there had been a time when you naively believed that he truly cared about you.

Before your Iknimaya, which should’ve been the first warning sign, the older warrior had courted you.

He, like Neteyam, had wanted to keep it a secret.

Vaeyu took your virginity before telling you that as an Alpha himself, he would never mate with another Alpha.

You were too much for him. Not at all a suitable mate. He’d be embarrassed to be with you…

The scene that had played itself out just nights before in the forest with Neteyam had been all too familiar.

“Just once” you start, voice shaky as you focus on holding back all the hurt you've felt “I’d like to be wanted back. Truly. By someone who sees me as I see them”

“Oh, Y/N” Tsireya breathes as she grabs your hands and holds them tightly.

You don’t have the time to weep, but it feels nice, standing in your Mauri with your sister for that fleeting moment.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Metkayinan Iknimaya is a difficult and dangerous task to achieve.

The Akula hunt is fierce. An entire team of warriors working to bring down the wild beast. Many had died in their efforts. The massive sharks are armored with very few weak spots. They’re extremely difficult to kill.

Today would be no different. There would assuredly be some injuries- you give a brief prayer to the great mother for no casualties.

The to-be warriors line up on the shore and your mother, Tsahik Ronal, passes each. Chanting over them, and drawing a line across their face- from temple, over the bridge of their noses- to other temple, with white paint.

May the Great Mother take you into her arms. The Sea is your home before your birth, and if you should die, you will return to it in the afterlife.

You try to keep from staring at Neteyam, who’s tall and fierce and armed with the spear you’d given him.

The two of you only meet eyes briefly as he mounts his Tsurak. Right before he sets out. There’s so much unsaid and there’s no time to say it.

Instead you give him a firm nod.

You’d trained him. Had seen him in action. He could do this. You have full faith in him.

He only nods back.

The hunt makes you jittery, lights your blood on fire. You love this. Watching hunters draw first blood and make a clean kill. A primal part of you is dying to get in there. To join the fight.

It all happens in a rush- one minute the warriors are out on Tsurak back, headed for the deep. It’s harder to see where what’s going on as you stand with the crowd on the beach but you know from experience the energy filled pursuit that is going on right under the surface.

This year- it’s quick.

So much quicker than the years prior.

The crowd murmurs, almost confused, as the hunters return to the beach in record time.

They are no longer children.

Behind them, they haul the large carcass of a fully grown male Akula. Ropes secured around the body, netting and the waves helping transport with the sheer bulk of the creature. Sticking out of his left eye, perfectly launched, is the spear that you had crafted for Neteyam.

“Our hunters have returned, as fully blooded men and women of the Metkayina!”

Your father booms in pride, his warm cries whooping along the people as they join in. They’d made it back, all of them, with minimal damage. In record time. With one of the biggest catches you’d ever seen.

There’s hugs and tears. Everyone seems to be embracing one another. The pride is felt village wide and it’s a communal high.

“We will feast tonight!”Varyu cheers, and hoots follow “Tell me, who made the fatal blow? It is as clean a kill as I’ve ever seen”

You already know. You’d known since you’d seen the carvings on the wood- but the newly fledged Hunters push Neteyam forward and confirm it.

Vaeyu’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. It’s comical to say the least.

Neteyam is humble, as he always is. It was a team effort, he claims.

His family beams at him. Jake whooping and Neytiri’s misty eyed. Lo’ak is grinning from ear to ear and Kiri and Tuk clap and cheer for their brother.You remember Lo’ak telling you about how his older brother had been the youngest in their village to ever make a clean kill. You’d been impressed then.

Right now? Right now you are stunned. So proud that you can barely speak. All of those training sessions where Neteyam had doubted his ability to adapt had paid off.

He’s a warrior, as he’s meant to be. Neteyam has reclaimed his place in the world.

Your father goes to Neteyam and places his hands on his shoulders. Beaming. “You have done well and proved yourself amongst are people. I am proud to call you Metkayina”

You want to cry. You’ve never felt such emotion. You know how much this means to Neteyam and all you want to do is go over to him and embrace him.

“As the hunter who solidified the kill, you have first choice during Fertility Season. Tell me, son. Is there anyone who you want to lay claim to?” Your father speaks of the tradition. If the kill can be traced back to a single warrior- they earn the honor of having their pick of mates.

It’s ancient, dated, and most decline. You’re expecting Neteyam to do the same.

Instead, he focuses on you.

It doesn’t feel real. This must be a dream. The docile introverted Omega you’d gotten to know would never lay a claim on you, so boldly. In public. To your father much less.

And yet, he does.

“Ma Y/N” Neteyam calls to you clear and true. He’s chosen these words carefully; they don’t stick to the roof of his mouth “I am yours if you’ll still have me.”

Only then do you notice that the black pearl necklace that you had strung together for him hangs around his throat.

A clear symbol of his acceptance of your courtship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I’m so sorry to end it there on that cliffhanger but guyssssss. We all know she says yes. She’s down so bad for him lmfao

To my omegaverse besties @tru-blubelle @imperihoe @tiredmamaissy and Cinetrix thanks for all of the inspiration and support!

Omega Neteyam is my fucking religion now. I swear. I’m never getting over how perfect he is. Ughhhh. Sweetest bby boi who deserves the actual world. I love writing the juxtaposition of someone who is so incredibly physically attractive- and yet so socially awkward. He really doesn’t know how gorgeous he is. People expect him to be more suave because of his chiseled features and he’s really just an introverted guy who hates being the center of attention.

