#The Chieftains 2

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Whatever you do, definitely don't think of the fact that Stoick's fate was completely at the mercy of Dragon Masters' (self-proclaimed or otherwise) several times in his life and the final time was fatal.

[islandiis]

send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with

see into Fannar's history / accepting

There is yelling from somewhere behind him, and his breath comes out in short, jagged pants. In his arms, he clutches a loaf of bread he stole from an open window.

"Vagrant!" The man hollers, and Leifur can hear the door swing open after him. He tries his best to run that little bit faster. "Thief!! You little—"

He knows he is going to be in trouble, again. The goði has already made clear that thievery is not tolerated, although the vagrancy — that always seems to get a pass. That said, he's stolen from this man before and - aside from a stern telling off by the local chieftain - nothing had come of it. The man would have been given the authority to enact justice as he saw fit— the responsibility fell on his own shoulders, and yet he had not taken the boy as slave with a sickle to the throat as soon as he saw his sticky-fingered little self prowling around his cattle.

It's not like Leifur particularly realises, though. The talkings-to from the goðar, fearless enforcers of law and justice in their land, receive only blank stares. The instruction to stay away from this man's farm is never heeded, nor are the instructions not to steal. He would be enslaved as punishment, were he a human. He's been smacked upside the head a few times, but it appears not to phase him as he goes tottering off back into the countryside merely an hour later. He is a strange, strange little boy — everyone knows him for who, and what, he is. He is their land, a God, a strange little boy that nobody will strike too hard. How do you punish he who is God's given, after all? Nobody dares attempt.

Leifur skitters across a thin river on the outskirts of the man's property, and turns back when the man comes to a halt. He jabs a finger towards Leifur.

"You owe me work," The man demands. "Thieving little bastard. You've stolen from me twice now, I remember you. I could have you, all legal! Granted by the chieftains themselves. Be lucky I'm merciful, you hear me?"

Leifur just stares at him, the loaf held protectively to his chest. After a second, the farmer spits in his direction, and appears just short of stamping his foot like a petulant child.

"Dumb little fucker. You never say a fucking word, do you? Don't you come back around here, you hear me? I'll have you worked to the bone."

Leifur slowly takes a bite of the crust of the bread, all without breaking eye contact.

The farmer just sucks air through his teeth and turns back to his little stead, cursing loudly enough that his cattle start, and Leifur trots off. He will share this bread with his friends, tonight — although he always ends up eating most of it.

[belghast]

Flames Didn't Need Fanning

Flames Didn't Need Fanning - My mission to get Fan the Flames up and running didn't really pan out in Path of Exile and an attempt to explain GW2 Mount vs Dragon Riding.

Shocking to no one… I’ve found myself back maining a Righteous Fire character. This time, I converted my Volcanic Fissure of Snaking Chieftain over to Righteous Fire, and in the grand scheme of things, it is going pretty well. I do not feel anywhere near as strong as my Juggernaut did, but for playing a very tanky Righteous Fire character, this might be a viable alternative to Inquisitor. I am…

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it. 

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?  

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits. 

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong. 

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch. 

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius. 

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight. 

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud. 

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child. 

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader. 

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air. 

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you. 

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream. 

And he turns. 

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from. 

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart. 

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him. 

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast. 

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual. 

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . . 

You are brought to his tent, screaming. 

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock. 

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood. 

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot. 

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should. 

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle. 

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately. 

It’s just that none of them were portents of war. 

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless. 

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you. 

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself. 

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself. 

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?” 

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up. 

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know. 

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen. 

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good… 

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful 

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

[cherocarofficial]

1955 Pontiac Chieftain 2-Door Hardtop

[synesthete-sylke]

final few rain life designs!!

chieftain scav ren my beloved. he's so silly looking; i do prob need to update bigb once the watcher dlc comes out though :bb

please talk to me in the tags abt these guys, i want to hear people's thoughts!

1 | 2 | 3

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Golems, Orcs, & loser party that got TPKed by bugs (<3)

He's so competent, I love him. I really appreciate that post pointing out that this whole party is pretty near the top of the game in terms of genuine competency at adventuring. It's hard to tell when we rarely see other adventurers.

Just a few pages later, Senshi seamlessly takes out 3 golems on his own!

Water fountain shaped like a lion head!

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Senshi has just been single-handedly keeping the dungeon from getting so dangerous that the Elves get to bully their way in, huh. Do you think dungeon experts have been wondering what's taking so long, and will one day find out that it's this one weird dwarf. I hope so.

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I like the dragon being so goat-like.

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HUZZAH!

Side note: I think an ideal live action Senshi would be played by Nick Offerman.

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Marcille and the orc chieftain fighting while Senshi pointedly makes bread gives me such "The Last Supper" vibes - that is, the song in Jesus Christ Superstar. Two people having an increasingly vicious argument over dinner while everyone else in the room says increasingly loudly, "Wow, this food is great!!"

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HEY LOOK THE NEXT CHAPTER STARTS WITH MY MAN!!

I'm sure this isn't novel analysis but man I like how directly Kabru's party mirrors the original Touden party. (Side note: I wish each party had a name that wasn't just the name of the party leader...)

Toudens':

6 members

3 fighters (Laiois, Shuro, Namari)

2 mages, 1 for damage (Marcille) and 1 for healing (Falin)

1 lockpick (Chilchuck)

2 long-lived (1 dwarf, 1 elf)

4 short-lived (3 humans, 1 halffoot)

3 men, 3 women

4 tall, 2 short

1 Easterner

leader is a mall tallman fighter

lockpick is halffoot

1 mage is tallman, 1 is long-lived magic-heavy race

1 fighter is a dwarf

Kabru's:

6 members

3 fighters (Kabru, Kuro, Daya)

2 mages, 1 for damage (Rin) & 1 for healing (Holm)

1 lockpick (Mickbell)

2 long-lived (1 dwarf, 1 gnome)

4 short-lived (2 humans, 1 halffoot, 1 kobold)

4 men, 2 women

3 tall, 3 short

1 Easterner

leader is a male tallman fighter

lockpick is halffoot

1 mage is tallman, 1 is long-lived magic-heavy race

1 fighter is a dwarf

A) it's obviously a solid party composition in terms of classes, and playing into D&D stereotypes (born of Middle Earth, as many D&D stereotypes are) of correlations between PC race and class.

B) Ryoko Kui was like, "There are going to be PARALLELS in this story and you are going to APPRECIATE THEM", and she was so goddamn right. Subtle themes are great but you know what's even better? Like 5 different really overt themes that are all happening all the time and interweave so constantly that subtlety is created in the infinite nuances of overlap. Eat or be eaten and to eat is to live is to want and understanding is compassion but it's also violence and we're all incredibly different and we're all incredibly the same and we're all trying to eat or be eaten in an elaborately connected web of life, and--

I want an orchestral arrangement of this story.

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I'm not carefully counting all winged lion motifs but I AM going to count the number of Kabru Winks(TM). We're at 3 in this chapter.