Okay so lots to talk about here! I introduced some OC’s! I feel like whenever I get to read about a Na’vi OC I’m like instantly in deep because it’s such an interesting culture and they’re such an interesting people!

I adore Akemi. He’s just an all around good guy who stepped up to the plate and took Roxto in when he had no one. Akemi’s husband is also a fun colorful character and I can’t wait to introduce him to you guys in the next chapter!

Vaeyu fucking sucks lmfao I wanted to write a smarmy Na’vi for the realism of it all. He’s everything bad about Alphas. He totally groomed the reader, if that wasn’t clear enough in the story. Tonowari would have him banished if he knew about it because he’s a protective dad and also a good man who hates creeps.

If you need a visual guide to how I picture Na’vi Male Omega’s genitalia you can find that here!

And if you have any questions about my A/B/O Head Cannons or the way that I’m structuring secondary gender in this story, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Neteyam goes into heat next chapter(I had to split this one into two because it was at 18K words long) so get ready for some wild ass smut😂

Please remember that interaction is key when it comes to fanfiction! I'd love to talk to you guys! Let’s escape to Pandora together!

My Taglist for this story is currently OPEN, but full disclosure that if I take the time to give you a tag, I am going to be expecting some sort of feedback.

@thehoneymushroomhealer @persy-the-nugget @tallulah477 @sakurayuki8655-blog @cumikering @adaiasafira @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @akkibear @a-blog-name-2023 @weasleytwinwheezes @siimiasoi @blueslxt-primary @haji-me-mashite @mightyneteyam @kiri-tuk

#neteyam smut #aged up neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #omega neteyam #omega neteyam x female alpha reader #minors do not interact

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heathermehf · 10 months

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Flexibility Easy Stretch Yoga Flow [Video]

#ElderlyStrengthTraining #WeightLoss #SeniorHealth #SeniorsExercise #Elderly Strength Training #Weight Loss #Senior Health #Seniors Exercise

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shoku-and-awe · 8 months

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Do you have a personal ranking of the different convenience stores in Japan? The ones off the top of my head I can think of are 7-11, Lawson, Family Mart, Daily Yamazaki, and Ministop.

This is a great ask, very much my field of interest! But I don't rank them hierarchically so much as.... territorially(? situationally?) because they have different strengths but here it is!

------------------------------ 7-11: The conbini I'm most attached to! Generally has the best bento selection, and also the best-smelling coffee. (All the grind-and-brew coffee machines are basically the same quality, but the 7-11 ones really smell great.)

FamiMa: The best fried chicken! And generally a good chuhi selection. Also has far and away the most iconic jingle, and now I get this absolute bop by Miyachi stuck in my head every time I visit.

Lawson: Best for its special stores! Discount store Lawson 100 was a godsend for groceries and household supplies my first year in Tokyo. And I will stop basically anytime I see a Natural Lawson (aka Natty Law aka Naughty Lad) because they have organic/imported/upscale/health/vegetarian stuff you won't find elsewhere.

Ministop: Great for softserve ice cream and also hotcase and deli items! The deli items feel more homemade than at the Big Three. Also they have halohalo and sticky rice dumplings that I always mean to try.

Daily Yamazaki: Kind of a wild card! These days they have interesting variety and grocery items (the other day I got these kimchis and a liter of unbelievably sweet organic soymilk that was in a plastic bag for some reason), fresh breads/pastries and Japanese sweets, and snacks that aren't major brands. But! Until recently, they were kind of..... hmm. Of the two near me, one was staffed by a very old woman on an oxygen machine who completely ignored you (both things *very* unusual for Tokyo) and one by the absolute tiniest old woman I'd ever seen and a very smiley man who was either her elderly son or somewhat younger husband, both utter sweethearts. The stores were dingy and poorly lit, and the selection was somewhere between basics and bare bones—but also some nights they would sell fresh cream puffs from a French bakery?? Chaotic, kind of a grab bag, some Building 19 vibes (IYKYK). Then in maybe 2018ish, there was a major overhaul and now they are as shiny, well-lit, and antiseptically clean any other chain. If a little less friendly.

New Days: I added this one! Easy to overlook because they're teeny, with a very basic selection, but that's because they're only found inside of JR train stations. I don't think that they're anyone's conbini of choice, but they're there when you need them! (Sometimes.) ------------------------------

Also honorable mentions to Poplar, which I never see anymore (East Tokyo only?), and to Three-F, which seems to have been bought by Lawson, and 🫡 RIP to Sunkus (run by Circle K), which I always liked. When I lived near the red light district, we always used to stop at Tokyo's last surviving Sunkus on our way to see the pharmacy with the goat.

#i am sorry that this became a graduate-level thesis but #i LOVE conbinis #and also i have work that i simply do not want to do.#also wish i could provide goat pics #but they made it VERY clear about no photos of goat

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sunshinetoshi · 3 months

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reunion at the station

kuroo x reader (~1k words)

content (warnings): implied angst from the past but the actual fic is very romcom esque; reader cries a lot lol don’t read if that annoys you

a/n: remember that long fic i mentioned?? she’s only getting 2 parts revealed on this blog. enjoy the first part <3

The crowd was beginning to disperse as commuters either boarded their next train or headed toward the streets. You pushed your bag higher onto your shoulder and glanced around to take in the sights of the once familiar station. A little girl grabbing onto her younger brother’s hand to lead the way home. An elderly man reading today’s newspaper on a nearby bench.

Then you saw it. A head of hair in the distance, towering over passerbyers. Your knees almost buckled but you found yourself step forward, not once taking your eyes off the black hair.

The one you were watching brought his head up slightly, his eyes sporadically glanced around, careful not to bump into anyone while he tried to keep reading off of his phone. You were certain it was him.

Suddenly your feet were glued to the floor, just watching as he got closer and closer. His eyes finally ran over your direction and your grip on your luggage tightens. Maybe he didn’t see you. But right as the thought passes, his eyes quickly flew back to you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He froze in place, mirroring you. Then he was running toward you, darting through the crowd. Never taking his eyes off of you. When he got to you, his embrace was almost a crash. In his arms, you could feel his laughter. Your ears tingled from the sound.

Finally he released his hold and looked over you.

But you couldn’t look at him. Your hands were on his sweater and you could only stare at the collar of the button-up he wore. He smirked and gently lifted your head so you meet his gaze. And just as he had done a hundred times, like a lifetime had not passed, he lightly pinched your nose.

Instinctively you smiled and swatted his hand away.

He chuckled and once again wrapped his arms around you. He took a few breaths before you heard him whisper. He said it softly, but you heard him. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

You tightened your hold around him.

He waited for you to say something in reply. But he looked down, troubled when he felt your body hiccup. You were crying. He gently pulled away from you to get a better look. He called your name.

You brought your hands to your face and began sobbing.

“Hey,” he whispered. Deciding to give you a minute, he rubbed your back and let you cry. After a while though, he noticed the stares people were giving them.

He cooed your name, then repeated it a few more times. “Okay. People are starting to look at us concerned, what’s wrong?” He saw a passing mother and son look at him alertly. He tried to give them an innocent smile. It must’ve been unconvincing as they shuffled away. He turned back to you trying to wipe your tears away - but more kept escaping. At this point he was incessant and tried desperately to get you to at least talk to him. “Y/N, just tell me why you’re crying,” he whisper-shouted at this point.

And just as you had done a hundred times before, you lightly smacked his chest. You whisper-shouted back, “I don’t know why I’m crying you jerk.” You finally looked him in the eye.

While he stood there shocked to hear your voice after so long, you took the opportunity to take in his face. The angles of his features were sharper now. The smile lines a little deeper. The glint in his eyes telling of strength. That one hurt and you almost grimaced in guilt. It may not have just been you, but you sure had to be a part of it.

But he started chuckling. It sounded a little deeper, but it was more than recognizable to you. It was Tetsurou.

You reached up slowly and wrapped your arms around his neck. The motion was familiar, but heavily out of practice. You let out a shaky laugh. It was your third hug in such a short amount of time. But when Tetsurou wrapped his arms around you tightly, it no longer seemed like a silly thought.

When the two of you let go he grinned down at you again. He looked a little breathless, dazed. “Can… can we grab a bite?”

You smiled back and nodded, “Of course.”

He grabbed the duffle bag you had abandoned by your feet and led you away from the station. As you walked, your mind was racing. It all felt so turbulent. Kuroo was the last person you were expecting to see on your arrival. When you looked up at him, you felt all-too familiar feelings rushing back. Yet it felt different. He wasn’t the same boy you left all those years ago. You thought about how much time had passed. How much they have experienced separately. Memories of the last times you were this close kept flashing through your mind.

You lifted your hands up gingerly. You were so hesitant. What if I can’t do this anymore? We’re not the same teenagers we once were. We haven’t spoken in so long. But when you wrapped your hands around Tetsurou’s upper-arm, he gave you a gentle smile. You looked into his eyes and you felt your whole body relax. Your nerves subsided.

Maybe you both needed this reunion. Who knows where it could lead?

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo #kuroo testuro #angst #implied angst #cw angst #tw angst #as always lmk if i missed one!!#<- warnings or anything #it’s really not angst HAHAHA but just in case #☀️tara writes☀️

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constellationandcompendium · 5 months

Text

Writeblr Intro

Greetings traveller!

About Me:

She/her approaching 30

PhD graduate working in heritage

British (obsessed with tea)

Also sings and crochets

Enjoys both Star Trek & Star Wars

Occasional NaNoWriMo participant

Fanfic writer of 15 years making the jump into original fiction (find my fandom blog @thetamehistorian)

Happy to take asks / play tag games etc.

Has a habit of designing covers rather than writing

Second attempt at this blog (main blog this time, cha cha real smooth)

Tends To Write / Read

Sci-Fi & Cyberpunk

Urban Fantasy & Fantasy

Historical

Comedy (this suprised me too)

Introducing My WIPS

A crime thriller with a touch of cyberpunk...

Featuring

Man with habit of doing wrong thing for right reason

Best buds to reluctant allies to ‘I would die for you’

That ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’ meme

Conspiracies and double agents

Lots of angst and hurt (with some comfort)

Wholesome parent / child relationships

Summary

Solaris City has a problem. Whilst the metropolis flourishes, down below in the old mines the Undercity grows wild and dangerous, it’s people cut off from the prosperity above, dreaming of the sun and spreading Haze - an addictive drug.

Elias also has a problem. Working for the Bureau has cleaned his slate but he hasn’t cut all ties with those underground. Now there’s a girl hidden in his flat and something big has been uncovered that has his contacts in a flurry.

With two days to go to a vote on unifying the two halves of the city, and his friend Sebastien caught right in the middle, Elias has a feeling that it'll only take one domino falling for everything to come crashing down.

WIP Tag

First Draft Complete, If Messy (Mind the Plot Holes)

A sci-fi comedy of a ship of misfits...