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EXQUISITE SMASH CUT

[gallus-rising]

dungeon meshi loreposting again: orc addition

it always seemed kind of weird to me that Zon, the orc chieftain, evacuated the community to the safer upper floors while leaving his much younger sister (Leed is 14 which is the age of majority for orcs. she has only just recently become an adult) behind to keep an eye on the now dragon infested home settlement

there's a few personality differences to help explain that. Zon is a new chieftain and is trying to take a more cautious approach when dealing with the dual threats of monsters moving into upper floors and a increasing number of adventures on the island. Leed is a hot-blooded youngest who thinks they need to fight back

but if that's all there is to it why couldn't Zon be the one to stay behind while telling his younger sister "hey, we're moving the women/children/elderly to the upper floors for safely. you take a few warriors and defend them from the adventures"

and note that orc women are considered noncombatants. why does Leed, a young woman, have such a loyal group of warriors? as the chief's younger sister she probably has special privileges, but it's pretty reasonable to think that these big tough men might get a bit uppity about following little girl when the chief's not there to protect her, and "i kinda know who Senshi is" still seems like a flimsy reason to not kill a group of intruders (that has an elf with them!)

character design note

Leed is perhaps drawn with the palest skin/fur out of all the orcs we see. since her eyes are so large it's much easier to tell what color they are vs most other orcs but it seems like pale blue eyes are at least uncommon. she is also the only orc we see with white hair.

CONCLUSION 1: Leed is albino

another design note

baby orcs are born with white stripes (like baby boars 🥺) which they grow out of. from the example of what is clearly baby Leed we see the stripes are harder to notice on paler fur, so orcs with pale fur likely "lose" their stripes at a younger age

CONCLUSION 2: albino orcs are seen as mature, strong warriors, or otherwise special in some way. there's even precedent in the dungeon meshi universe for individuals with unusual skin/fur color to be given special status. despite not being the queen's actual children/grandchildren Flamela and her sister were the only 2 people in line for the throne because they're Elf Melanistic

FINAL CONCLUSION: as Zon's younger sister Leed is in a position to personally push back against his orders. Leed wants to stay and fight the dragon? ok, there's plenty of fellow battle hungry warriors ready to rally behind and follow the most specialist murder baby in the dungeon

[fleursbending]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. | Neteyam Sully

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : idk if u write pure angst but, but, but i have a request. what about a neteyam x fem!reader where whenever she is in danger he always manages to get there in time to save her? something like '2 times he's in time and 1 time he's too late' [or almost too late, if u r not in the mood for a bad ending] (?) sorry if this doesn't make sense, english is not my first language :((

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : neteyam x fem!omaticayan reader

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡��𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : hi! this request got so much love so here goes nothing. you didn't specify if you wanted the reader to be human or na'vi, so i picked what i thought would best flow with the narrative :3. i slightly deviated from what's canon in the film as well. sorry, this took so long to get out and some of the tags were not working. - once again, feedback is much appreciated. enjoy!! (also i highly suggest listening to waiting room by phoebe bridgers whilst reading this.. i would link it but they took it off spotify).

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, injuries, angst, fluff, character death, blood, some cussing, mild gore (descriptive fight scenes), neteyam sickeningly in lword, established relationship, sully family being <3333, heartbreak!!!!! reader is a badass warrior.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 8k words !1!1

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @eywas-library @ghoulbli @ellabellabus07 @loves1ckgirl @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @keijikunn @nijirozzz @eywas-heir @mymelodynumber1fan @kalims @bammtoli @blahehblah @iloveyomama44 @babamiasworld @rreyysol @stomach-bugg09 @xoxo-periwinkle-skies @23victoria @mashiromochi @grierpilots @buttercake2234 @bwormie @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @neteyamoa @gamorxa

𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 :

Thanator - or the Na'vi name Palulukan (meaning "dry mouth bringer of fear") is a carnivorous animal native to the forests of Pandora.

Yawntu - a loved one, lover, beloved person. This is commonly used as a term of endearment.

Woodsprites - or the Na'vi name Atokirina is a seed of the Tree of Souls that lives on Pandora. These seeds, according to the Na'vi, are very pure and sacred spirits.

Skxwang - a person who acts/is a moron or an idiot.

Mawey - a term equivalent to the human version of "stay calm/ be calm".

Awa'atlu -  a Metkayina Clan village off the coast of the Eastern Sea.

Uturu - a Na'vi tradition stating that any refugee seeking sanctuary must be granted safe harbor.

Skimwings - or the Na'vi name: Tsurak is a Pandoran creature inhabiting the tropical oceans. The Metkayina clan and other reef clans use the Skimwing for hunting larger prey at the surface or to dive deeper. It is also used as a mount during combat.

Melìew - your mother's name in this story.

Olo'eyktan - the clan leader is one of the most important members of a Na'vi clan and is similar to a chieftain. The leader is in charge of the clan and may rule along with their mate.

Tsahìk - the spiritual leader of a Na'vi clan, and the most important member next to the clan leader. The job of the Tsahìk is to interpret the will of Eywa, guide the clan spiritually, and perform important ceremonies such as Uniltaron and, in rare cases, the consciousness transfer.

Tulkun - a large, intelligent marine species native to the oceans of Pandora. Each Metkayina member engages a lifelong bond with a tulkun early in their life, whom they call their spirit brother/sister.

Payakan - Payakan is a young tulkun who befriends Lo'ak, one of Jake Sully and Neytiri's children, after saving his life.

Neteyam and yourself were a force to reckon with. Your souls are intertwined and saved for one another. It was unspoken throughout the clan that you would be each other's mates when the right time came. An official seal, partners for a lifetime - even once your spirit settles with Eywa.

That's how it was supposed to be.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, he had been worried that due to his father's insistent training, he would have missed the date you'd planned. As he made his way through the clearing of your "secret spot", he immediately halted. Getting into a defensive stance as he reached for his bow and arrows.

You stood still, while a few meters away from you - a Thanator crept closer and closer. Y/n had not thought to bring her bow and arrows, only a hunting knife.

For once she had not thought to bring more protection, just wanting to be at peace with her favourite person. She didn't know she would stumble into any trouble, they weren't even that far from home.

In the Omaticaya clan, you were the most sought out for your hunting skills. But nothing could prepare you for this. While hand-on-hand combat was something you continued to learn from Toruk Makto, you'd only seen a Thanator in the wild very few times. You knew to never engage, hide and calm your breathing - do not make contact.

But it was too late for that now, wasn't it?

Neteyam's heart missed a beat, but the arrow he aimed at the Thanator didn't. It pierced through one of its legs. Letting out a ferocious raw as it barred its teeth at you both. He didn't stand down, shooting another arrow - this time sinking into its other leg.

The Thanator let out a low whine, its eyes calculating. Before pivoting and disappearing back into the jungle.

It was silent for a few moments, the adrenaline still ramping itself up in both your bones. Making your way over to him you brought him into a hug, leaning your head on his chest.

It felt like leaves had been shoved down your throat as you struggled to speak from the sheer shock. "Always my savior, thank you 'Teyam."

He scoffed, smoothing down your braids and pressing his lips to your forehead not letting up. He muttered against your skin, so gently.

"That could have gone a lot worse, yawntu." His eyes flittered around your surroundings, his ears perked up and tail swooshing in high alert still.

Squeezing his shoulders, you tried to ease some of his tension. Rubbing your nose against his, before taking a step back.

"But it didn't! My warrior, the mighty Neteyam Sully! The crowd goes wild, ahhhh!" You cupped your hands around your mouth, making a show of it all.

Rolling his eyes at your childish actions, he bent down retrieving what his dad called a "picnic mat" and the basket you had hand-woven for these special occasions.

"Come on, silly. Let's head back, the Thanator could still be around for all we know."

You pouted at his words, accepting the free hand he held out for you.

"What about our date?"

"We could do it at the stream closer to home."

"Okay fine, I can get behind that."

He ruffled your hair, admiring your feline-like eyes that squinted at the gleaming sun. Your nose scrunching at the force of it all.

Yeah, he'd never get tired of this.

His soul felt electrified whenever he was in your presence. You brought out a side of him that he concealed to try to live up to the mantle of "the golden child".

You were aware of the pressure and how tiring it made him feel. The demand was ultimately too much for someone as young as him to carry on his shoulders sometimes. But he looked up to his parents, and Y/n couldn't blame him for doing so.

He's your other half, and you'll always support him and his endeavors.

That's why you loved moments like these, not including the Thanator. But you felt reassured that he'd always have your back, as you would with his. It felt like second nature to you at this point.

Loving Neteyam.

This was the way of life for you both, and while it sometimes got a little messy - you always found your personal ways back to one another. Even when duty calls, even if you only catch glimpses of each other for a few days.

He would always leave a mark on you, whether it was the multitude of armbands he would weave intricately for you. The ones he'd whine for you to wear so your clan knew of his intentions as if they didn't already. Or perhaps a searing kiss full of yearning and a lifetime of promises.

Neteyam kept to himself a lot, due to his constant strenuous training he didn't mingle like other kids his age would. Sure maybe with the elders, but he didn't exactly have a core group of friends his age - only his family.

And you, you.

His normalcy amongst the ever so often brewing chaos. A semblance of ease always coursed through him even when you'd bask in each other's presence in silence. He greatly valued anytime he had with you, and when he wasn't with you. Neteyam would always think of you and worship the ground you walked on.

Like how you felt loving him was second nature, the thought of you circling his mind came as easy to him as the action of breathing.

That's who you are to each other, always filling in the cracks. Not leaving a rock unturned, words did not have to be spoken out loud to prove your inclination to one another. It was already written in both of your dispositions.

A devotion so boundless does come with conflict though.

But you didn't ponder on that for the time being, instead, you let Neteyam guide you back home. The date had yet to even properly start.

If only you knew he'd be called back to his duties as the chief's son.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

This wasn't the plan. All Lo'ak had wanted to do was see some sort of wreckage that had been left behind from the war his father had led.

You were going to stay behind but Tuk insisted she wanted you to come with them, and that you had to join her. There was no way you could deny her cute pout and glassy amber eyes.

So you did just that, you accompanied them.

Time seemed to escape you all, too enthralled by what was left of the wreckage from what seemed to be a demon-flying mechanism of sorts that had been brought down. The foliage that surrounded you all as Woodsprites twinkled and fluttered with the soothing breeze.

After you all got back down from the tree and found Kiri, it was time to make the trek back home.

"We really need to head back before the Eclipse comes kiddos. Come on, move it! Let's go!" You mused, urging them to quicken their pace.

You halted as Lo'ak and Spider peered down at a large footprint.

"What is it?" Kiri insisted.

"We're always supposed to be home by eclipse", Tuk worried. Y/n patted her head in comfort as she looked down at the marking molded into the mud.

"That's way too big for a human", Lo'ak noted.

"Avatars?" Spider questioned in response.

"Maybe..." Lo'ak trailed off as he looked around him.

Lo'ak was suddenly determined to find out who they had belonged too. "They're for sure not ours."

"What are you doing?" Kiri inquired, confused as to why they were straying away from the direction that would guide them back to base.

"Shh, tracking." He controlled his steps as you all reluctantly followed him.

"This is ridiculous, I am not letting Neteyam take the blame for this one," Y/n stressed. Knowing somehow he'd try to put the baggage of this situation back on him.

Tuk mumbled Neteyam, under her breath, and smiled. Making you ease your worries and grin down at her. You loved the bond they shared.

You cursed to yourself as you crouched down behind some leaves. Staying vigilant, your grip on your bow tightened as you made sure to be hyperaware of any sudden noises surrounding you all.

Nervously you bit down on your bottom lips as you saw figures up ahead. Avatars in military gear? This isn't looking good.

Kiri sensing your worries, placed a hand on your shoulder as she looked at the Avatars as well. "We are never supposed to come here."

"Dad is going to ground you-", She continued whispering quietly

"Shhh, shhh."

"- for life!" You nodded your head in agreement as you flicked Lo'aks ear in annoyance.

"Ow!" He muttered quietly glaring at you, only to cower down at your fierce glare.

"Yo, we gotta go check this out," Lo'ak turned back around and said to Spider, nodding his head over to the infamous old shack. The place where the demon (Spider's dad) and Jake Sully had fought.

Y/n hissed at them, grabbing Lo'ak by his ear (again). He smacked her arm at the action.

"You two dipshits are really pushing it this time!" Y/n fumed, if she wasn't on edge before - she's definitely dangling over it now.

"It's going to be fine, we'll be on our own merry way before you know it! Now please, let go of my ear!" Lo'ak insisted, you rolled your eyes before letting it go.

She knew better than to put a stop to his actions because she simply couldn't. Lo'ak was an unstoppable force once he sets his mind on doing something.

Kiri groaned quietly. "Skxwang."

Your gut had a bad feeling about all this. This needs to be called in. They weren't like your people. Avatars that were carrying a lot of deadly weaponry. The ones that would come from the raids ordered by your Olo'eyktan. These people were dangerous.

Great mother, you gotta get out of here.

Keeping a close eye on Lo'ak and Spider, you whispered to Kiri and Tuk.

"Get ready to head out." They nodded at you, starting to realise the seriousness of this situation.

Lo'ak seemed to have read your mind, as they made their way back to the rest of you guys - he pressed his comms button attached to his upper neck.

He conversed with his father, telling him what he could see about the Avatars. Their location and who he was with.

You listened in with your own comms, one that Jake and Neytiri had graciously gifted to you.

Neteyam growled at the mention of your name and Tuk's.

"Y/n is there?" Neteyam asked through clenched teeth. The grip he had on his Ikran tightened turning his once blue knuckles almost stark white.

"It's going to be fine, yawntu. We're moving out." You tried your best to reassure him.

Neteyam looked at his parents, they could only nod at him to help him regain focus. Neytiri had only seen such worry cross her son's features very few times, she too knew this was a dire situation.

Neteyam closed his eyes for a short moment, processing. "Okay, we're on our way. I'm taking our shortcut."

Lo'ak looked at you in question, but you ignored it. Now is not the time.

"Hurry, let's go!" You ushered them out from the bushes, trying to head as far away from the old shack as you possibly could. You made sure to stay behind all of them, constantly turning your head to look back.