Featuring

Puns for ship names (and just bad jokes in general)

Captain packing up the ship and all its crew because they can no longer thrive in this household

Overly social parents (please stop inviting my professor over to dinner)

Space worker unions (and aliens)

Learning self-worth and finding strength through working together

Found family

Summary

The United Earth Ship Archimedes patrols the border of charted space. Beyond it - the vast and unexplored reaches of the universe.

It’s an exciting prospect for Aster Kobor, newly graduated from the fleet academy and hoping to make her mark upon the stars. Unfortunately, it only takes a few weeks for Aster to realise that the Archimedes is nicknamed ‘the screw’ for a reason. It’s a ship for the rejects and misfits, those deemed unfit to serve in the frontier ships and command never lets them do anything exciting. Still, Aster is determined to make the best of it and, unbeknownst to her, her meddling Captain is about to give the crew of the Archimedes their chance to show command what they're made of.

Soon a bad reputation is the least of their troubles and, whether the crew like it or not, they’ll have to learn to survive in deep space - where their only certainty is each other.

WIP Tag

Currently Wrangling Vibes Into ~ Characters ~ and ~ Plot ~

A historical novel about determined women, trains, and winning a war…

Featuring

One woman’s obsession with the railways

Code breaking commuters

Breakfasts cooked on a coal shovel

Being accidentally adopted by an elderly fireman and driver duo

Occasional air raid for added ~spice~

Solidarity in the face of adversity and outdated systems

Summary

Bea had always been fascinated by the railways, but her dream of driving one of the locomotives always seemed out of reach. Working the trains is dangerous, dirty, and completely off limits to the fairer sex.

Then the war came and the men went off the fight. Answering the call to help, Bea and her fellow railway volunteers find themselves with an opportunity of a lifetime. Obscured from judging eyes by steam and smoke they shadow the veteran drivers and engineers, learning what they can on the job and hitting the library when they can't.

The trains need to run, they are vital to the war effort. All it would take is one rogue bomb, one mishap to take out a driver and the wheels stop spinning.

Or at least, that's what the station manager thinks.

Currently Doing Research and Initial Planning!

#introductions #wips #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writer

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

Text

AU-gust, Day One: Sculpture Artist

I saw the prompts and this grabbed me by the throat! I wrote it in about an hour, so my apologies if it's not up to my normal quality.

Steve wasn’t good at a lot of things.

He wasn’t very intelligent; while everyone else in town eagerly devoured the latest books delivered monthly by Murray, the traveling librarian, Steve struggled to make it through the first few pages. (He thought it might have been a curse at first, the way that the letters and words moved all over the page. When he had asked Madam Byers, the town witch, she had just smiled sadly at him and, well, he already knew everyone thought he was an idiot. He should really be used to it by now.)

He wasn’t the strongest or most athletic either; that honor belonged to Sir Hargrove and his knights. (Once upon a time Steve had been the one the town was counting on for protection. He was the one getting parades in the streets, catching handkerchiefs thrown by all of the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. He was the son of Sir Harrington, after all.

But when the darkness came, when he took his stand against the creatures that appeared like smoke out of the great forest, his knights – his friends – abandoned him.

All except for Sir Hargrove, for Billy, his – well, it doesn’t matter anymore now, does it? All that matters is that Billy stuck his own sword into Steve’s back and left him to the creatures, only “rescuing” him once the damage had been done. And it did not matter what Steve said, or that there was a mark that clearly belonged to a sword on his spine; Billy, who was shortly knighted by Steve’s own father soon after, emerged the victor, flawless and golden.)

He was no longer the handsomest man in town (not next to Billy, not with scars all over his body.) He did not know a useful trade, given that he was not trained to have such. If he was the best at anything, it was at being a disappointment. An embarrassment. So much for the Harrington name, people still said on his infrequent ventures into town. Such a shame, such a waste.

So no, Steve formerly-of-House-Harrington was not particularly special in any way. If he had had some wit, or maintained some beauty, or was able to discuss the latest tales from court, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps he would have been accepted by the town. Instead, he lived in a small thatched cottage a morning’s ride away from the rest of Hawkins (the only thing his father gave him before taking his name, his money and his protection) and spent his days working in his garden, caring for his few elderly animals, and entertaining the children of the neighboring shepherds.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he did also work on his sculpting.

(The stone was from Robin, a traveling student. She had run into some trouble with her horse while passing through and Steve might not have been a knight anymore, but he still knew how to care for horses. Robin had offered to pay him for his help, but he would not accept it. It was payment enough to have someone his age to talk to. It was nice, to spend time with someone who did not know him as the former knight of Hawkins, as the disgraced noble he truly was; she just knew him as Steve and she saw a potential in him that he didn’t see in himself.

You are good with your hands, she had written in the note that had accompanied the massive piles of stone, delivered straight from the royal quarry. And you have much love in your heart. May this inspire you to see your own strength and beauty once again.)

She had probably expected him to use it to build a well, or perhaps some sort of fence for his small piece of land. But when he looked at the stone – a beautiful, shining white, the likes of which seemed far too grand for his small corner of the world – he could not see it serving such a purpose. No; this was made for something more.

He had never studied the arts; why would he, Steve of House Harrington, future knight of the realm, have had any need to learn what his father believed was woman’s work? Formal training, then, was something he did not have. But he did have fine tools, given to him by Madam Byers; he had a pair of crystal glasses, lent to him by Dustin, his favorite shepherd; and he had ample amounts of time to go slow, to focus on the task at hand. (Not that he really knew what he was creating, just that he was creating something.)

And so the months flew by: summer turned to fall and fall turned to winter, and when Steve was not doing his chores or tending to the young, he was slowly and patiently chipping away at the block of stone that he kept safely sheltered inside his small home, next to the worn-down hearth.

It wasn’t until he had knocked away the final chip of stone, until his bones had rattled with knowing that it was done, it was finally done, that Steve had finally realized just what he’d created.

It was a man, one near his age. He had the long hair of nobility, curled tresses that cascaded down his bare shoulders; he was clad in a simple robe much like the masters of old; large rings adorned his fingers, rings that proclaimed the man in front of him to be of royal blood. His feet were bare, as were his legs, and they were strong; he felt that if he looked closely enough, Steve would be able to see defined muscles underneath skin.

But the most striking part of the statute – aside from his royal dress and stature – was his face: a royal, aquiline nose above lips that were flushed with life and there, nestled under a noble brow, a pair of large, soulful eyes. The eyes were the same color as the rest of the statue, of course, but Steve found that the longer he stared into them, the more he felt that this statue, this man was staring back.

It didn’t seem possible, the longer Steve looked at it – at him. It didn’t seem possible that someone like Steve – the disgrace of Hawkins – could create something so beautiful, so ethereal, so entirely arresting as the man in front of him, because this man was the most beautiful man – human or statue – that Steve had ever seen.

And suddenly, Steve couldn’t bear to look at it. Couldn’t bear to live in a world where the thing that he was most proud of, that he had poured all of his time and attention and love into, was something that could never possibly return it. And even if the statue came alive, somehow, even if this perfect man was human, what would he possibly see in someone like Steve when there was a world of better, smarter, handsomer men out there?

Steve turned and reached for his hammer, the one blunt instrument that remained unused from Madam Byers' gift. He turned back around and, with a mighty cry, swung the hammer at the statue and sent it shattering into a thousand different pieces.

He expected that he would have to spend the rest of the night cleaning up the ruins of the one wonderful thing he had ever done.

He did not expect the stone to shatter and reveal a flesh and blood man standing before him.

The last of the stone fell to the ground and the man took a deep breath. He blinked once, twice, and then his eyes alighted on Steve. The moment their eyes met, the man’s formerly taciturn expression transformed into the brightest smile Steve had ever seen.

And it was a smile that was aimed at him.

“There you are,” the man said. He stepped forward and took Steve’s hand in his own. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down, unable to bear the enduring warmth in the man’s eyes. “I – I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord.”

“No,” the man chastened him, and a warm hand tucked itself under his cheek, pulling Steve’s eyes back to meet his. “You are everything I have been waiting for.”

“I'm afraid you must be mistaken, for I am just Steve. I can offer you nothing.”

“And I am just Eddie, and you are not just Steve,” the man – Eddie – replied firmly. “You are a kind man with a good heart. You care for other people and expect nothing in return. And most importantly of all, you dedicate your time and your love to everything, even things that cannot love you in return. Those are qualities sorely lacking in this world, and that makes them all the more valuable.

“I foresaw you long, long ago Steve of House Harrington,” the man finished quietly, a small smile now on his face. “And I would consign myself to thousands more years behind stone if it meant that one day I would find you.”

Steve did not know when he started to cry, he just knew that he had tears in his eyes. “You do me great honor, my lord.” Reaching for Eddie’s hands, the hands that oh-so-gently held Steve’s face, Steve drew them to his mouth and pressed watery kisses against his rings. “I will spend my life to be worthy of that. To be worthy of you.”

“Dear one,” Eddie said, and he laid his forehead against Steve. “You already are.”

Steve knew that he wasn’t good at a lot of things. He would never be the smartest, or the strongest, or the handsomest, or the most clever man in the world, or maybe even in Hawkins. But as Steve kissed his Eddie – his Eddie, who had travelled across time and magic to reach him – none of that mattered anymore. Because he might not have all of those things, but he did have love.

And what could possibly be more important than that?

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steve harrington my beloved #august fanfic challenge

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darksaiyangoku · 1 month

Text

RWBY Witcher Tales

—The Seventh Paladin—

It was a cool morning in the Kingdom of Céline and outside of a small cottage was a young, blonde-haired boy named Jaune Arc. In his hands, he he held a long stick and came face to face with his opponent; a crudely made dummy of rags and straw. Jaune circled the dummy and delivered several hacks and whacks to it.

Jaune: Hah! Hiyahh! Hah!

Jaune was channeling every ounce of strength into each attack, smirking as he saw bits of straw fall to the ground. With a deep breath, he held the stick up high and smacked the "head" of the dummy with tremendous force, tearing it off.

Jaune: *pants*...maybe I overdid it a little. *chuckles*

The sound of trotting hooves alerted him to a nearby horse and cart. The driver, an elderly man named Barry, arrived on the road to pick up Jaune for work.

Barry: Still messin' around with that stick, young man?

Jaune: It's called 'training', Barry.

Barry: *chuckles* Oh Jaune, I thought you would've learned by now that your trainin' is worth dirt. No commoner in the history of Céline has ever rose to the rank of knight.

Jaune: *smiles* Then I'll be the first! Prince Carson is holding a competition to find worthy candidates and I'm gonna beat every single one of them!

Barry: *laughs* You'd have a better chance of findin' lost Elven treasures than beating a noble! Stop dawdlin' and get on the cart, you'll be late!