"We're all going to be in so much trouble!" Kiri spoke in a hushed tone.

Lo'ak turned to his sister. "Kiri, stop."

"Guys, come on!" Spider said.

Tuk looked back at you all. "It's almost Eclipse, come on!"

You were about to agree with Tuk before a pair of arms reached out from the hanging branches - grabbing onto her small body.

Her shrill scream immediately shifted you into the headspace you'd enter when on raids. Clasping your bow and arrow you aimed it at the unknown Na'vi. Before you could release the arrow, more of them popped out from the foliage surrounding you all.

Hissing, you put your backs against one another as they closed in on you guys.

"Put it down, put it down!" They ordered.

There was a lot of commotion, and you noted how they were speaking in English and not your native tongue. They definitely aren't from here, even if their bodies say otherwise. A lot of commotion was occurring, but your eyes never strayed from Tuks.

Lo'ak cautioned you all, "Guys. Put it down, put it down." He spoke in your language, you'll tell him how smart he is for doing so later.

You snarled but followed him. You knew there were too many of them, there was no way of getting out of this unless one of you got hurt. Trying to strategize you thought of ways to work yourself all out of this situation. But it was too late, they apprehended all of you.

"Mawey, Mawey." Kiri tried to calm Tuk down through all the yelling and sudden movements.

"Shut up, don't move!"

"What have we here?" One of them said. But he seemed different to the rest, more commandeering, and authoritative. He was the leader for sure.

It seemed Y/n's thoughts not too long ago predicted what was about to happen.

Before you knew it. You knocked your forehead into the Na'vi whose hand lingered too long on your waist and gripped tightly on your braids.

He retaliated by smacking your head with the barrel of his gun. Laughing as you fell to the ground, face being pushed further into the floor by the sole of his boot that he was wearing.

He chuckled, pressing down harder earning a grunt of pain from you. "We got ourselves a feisty one, would you look at that!" His comrades laughed and jeered at his comment.

Your friends though, oh they were livid.

"Y/n!" Tuk wailed for you, as Lo'ak did his best to not cause mayhem.

"Get up." You groaned as he anchored you up by your braids. Y/n looked at her armband through her blurry vision, reminding herself to not cause more of a scene. For she feared what she could lose.

"Mawey, Mawey, I'm alright." You choked out, continuing like Lo'ak to speak Na'vi.

"As I was gonna say before I was so rudely interrupted." The leader once again spoke. He looked at each one of you inquisitively, before one of his people showed him Kiri's hands.

These were the times you were grateful that the Sully children wanted you to learn english alongside them. You caught on to what they were assuming about Kiri. All of you did.

Y/n barred her teeth as the idiotic man once again yanked on Kiri's hair, feeling panicky as their leader approached Lo'ak.

He demanded Lo'ak to show him his fingers, only to get flipped off. You could only watch in pride, he truly was his father's son.

As he continued to nag at Lo'ak you could only ponder what they wanted from all of you, how could they know these were the children of Toruk Makto?

"No!" Y/n protested as he put a knife to Lo'aks neck. But the man holding her captive only strengthened the grip he had on her head of hair. You knew he wouldn't disclose his dads whereabouts, and they didn't need to know either that they were already on their way to help you all out.

When the leader spoke in Na'vi it took everything in your willpower to not mock him for how butchered his pronunciation was. These were definitely people from the sky.

"Get away from her!" Y/n screamed as Spider and Lo'ak joined alongside her telling him to get the hell away from Kiri.

As he spoke to Spider, your eyes met Kiri's. She worriedly glanced at your bleeding head from the gun being slammed into you. But to soothe her you simply mouthed that you were okay.

You were all going to get out of this, alive.

"Miles?"

"Nobody calls me that," Spider said in response.

Your eyes widened in realisation, as did Lo'ak and Kiri's. The man standing before you was Miles Quaritch, Spider's father who was supposed to be deceased.

The sky demon who raged war on your homeland, the one who had killed your father in battle.

You were not about to let him take away any more of your family. Y/n wanted to kill him. How dare he have a second chance at life, in a world like Pandora which he completely takes for granted?

Quaritch stands up, gazing around. "We are standing by for extract, over."

Extract? No, they aren't here yet.

Y/n struggled to fight against the tight hold on her as they started to move away from where they'd been ambushed.

"Let us go!" Kiri begged, pain evident in her voice. You could only shake your head at her, not wanting for her to receive the same brutal treatment you'd just experienced.

"Shut up!" The bald ugly one seethed. Demon trash.

As you were shoved to the ground you could only look up at the clear skies above you. Silently, Y/n prayed to Eywa in hopes they'd be rescued before it was too late.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫˚

Eclipse was nearing, and the gleaming sun was starting to fade away and rest for the night. You only wished you could do the same, but being held as a "viable prisoner" unfortunately hinders that.

But not too far from where you and the rest waited to be saved, there were three people who landed on a tree branch. Hopping off their Ikrans, they sought to do just that. To save the ones they loved most.

"You stay with the Ikrans," Jake ordered his son.

Neteyam could only shut his eyes in annoyance, his stance shifting to convey his determination. There was a fire burning in his eyes, and it wasn't going to cease any time soon.

"Dad, I'm a warrior like you. I'm supposed to fight," He urged. No, he pleaded.

He could not just stand here and tend to the Ikrans. The mere thought of doing so was agonizing enough for him. To wait for you and his siblings to return safely.

The boy could only let his fingertips brush against the choker you had made and gifted him only the night before.

"Neteyam," Neytiri understood her son's worries. But she already had more than enough on her plate.

Jake gave a slight shake of his head, "I won't say it again."

"But dad! She's-", He tried to counteract. Sway his parents somehow, his hands yearned for revenge. The anguish on the tip of his tongue, his bow weighing on his back like a ton of bricks.

"I know, son. And I will get her back too. Just, stay here." Jake sighed, placing his hand on Neteyam's shoulder for a moment.

Before Neteyam could try to rebut, his parents had already begun venturing off methodically.

"Yes sir." He muttered to himself, walking back over to his Ikran and placing a gentle hand on it.

He had to think of his own plan.

Meanwhile, the bioluminescence beginning to flourish right before your eyes made your heart stumble on itself. She didn't know who was going to arrive first anymore. Her saviors, or soon-to-be tormentors.

Your thoughts continued to remain astray as the rain pelted down on your skin. Y/n did not let it show how the water seeping into her open wound located at the side of her head had caused her immense pain. Instead, she clenched her jaw and continued to watch over her family.

Y/n's ears perked at the static coming from a set of comms, something, something. 3 minutes.

She had to resort to something else then, she has to devise her own plan.

Quaritch though, couldn't shake a feeling that something was awry.

"Watch our 6."

You tried to angle your head to try to watch over Spider and Kiri. Only to fall short at the harsh tug of your ear.

"Keep your eyes forward."

You glared into nothingness, Y/n had never felt so utterly disposable.

Neytiri could only watch on as she pressed herself further into the tree. She had a clear sight of all of you. Something untamed bubbled within her having to witness her children in such a vulnerable state.