Jaune tossed the stick onto the dirt and jumped onto the cart. As Barry rode off, Jaune looked at the bright blue sky as he tried to cheer his spirits. No one ever took his ambition of being a knight seriously, as the only ones who were eligible were the children from the noble class. When he was younger, Jaune used to read fairy tales of simple folk who would accomplish great deeds, like fighting dragons, saving people and becoming heroes. He'd imagine himself in those stories and was desperate to show that they were possible. That a common boy could be something more.

Jaune: *whispers* Just you wait. I'll show all of you and become the greatest knight in all of Remnant!

[Kingdom of Céline - Claremont]

Claremont was a tailor shop located in the city of Céline, owned by Robert Claremont. He was a white-haired man of middle age, yet had the spirit of a youth. He could work on 10 or 15 clothes a day, and they would come out absolutely pristine! Jaune had been his apprentice since he was 10 years old and while he wasn't at Robert's skill level, he was showing good signs of improvement. Today was especially busy and Jaune was sweating from the workload. His eyes strained as he tried to focus on the last stitch of a green tunic.

Robert: Are you alright there, Jaune?

Jaune: Yep! Just gotta finish this... almost there... got it!

Jaune stood up and inspected the tunic, making sure everything looked good. It wasn't the fanciest of clothes but he was happy with his work and wanted to make sure the customer felt comfortable.

Robert: Not bad, my boy. I'm sure the customer will appreciate it. He'll be arriving today. Make sure you have your chin up, we have a lot more orders to complete.

Jaune: Yes sir!

Throughout the day, Jaune was hard at work measuring, cutting and sewing, nearly pricking his fingers a few times. One by one, the clothes were flying into the hands of satisfied customers. Soon, the last 5 minutes of work time was approaching and Robert was about to close up the shop. However, he was stopped when someone placed his foot between the door. Robert raised his eyebrow in confusion and remained calm as he tried to shoo the unruly stranger away.

Robert: *ahem* I'm sorry, but we are about to close now. You're free to visit on Monday morning, now please remove your foot from my door.

Stranger: I'm just here to collect my order. It won't take long at all. Please?

Robert: I- oh alright, but make it quick.

The stranger opened the door and stepped inside. Jaune's face turned pink as soon as he saw her. She had messy, white-blond hair and wore an ashen black leather corset, a tight green shirt, ripped black trousers and long, cream-coloured leather boots. On her back, she carried two shortswords, a bow and a quiver of arrows. Two features stuck out to Jaune the most; a pair of violet, cat-like eyes and a silver-coloured medallion in the shape of an eagle's head.

Jaune: *blushes* U-Uh um *ahem* D-Do you have y-your ticket, ma'am?

Stranger: Right here, darling. *shows ticket*

Jaune hurried to the back room and returned holding a crystal white sleeveless dress.

Jaune: I-I hope it's to your s-satisfaction, Mademoiselle.

The Stranger glanced at it and picked it up. She gave Jaune a satisfying smirk and bowed her head to him and Robert before departing. Jaune leaned over the counter, still smiling from ear to ear.

Jaune: Wow.

Robert: I wouldn't get too attached with the likes of her, Jaune.

Jaune: Hm? Why not? She seemed nice.

Robert: If you knew the line of work she does, you'd stay far away from her as possible. But enough about that, you did very well today. *smiles* Good work. Here you go, *tosses purse* your month's pay.

Jaune's hands nearly fell to the floor as he caught the purse. It was quite heavy. He slowly opened the bag and his eyes gleamed. Inside were 150 silver lien coins.

Jaune: My god! M-Maître Robert, this is way too much. I-I can't accept-

Robert: *chuckles* It's perfectly fine. You've come a long way these past two years and I am proud to have you as my apprentice. You've earned this coin. Take it.

Jaune was in awe and rushed over to hug his Master. Bidding goodbye, he left the shop and strapped the purse on his belt. Jaune walked with a skip in his step, not caring about who looked at him. But the further he walked, his happiness started to fade. He stopped in the middle of the street as the image of the silver lien pieces burned into his memory. It was a lot of money and Jaune knew that if he kept improving, he could make enough for his family and support them alongside his two older sister's jobs. But what would that mean for his desire to be a knight? Should he just give up? Stick something more normal and safe?

WHACK!

Suddenly, Jaune was knocked over as a sharp pain hit his back. He stumbled across the floor and his purse tore from his belt, the silver flying everywhere.

Jaune: *grunts* Agh! Ow!

Jaune looked up and glimpsed at his attackers. His eyes shrank as he recognised Cardin Winchester, son of the Bishop of Céline. Surrounding him were his friends, Dove Bronzewing, Skye Lark and Russel Thrush. Each of them bore an emblem of a golden cross that was crudely sewn onto their chests.

Cardin: Well, well, well. That's a lot of coin there, Arc. Now where would a commoner like you find such treasure?

Jaune: *pants* Agh... it's mine... I... earned from my job...

Cardin: *snorts* Why would a tailor waste his good fortune on someone like you? In fact, this *takes purse* should be donated to those who rightfully deserve it. The Eternal Fire thanks you for your contribution.

Jaune: Hey give that back!

Jaune sprang up and tried to grab his purse, only to be kicked in the stomach by Skye and Dove. He doubled over and fell to his knees and Cardin laughed sadistically.

Cardin: Oh give it up. You've been weak as a lamb ever since we were little and even if you could beat me, your ass would be sent straight to prison along with the rest of your family.

Skye and Dove held Jaune's arms while Cardin and Russel started punching and kicking him. He tried to escape, but the grip was too tight. His face and body stung with intense pain. Cardin was about to deliver the finishing blow when a hand gripped him tight and pulled him away.

Cardin: Hey! What do you think you're-

Cardin backed away in a rare moment of fear as he saw who interfered. Jaune gasped as he recognised the woman who purchased the dress from his shop.

Cardin: W-We need to run. Now!

Russel: What? But-

Cardin: Do as I say! If we stay here, she'll place a curse on us!

Skye and Dove dropped Jaune to the ground and followed Cardin and Russel as they ran away screaming. Jaune coughed and wheezed, still feeling the injuries dealt to him. The Stranger offered her hand and lifted him back up.

Stranger: Are you okay, darling?

Jaune: Agh! A-A little. T-Thank you, Madamoiselle.

Stranger: It's no trouhle and please, call me Robyn.

Jaune: O-Oh. Well thank you, Robyn. I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc.

Robyn: Nice to meet you. Who were those boys ans what was their problem with you?

Jaune: Ugh, they're Cardin Winchester and his little gang called 'The Eternal Fire'. They like to cause trouble for all the kids here, but especially nonhumans. Lately, I've been their favourite target. Why? I have no idea.

Robyn: Kids can be pretty cruel. What's stopping you from fighting back?

Jaune: *sighs* Even if I wanted to, I'd just get into trouble. They're all sons of nobles and if I defend myself, I'll be the one blamed for everything.

Robyn: Hmmm, I see. Tell you what, why don't I get you cleaned up and give you a hot meal?

Jaune: Wha-? I-I don't-

Robyn: *ruffles Jaune's hair* It's absolutely fine. After what you've been through, you could use some cheering up.

[Reynard Tavern]

Inside Reynard Tavern, Robyn chuckled as she watched Jaune devour a plate of sausages and baked potatoes.

Jaune: *munches* Ow!

Robyn: You might want to slow down a little. You haven't even healed yet from the beating.

Jaune: *feeble laugh* Sorry. I guess I was a little hungry.

Robyn: Clearly.

Jaune: *mouthful* Sho waz za dreff fo?

Robyn: ...

Jaune: *gulps* I meant to ask what the dress was for? Are you going to Prince Charles' banquet?

Robyn: Oh I wish. No, I have a mission to take care of that involves me looking my best.

Jaune: Hm? What is it?

Robyn: *chuckles* Nothing to worry yourself with. *ruffles his hair*

Jaune: Hmph. *small pout*

Robyn: So tell me, Jaune, what's it like working for a renowned tailor like Robert Claremont? He doesn't let just anyone work for him.

Jaune: Well he and my father used to go to the same school when they were children and, on my 12th birthday, it was decided that I'd become his apprentice as a favour. I wasn't sure at first, but I grew to like it. We get to meet so many interesting customers. Some of them local and some of them from other parts of Remnanf.

Robyn: That's wonderful to hear. I bet your family must be proud.

Jaune: Yeah I guess, but... being a tailor isn't really what I dream of.

Robyn: Hm? Then what is?

Jaune: I want to be a knight. A hero to defend my kingdom! Riding on horseback in shining armour! Brandising a sword at my side! Earning the glory of the kingdom!

Robyn: So you want fame and fortune? Not very chivalrous.

Jaune: Hey, it isn't about that! I just... I wanna prove to everyone that a commoner can be jusf as worthy as a noble to don armour. *clenches fist* That blood and status don't determine success.

Robyn: Hmmmm, I see. That does sound admirable and I do agree with you. Blood and status mean absolutely nothing. It's a flawed system designed to cause mistrust and anger among us all. *taps table* But first thing's first, do you even know how to use a sword?

Jaune: Um, I do practice a lot every morning before I go to work. I don't have a waster, but I use a stick.

Robyn: And do you practice with anyone at all?

Jaune: *shakes head* The things I know about sword fighting were from old books. The stances, the techniques, everything.

Robyn; I won't lie to you, you won't have a chance at joining the knights.

Jaune: ...o-oh. *hangs head*

Robyn; Which is why I'll train you myself.

Jaune: *looks up* What? Really?

Robyn: Of course. If you are serious about this and willing to put in the work, then I'll train you.

Jaune: Thank you so much! *grins*

Robyn: *raises hand* Don't expect this to be an easy ride, however. It will be gruelling. You will be beaten, bruised and bloodied almost daily. We'll treat our sparring sessions as real fights. Can you handle that?

Jaune: *nods head* Yes Robyn! I won't let you down!

Robyn; *smiles* Good. We'll start tomorrow. *leaves table* Bonne nuit.

Jaune waved goodbye as she left the tavern. His eyes sparkled with elation. For the first time in his life, someone didn't mock his ambition and was actually going out of their way to help him achieve it. He smiled again and made a vow not to let Robyn down.

[Arc Cottage Field]

Jaune yelled out as he was forced to the ground from Robyn's waster. His face, arms and legs were covered with bright red bruises and his lungs were burning fiercely. Robyn stood over him playing with her waster.

Robyn: I think it's time we took a break.

Jaune: *wheezing* No... I... can still... carry... on...

Robyn: Jaune, we're stopping here. You're tiring yourself out and that's dangerous. Your enemies will take advantage of that and kill you. So let's take a break.

Jaune: *groans* Fine.

Jaune and Robyn sat by a tree and she pulled out a small, glass bottle filled with light blue liquid. She gently poured some of it over Jaune's wounds, making him grit his teeth as it stung.