Then you heard it, Neytiri's call. Sounding again and again. To any person it'd sound like one of the many animals dominating the jungle, but you knew otherwise.

Catching on to this, Lo'ak gave an affirmative nod to all of you.

It's time.

Kiri prayed to Eywa, hoping to assure her mother's safety in whatever was about to ensue. But you knew the cards had been dealt, now it was time for all of you to follow along.

Instantaneously a familiar arrow sunk into the head of the man who had been guarding Kiri and Spider.

"Contact made!"

Frazzled by the gunshots, you heard a faint call of Lo'aks name. Suddenly a green mist evaded your senses.

Y/n knew now was her chance to escape.

She felt it was only right to let karma be her bitch. As soon as the chamber of the gun the man who had been guarding Y/n had emptied. He maneuvered to replace it, but before he could get far enough - you played your card.

Grasping the front of the gun, ignoring the burn from the gunpowder. You slammed it into the perpetrator's chin, making him stumble backward. Closing your fist, you landed a punch to his face for good measure.

"Tuk, race. Y/n, come on!" Lo'ak yelled for you.

As you began to run towards him, a hand wrapped around your ankle making you propel onto the dirt beneath you. Groaning, you tried to crawl away far enough to push yourself up. But something had glinted in your peripheral.

Your knife. It must have dropped from whoever had them after Neytiri shot her first arrow. You'd thank Neteyam later for having polished your knife when he added new decorative beads to it.

Choking for air, your fingertips brushed against it but a sheer force pushed your arms away from it. You snarled in pain, having reached your limit with this pathetic demon.

Channeling everything you'd learned in all your training back with your clan, you ignored the searing ache. The back of your head met his face with a sharp force.

In his moment of weakness, you scrambled for your knife. This time successfully getting it in your grasp.

You crouched in a defensive stance before him, letting out a vicious hiss as you clutched onto your knife.

"You're gonna pay-", He started to say.

You gasped, both your eyes trailing down to the arrow now wedged in his chest. He could only let out a low groan, trying to advance toward you.

Only he went flying back, another arrow hitting him dead in the forehead. But they weren't from Neytiri.

Pivoting you let out something akin to a choked sob or heave, "Neteyam!"

There he stood strong and mighty as ever. Hidden amongst the nature the jungle provides.

He'd never heard you utter his name like that. The eldest son was so used to it leaving your plush lips in either a tone of endearment or humor. Always enraptured in strings of warmth and grace.

But the way you had just spoken his name, rooted him into the ground. Neteyam never heard you so debilitated, so disoriented. It made his skin crawl in agony.

The gunshots sucked him right back in. He lunged towards you, pulling you away from the mayhem.

"Na'vi!" Someone behind you hollered.

"Rot in hell!" Your scream was directed at your tormentor, you hoped he was still alive to hear those words.

Neteyam pushed you behind him, loading his bow. But before he could shoot again you both were tackled down by Jake.

"Go! Go! Go!" He shouted, pushing you two forward as gunshots rang out.

All of you found temporary solace behind a tree trunk, Jake's arm reached out checking over you both. His eyes widened at how beaten down you looked.

"Follow me! Ready? Ready!" Jake instructed you both. This time it wasn't training though, it was life or death.

Jake stepped out, firing a few bullets at the enemies.

"Move!" Jake bellowed.

You jumped into action, pumping your legs as you run. The chilled air wooshed in your ears and nipped at your cheeks. You hauled yourself over the roots of the trees engulfing you. Narrowly, missing the gunshots as you reminded yourself to not look back.

It didn't sit well with Jake how he was the one ahead and you two were behind him. "Come on!" He yelled.

Neteyam grabbed your hips, pushing you over an abnormally larger root than the rest of the others, understanding the pain you must be in right now.

He knew you were more than capable of getting over it. He just wouldn't be able to get over himself if you sustained even more injuries. It also gave him great comfort being able to see you right in front of him.

You don't know how long you ran for, only finally coming to a stop in a small clearing. Falling to your knees, you tried to catch your breath.

Neteyam had so much to say as he looked down at you, but he physically was in too much shock at the moment. So he chose to settle down beside you, bringing you into his arms carefully.

Jake brought you two once again - to a tree. There you leaned against it, waiting in silence for everyone else.

Soon the rustling of leaves grabbed your attention. Jake held a warning hand to you both, signaling you guys to stay put.

Lo'ak and Tuk made their way to you guys. Giving each other tender hugs, you graciously thanked Eywa for keeping them safe.

As Lo'ak leaned his head on your shoulder, he mumbled an apology to you.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you behind. Tuk was terrified, and I had to get her out of there."

You patted his head, allowing him to lean back and look at you.

"You did what was right, Lo'ak. I have no ill feelings toward you. I'm just grateful you're both okay." Y/n reassured him, as she kissed Tuk on the forehead.

Movement suddenly came from behind you, Jake pushed you and his children behind him - again.

Breaking out from the foliage was a worrisome Kiri and Neytiri.

"Mom!" Tuk cried, running to them. You sluggishly followed her.

Neytiri brought you, girls, into a hug as she too thanked Eywa numerous times that you were all here. She'd never had a reminder as harsh as this.

What she could have just lost.

Neteyam gravitated towards you after Jake embraced both him and Lo'ak.

He looked over at you, eyes and hands trailing.

"We need to get you patched up, grandma can help." He whispered to you, hands hovering over your bruised face.

Inwardly, Neteyam was seething. So many rhetorical questions were prodding at his brain. How you were already wounded when he first saw you? What else had they done to you?

Y/n crooned - "No, no. I'm fine, I'm okay."

"You are not!" He grunted.

His eyes looked dazed, far away. Neteyam was still in a state of terror. Not only had his siblings been put in danger, but his partner in crime as well. His person, was right in the thick of it.

He didn't want to linger on what could have happened if he and his parents came any later. He didn't want to fathom the thought of not just Spider being abducted, but all of you as well.

If his arrow had missed, if anything had gone remotely wrong...

As if you could read his mind, somehow capture his thoughts. Your thumb brushed over his cheek. Your other hand moving to cradle the back of his head as your hand sunk into his braids. Treading your fingers through it you leaned your head against his.

"I'm right here, Neteyam. We're all going to be okay."

Neteyam could only nod as he brought you into another longing embrace.

He'd do whatever it takes for you to stay by each other's sides. Whatever it takes, he will always protect you. Even when he is gone from this world, he vowed to himself right then and there - that he'd still look out for you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

Awa'atlu grew on you over time. It took a while, a lot of adjusting, and taking new things in stride. But you made it this far now, and you felt like maybe this place was truly becoming your home.

It truly felt like a juxtaposition, from the forest - now to the water. Somehow it brought you comfort, Eywa constructed such beautiful places. The community around you, while hostile at first - was also beginning to warm up to all of you too.

Alongside your mother, you had followed the Sullys as you seek out a new place that would hopefully grant you Uturu.

It was truly a challenge, having to stay hidden to keep the people back in your clan safe. You knew it was the right call.

But now the tides were pulling themselves in, dread encompassing the place you were still trying to gain more understanding of.