Robyn: I know it hurts, but you have to bear it. This medicine will help and you'll be fighting fit in no time.

Jaune: What is this thing?

Robyn: It's called Sunshine. It's a mild form of potion designed for healing.

Jaune: *winces*This is mild?

Robyn: Compared to the other potions I have. If you took those, you'd be in big trouble.

Jaune: *chuckles* I have to say, you're much nicer compared to what everyone says about Witchers.

Robyn: *raises eyebrow* I don't seem to recall mentioning I was a Witcher.

Jaune: Well you're not exactly hiding it. Aside from your eyes, your medallion is giveaway.

Robyn: *laughs* I suppose I haven't done a good job of blending in. I am curious that you never mentioned anything until now, though.

Jaune: That's because I wanted to see if any of the rumours were true and so far, you're not living up to them at all. You saved from Cardin, bought me a hot meal and are even going out of your way to train me. I'd say you're a good person.

Robyn: *smiles* You're a kind boy, Jaune. Never lose that. How are your wounds?

Jaune: They should be healing up soon.

Robyn: Excellent! Although since you know I'm a Witcher, I'm going to take this up a notch. *taps waster in her hand*

Jaune: Ehehe, you're joking... right?

[6 Months Later]

For many days and nights, Jaune trained hard. His body had seen a slight growth in height and muscle, he was more agile and his technique was more focused. Today was the last day of summer and many of the citizens were invited to Prince Charles' castle for a banquet. No matter their social status, everyone eas welcome be they peasant or noble. The Arc Family gathered with everyone in the courtyard and clapped along as Noir and Blanc, the youngest twins, joined the dance circle.

Saphron: Whooo!!! Go Noir!

Rouge: Show them how it's done, Blanc!

Verte: Hey Jaune, why don't you join in? Who knows, you meet even find a lucky lady. *winks*

Jaune: Wha- Verte! *blushes* Th-That's not why I'm here!

Rouge: Yeah, yeah, you're here for the swordfighting contest. Try to lighten up a little, we're just having fun.

Jaune: Hmph!

As the morning turned to evening, the main event was about to be begin. Arriving in the courtyard was the young man himself, Prince Charles of Celiné. He had ashen black hair with a large, cyan streak at the front, emerald green eyes and wore a long, white linen tunic that stunned the crowd. Beside him was his best friend and leader of his Six Paladins, Orlando Lima. He was tall and green-haired, with brown eyes and wore lightweight green armour. Charles turned around to see his audience as they bowed to him. After a few minutes of speeches, it was time for contest to commence. However, this was no ordinary contest, as Charles had made an interesting addition to the rules. The winner would be offered an official membership into the Paladins. Within the crowd, Jaune soon became nervous. There was no way he could compete with the other swordsmen, he had only trained for six months. One by one, many of the compeitors had been defeated and standing victorious was his old enemy; Cardin. Jaune was about to turn away until his brothers blacked his path.

Blanc: Come on, big brother! Go!

Noir: Yeah! You got this!

Jaune: Hold on, I- gwagh!

Jaune was pushed into the centre where he came face to face with Cardin, who laughed mockingly..

Cardin: Oh this is too perfect! The Eternal Fire has blessed me with victory if he sent you as my challenger.

Jaune: L-Listen Cardin, I-

Cardin: Don't worry, Arc. I'll make this quick as to not humilate you. Haaaaah!!! *runs*

Cardin raised his waster high into the air and tried a downwad slash. Without even thinking, Jaune parried the incoming attack and elbowed him in the chest, staggering him. For a moment, Cardin was in shock but quickly regained is composure as he resumed his attacks. Jaune dodged each one with graceful agility and thwacked him from behind. The crowd gaped in excitement and intrigue, as did Charles and Orlando. Cardin, however, was gerting angrier and carelessly thrashed around. Jaune blocked and countered each strike and landed several blows across Cardin's stomach, arms, shins and his face. Cardin reached his limit and yelled as tried to thrust, only to be kicked to the ground as Jaune disarmed him. He couldn't believe it. He had lost. Jaune put his waster back in its sheath and bowed his head to the Prince.

Charles: *claps* Marvellous! Absolutely marvellous!

Jaune: Thank you, Your Highness.

Charles: What's your name?

Jaune: It's Jaune. Fourth child of the Arc family and the first son.

Charles: Hm. I don't think I've heard of the Arc family before.

Jaune: *chuckles nervously*We're not exactly famous. We're a common family with jobs like servers or tailors.

Orlando: And yet your technique with a sword was impressive. You must have had an excellent teacher.

Jaune: You could say that.

Charles: *smiles* Well now since there's no more challengers, I declare Jaune Arc as the winner!

Jaune: Excuse me?! Y-You mean I get to be one of your Paladins?

Charles: *nods head*

Cardin: What?! *gets up* Your Highness, I demand that he be disqualified from this contest! He had no right to join this contest in the first place! He's not of noble blood!

Orlando: Now, now settle down. The contest was open for everyone to compete in. Status doesn't matter at all.

Charles: And Jaune won fair and square. As such, he will be a squire for the Paladins. *turns to Jaune* Do you accept?

Jaune: *bows* Yes, Your Highness!

The room erupted with applause and Jaune's face turned rose red with embarrassment. But the loudest shouts and claps came from his family. He had done them proud. Amidst the cheering was a violet-eyed woman in a hooded cloak, smiling proudly. History was made that day; the day when the Seventh Paladin had arrived.

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