Your luck was running thin. All you wanted to do was help Lo'ak save Payakan. To be there for your people, your new clan.

It seemed the world had other plans though.

Now you were stuck on the demon ship. Handcuffed to the rails alongside Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Tuk. Snarling you checked the restraints out, you realised you'd have to cut into it to be released. Dammit.

"Be brave," Lo'ak tried to remain optimistic.

Y/n could only hope that Neteyam had gotten back to safety far away from all this.

All your ears perked up, hearing the distinct calls of the Metkayina clan. You could see them in the distance flying on their Skimwings towards the ship.

"Na'vi inbound!" Someone yelled.

"Push left, spread out." Another commanded them.

Tuk had faith, they were all going to get out of this alive. "Dad," she called out to him.

"It's Sully."

Quaritch ripped the comms off from Lo'ak as the Metkayina came to a still in the water a few hundred yards away from you all.

"Jake, tell your friends to stand down. If you want your kids back, you'll come out alone." Quatrich asserted, grasping his gun and pressing it to the side of Lo'aks head.

Tsireya and you yelled for him to stop, whilst Tuk began to cry.

"You know better to test my result."

Y/n wished she could listen in, but she looked around for her mother instead. She noted how Neytiri and Melìew were nowhere to be seen. Must be up in the sky, hovering.

Quaritch was running out of patience, he moved the gun to your head instead.

"She took one of ours, maybe it's time to take one of yours. Like I said, do not test me!" You held your breath, trying not to make any sudden sound or movement.

Your blood ran cold, Y/n did not want to die this way. Especially not now, not when she has so much more reasons to live and experiences to fulfill.

Through gritted teeth, Quaritch challenged Jake. "Do I make myself clear?"

He stepped back, the weight of the gun easing off your head. Y/n looked on to where Jake and the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk were having a heated discussion.

It gave you a moment to ponder on Quaritch's words from before. She hadn't killed one of the sky people. But Neteyam did.

In the midst of all the fighting, it must have looked to them like it had been her doing. Whatever, that was the least of her worries at this time being.

Quaritch once again spoke to Jake through the stolen comms. "Offers beginning to expire. What's it gonna be?"

Y/n looked to Lo'ak after hearing him curse quietly, following his eyes you saw his father pushing on - alone.

"Easy shot." One of the fake Na'vi beckoned.

"You hit him now, they attack. Wait until he's on board."

Lo'ak and yourself let out frustrated groans through harshly gritted teeth. You were defenseless.

Abruptly water shot up as a familiar looking Tulkun shot out from beneath the ocean.

"Payakan", Tuk yelled out.

Water rained down on you all as he launched himself on top of the ship. You watched in astonishment as he wreaked havoc.

"Argh!" You grunted, pushing a nearby soldier to Payakan. Lo'ak mimicked your actions as he called out for his brother.

"Yeah!" Lo'ak whooped.

"Holy shit," You gaped as Payakan deflected the harpoon and dove back into the ocean.

The sound of gunshots had your ears ringing as you watched the Metkayina charge at the sky people. Sighing in relief as you saw your mother on her Ikran flying side by side with Neytiri.

Y/n could only observe as the sky people hopped on their own Ikrans and flew upwards. While everyone fought each other you used this to your advantage, trying to break free from your restraints.

Neytiri and your mother flew over the ship, looking down at their children in horror. Both of them shot arrows into the gunships that attempted to fly into the battle.

The ship suddenly jerked, before moving at a far faster pace. Shrieking as you were suddenly suspended in the air, before knocking back down onto the ship.

Water sprayed at all of you on impact. Lo'ak let out a pained groan as he pushed himself up, kicking at the rails.

"Are you okay," he asked all of you. You all nodded, before following his motions and kicking the rail as well.

Alarms sounded all around the ship. You needed to get out of here.

Suddenly, Tuk gasped gleefully. "Neteyam!"

Your head whipped to the side, distracted by pushing at the railing.

He held a knife in his head, grinning - "Hey baby brother, you need some help?"

"You're ridiculous," Y/n mused. Her heart soared at the sight of her boyfriend unharmed.

"Shut up, come on!" Lo'ak replied, looking over his shoulders to see no one was paying attention to them.

He quickly cut Tsireya out of her restraints, and moving onto Tuk he did the same.

Now it was your turn.

He gazes into your eyes, fighting off the instinct to caress your face. Cutting you out of your restraints, he could finally breathe easier. His hands hovered over your wrists seeing the angry red marks that now tainted your deep blue skin.

He looked to Tsireya and you, "Get tuk out of here."

Nodding, you grasped onto Tuk's arm running to the edge of the ship. You turned around as Neteyam stumbled towards you, eyes squinting seeing Lo'ak had rushed the other way.

"Lo'ak!" He called for his brother, making his way back to him as the younger brother grabbed a gun. You watched them bicker back and forth, rolling your eyes at their idiotic antics.

"Tsireya go, we'll meet you there," Y/n said as she took her knife out.

"No, Y/n!" Tuk pouted at you.

Leaning down you kissed her forehead, "I'll be back soon".

Y/n nodded at Tsireya before making her way over to the two Skxwangs.

"Come on bro, we can't leave him!"

You tugged on Neteyam's arm, "What's going on?"

"We've gotta get Spider!" Lo'ak exclaimed.

Y/n tilted her head up to meet Neteyam's eyes. He look troubled, but he knew if he didn't follow - Lo'ak would venture on this mission by himself.

It's just, something felt off.

You knew in those few seconds, Neteyam had the same gut feeling you did. It wasn't that you didn't want to save Spider, but the circumstances of everything were already against you all. Y/n had a terrible feeling about this, and the last time she had this feeling was at the Old Shack.

But you weren't going to leave them behind. Looking around, you also decided to pick up a gun.

Neteyam, realising the intent of your actions fought against them weakly. "No, go with Tuk."

You stared him down. He knew you already made up your mind.

Sighing, he pushed you in front of him. Each of you crept further into the ship, jumping on a nearby wall and climbing to the ceiling.

Y/n tuned out the sounds of the people running beneath her frantically. Choosing to continue to move along.

The three of you made your way onto some sort of connecting platform. Lo'ak put a finger to his lips, before pointing down below. Neteyam and Y/n peered over the edge, seeing Spider being guarded by multiple men.

As they rounded the corner, Neteyam signed "Jump down when I do".

In a matter of seconds he leaped down, you and Lo'ak closely following behind. You pushed one of the men into the nearest wall, immediately slicing his throat.

A hand came at your shoulder and gripped it harshly, but you quickly grabbed it as you turned around. Slamming the man into the ground you leaned down, holding the man's head - you stabbed your knife in his chest.

As you got back up, Neteyam suddenly pushed you out of the way. He grabbed the man who was charging at you and threw him down the ship.

Silence. Your adrenaline had your hands shaking, but before anyone could say a word - one of the men got up grasping his gun.

Lo'ak bet him to it, firing a bunch of rounds and shooting the man down.

Your eyes widened in shock, "Bro come on", Spider called.

Neteyam put his hand in yours, examining his brother.

"Let's go."

Neteyam tugged you along, jumping down as you all tried to figure out a way to get off this ship.

Spider thanked you all, but you saw Quaritchs right-hand man in the near distance.

"No!" Neteyam shouted, aiming the gun Lo'ak was pointing at him down to the ground. Shots were fired at you all as you crouched down rushing away from the henchmen.

"Give me that," Neteyam grabbed his gun whilst you held yours. You both peeked out, as you reached a corner. Firing in the general area the bullets were coming from.

"Go, Go, Go!" You and Neteyam yelled at the two boys.

Y/n checked behind them, witnessing them successfully leaping off the ship.

"Go, Neteyam! I am right behind you." Y/n urged, continuing to shoot at the men.

A deep guttural growl escaped him.

He wanted to complain, but the sound of more gunshots cut him off before he could do so.

He headed in the same direction Lo'ak and Spider had gone. Jumping into the ocean, he waited for you.

You looked to where the men were reloading the guns. It was now or never.

Right before you moved to leap as well, someone suddenly body-slammed you. Screaming at the impact, you desperately tried to reach for the gun that got knocked out of your hands.

A soldier held you down, and the bubble gum she had been chewing - popped. Giving you a deathly glare she dug her fingernails into your skin, drawing blood.

Y/n squirmed as she tried to resist and fight her way out of her deathly grip.

"You killed a good man in the woods. Like Colonel said, you took one of ours." She spat at you.

Any response you could have uttered was cut off by your own knife being plunged into your lower chest.

Y/n wanted to scream, to do anything but succumb to the faith that had just been handed to her. But the pain was excruciating, nothing like she'd ever felt before in her entire life.

"Rot in hell." She sneered at you.

It sounded ironic. The words you had screamed in a moment of triumph, resinated bitterly now.

She rolled you, pushing you over the edge as you plummeted into the water.

Struggling to stay afloat, all you could hear was your friends and lovers muffled cheering. Y/n could only smile to herself, at least they were all okay.

Everything else began to blur from then on, you remember them realising you were wounded. How Neteyam had never looked so disoriented in his life.

Oh, how the situations have flipped.

This wasn't the plan.

How dare he jump for safety and leave you to die? It should have been him.

"N-Neteyam." You choked out, your chest rising up and down rapidly. Y/n was grappling to stay afloat as her own hand tried to cover her stab wound.

Neteyam's heart shattered at the sight of you as he held you above water. "Shhh, save your energy. You're going to be just fine."

He took you away from prying eyes, keeping a lookout as he called for his Ilu. Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Spider were right behind him.

"Bro, we can take her to that rock over there." Lo'ak pointed, not too far but enough distance to separate you all from the sinking ship.

Neteyam nodded, continuing to hold you upright and letting you lean on him.

It felt like a million years, his entire lifetime seeming like it passed before reaching the rock.

With the help of everyone else, they lifted you on it, carrying you and settling you down.

"Watch her head, watch her head," Neteyam repeated. Pushing wet hair strands away from your face that was scrunched up in discomfort

"That could have gone a lot worse, yawntu." You quietly said.

Neteyam's smile was grim, suddenly taken back to your date in the jungle that had been interrupted by that mighty Thanator and his own personal duties back at home.

"Huh, yeah. It really could have. But it didn't" Neteyam stuttered out.

His chuckles that followed his words were forced, vision going murky at the tears that threatened to burst through his facade.

He knew even as Tsireya stuffed the stab wound with moss from the rock it was too late. There was too much blood, so much blood. For the very first and last time, he was too late.

Too late to save you, and now he didn't know what to do.

Your end is near.

Before there was an opportunity to aid you. To get you to safety - to save you from harm's way. But this time there was absolutely nothing he could do. He'd never felt so openly inferior.

All he could do was let Eywa retrieve you peacefully.

Your cries of pain tore into him, tears gushing down your face as he hushed you and tried to wipe them all away.

It devastated him to know there wasn't any way for him to feel your pain. He never wanted this to ever happen to you.

He truly thought that this move away from all the danger and war had bought you both more time.

He was a fool for thinking that life would bestow that upon him.

The sudden wooshing of Ikrans wings mingled in the tense air as Neytiri and Melìew landed on the rock. Jake, hopped off his Skimwing.

"Oh great mother, no! My daughter, my daughter!" Your mother wept as she fell onto her knees by your side.

Neteyam gripped your hand, squeezing it in reassurance.

"Mom, I did it. I'm truly a warrior." You struggled, your breath seeming to escape you quicker than you thought.

"You silly girl. You always have been. You always will be." Your mother soothed you, her hands holding your face and caressing your hair.

You meekly smiled at her, looking at everyone who surrounded you. Neytiri silently cried as Jake held her in his arms. It gave you a sense of comfort, through the pair - you saw yourself and Neteyam.

Y/n glanced at Jake, "Thank you for everything."

Jake could only bend down, pressing a hand to your leg and giving it a squeeze. He had so much to say. How wonderful you are at everything you do. The way you gave every training lesson your all. And the way you treated his son. But he had a feeling you already knew.

Neytiri moved to the free space above your head, gripping onto one of your mum's hands as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

You would always be her honourary daughter, and she knew she was about to lose you. All she could do now was be here and try to give you some comfort.

"Neteyam?"

"Yes, Y/n?" Neteyam peered down at you, and you returned his gaze.

"Are we going back home?" She whispered.

He could see the light he adored so much fading away from Y/n's eyes. The faint wheeze in your breathing, and your skin losing its colour.

"Yeah we are, we're gonna finish that picnic date. You gotta prepare your basket okay? Don't forget the picnic blanket." His tears were free-falling at this point, but he no longer had the willpower to care about saving face.

All he cared about at this moment was you.

Numb to the feelings consuming your body, Y/n's smile widened. “Okay 'Teyam, can we bring our Ikrans?"

Neteyam forced himself to nod, keeping his tone of voice upbeat. "You bet, Y/n. I'll even race you."

You coughed as you giggled. Neteyam's frown deepened, as he cradled your face.

For the very last time, you nuzzled into the warmth his open palm provided. Taking in his faint yet distinct scent of salt and nature.

Peace poured into your heart and soul.

"I'm gonna win. and I'm always going to love you. I love you, and your wonderful family. I love you, I see you." You rambled, truly hoping you conveyed your last words well.

"I will always see you," Neteyam murmured, taking all of you in as well.

And then the light faded.

Tsireya was the first to realise this, she looked down at your blood coating her hands as she started to cry. Lo'ak held onto her, and Neteyam - knowing damn well he was about to need it.

"Y/n? Y/n. Y/n!" Neteyam wailed out a gut-wrenching cry for help.

He couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't come to terms that you were no longer here.

You were with the great mother now.

"No, Y/n. Please! Come back to me!" He leaned his forehead on yours, closing his eyes tight. He prayed that when he'd open them, this would all be a ruthless lie.

That you'd be able to actually go on that other date. Live on to be each other's mates in the eyes of Eywa. To be able to witness and create a family of your own.

You'd be able to grow and flourish. Together.

His hopes and dreams were crushed the moment your last breath escaped you. Anguish and rage now consumed him.

They took you away from him. Robbed him of a life that was supposed to be spent being by your side, your eternal protector.

As his eyes opened, yours stayed the same.

His fingertips flittered over them, before closing your eyes.

Neteyam could no longer bare to look at what he had lost.

His soul, now as empty as your weightless gaze.

The cries of his family and your mother echoed in his ears, yet he maintained a tight hold on your cold hand.

This couldn't have gone any worse.

But it simply had. And now you were gone.

One with the ocean, one with the sea. Neteyam liked to think and believe they had welcomed you in harmony.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

[sgiandubh]

Camping

From the mouth of The Pest Experts of Ayrshire, Scotland:

[Source, ROFLMAO: https://thepestexpertsayrshire.co.uk/how-to-avoid-midges-when-camping-in-scotland/]

Clearly not the best background for a lewd, Harlequinesque intermezzo. Unless you are a parochial fuckwit, who cannot help but see sex all over the place - tells me more unsavory things about you than I would ever need to know.

From this ex-Scout chieftain to you: the best one could achieve, in terms of debauchery, in one of those 2 minute tents people generally use when camping (ignoring the thick midge curtain, if at all possible), is probably some mild petting, circa 1953 style. Got that T-shirt and I have no damn problem admitting this, in this slightly awkward confessional. So, next time you think of lying through your teeth, just in order to remain relevant, I'd suggest you make a better script out of it. Speaking of 'behavior', or whatnot.

Also, always remember (LOOOOOOOOOOL) the hills are alive with the sound of music and probably also with dozens of other summer campers, undeterred by above midges. Unless we see remnants of shared truffle caviar parritch (yup, that exists, believe it or not), Lady & the Tramp style, in some unsufferable aluminum camping crockery (or a classy pair of plastic champagne flutes, ROFLMAO), there is no way to substantiate anything. So, don't go insinuating and spreading questionable, harmful bullshit about S, just because someone finally perhaps stepped in and probably told you to stop whatever it is you think you are doing.

I'd bet the farm it's not that pubescent athlete, either. FFS. Who cares about August Calendar Girl, at all? It's just another poorly cobbled fanfic, for the use of an aging, but obsessed cluster of fans. Who, yes, could all be his mum. Shame on you. All of you.

[valacirya]

Indis appreciation post!

Disclaimer: All the canon info is taken from Morgoth's Ring and Peoples of Middle Earth. Also, this isn't a character analysis/meta. It's just a list of stuff I love (plus some headcanons) about one of my favorite characters in the legendarium.

1. She's athletic and outdoorsy. We're told that Indis is "exceedingly swift of foot" and that "she walked often alone in the fields and friths of the Valar, turning her thought to things that grow untended." When Finwe sees her, she's chilling on a mountainside. I love that she's associated with nature, specifically the wilderness. She parallels Feanor in her exploration of Aman and interest in the imperfect. Also, this is purely self-indulgent but ever since reading HoME for the first time, I've pictured Indis as tall and broad, and muscular beneath a layer of fat.

2. She doesn't let her unrequited love affect her life. "There was ever light and mirth about her." She's not the pining, languishing princess stereotype. She goes on. She doesn't let it make her bitter or depressed, and she is so restrained that only Mandos and possibly Ingwe are aware of her feelings.

3. Part of her attraction to Finwe is intellectual. In HoME we're told that his "mastery of words delighted her." Considering that Indis is also a poet/composer ("wove words into song") and that the Vanyar enjoy linguistics, it makes sense. It's also just really cute.

4. She's politically minded. Her reasoning for pronouncing 's' instead of 'th' is: "I have joined the Noldor, and I will speak as they do." This is the right thing to do to gain the respect of the Noldor and their acceptance of her authority. I also think she makes a statement with Fingolfin and Finarfin's mother-names. Arakano ("high chieftain") and Ingoldo ("the Noldo, eminent among the kindred") are not only powerful, prophetic names, they're also strikingly similar to Ingwe ("chief of chieftains") who is the High King not just of the Vanyar, but all Eldar. What a power move.

5. She's able to balance her own culture with the culture she marries into. Indis integrates into Noldorin society easily while remaining Vanyarin at her core, as is evidenced by Finwe saying that "above all her heart now yearns for the halls of Ingwe and the peace of the Vanyar." Her sons also respect and are proud of their mixed heritage; Finarfin "loved the Vanyar, his mother's people" and is said to be like them (as are Finrod and Galadriel), and Fingolfin's daughter-in-law is Vanyarin (plus the Nolofinweans have a special connection to Manwe).

6. She gets an awesome prophecy about her line. "But I say unto you that the children of Indis shall also be great, and the Tale of Arda more glorious because of their coming. And from them shall spring things so fair that no tears shall dim their beauty; in whose being the Valar, and the Kindreds both of Elves and of Men that are to come shall all have part, and in whose deeds they shall rejoice. So that, long hence when all that here is, and seemeth yet fair and impregnable, shall nonetheless have faded and passed away, the Light of Aman shall not wholly cease among the free peoples of Arda until the end." Fuck yeah.

7. Her name means "valiant woman." This is the only definition given in Morgoth's Ring, I believe. I highly prefer it over the "bride" meaning because it's a badass name and is similar to Artanis ("noble woman") and Astaldo ("the valiant"). A headcanon that I'm particularly attached to is that Indis's mother-name is Indome, meaning "will of Eru."

8. She's popular with most of the Noldor. We're told that "Finwe, King of the Noldor, wedded Indis, sister of Ingwe; and the Vanyar and Noldor for the most part rejoiced." The majority of the Noldor also follow Fingolfin and Finarfin instead of Feanor.

9. She's friends with Nerdanel. HoME states that Nerdanel went to "abide with Indis, whom she had ever esteemed."

10. She gets pissed off at Finwe when he sides with Feanor. So much so that he thinks she won't want to see him if he's re-embodied. I know this is from his perspective but I'm inclined to agree. [However, this is still very presumptive of him, and his comment that "Indis parted from me without death" is super shitty. Eugh.]

11. She's close to her kids. Finarfin takes after her, Fingolfin passes on the name she gave him, Findis lives with her, Lalwen goes by the name she gave her. Finwe also says that "she hath dear children to comfort her."

So there we have it! What little info we get about Indis is pretty awesome. And this is just a list; I could write a whole essay on her fortitude and unconventionality and my numerous headcanons about her.

[midnight-xx]

hello can you do a hiccup x reader one where reader has a whole night fury army with her in httyd 2 or 3 🥰

Ofc I can!! 🫶🫶 I love writing for Hiccup

𝑬𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆

Pairing: Hiccup x Fem!reader

Timeline: HTTYD 3, the fight against Grimmel

Synopsis: You save the day with the help of your personal “army”

TW: Blood + injuries, mentions of weapons

Also (Name) doesn’t show up until a little bit later

—

Hiccup backed up against the wall of the ship, clutching his abdomen. He groaned in pain as he applied pressure to the wound, blood seeping through his armor.

“It seems like you’ve lost, Hiccup. Give the night fury up to me,” Grimmel commanded.

“I’d rather die,” Hiccup spat.

Grimmel hummed dismissively. “Then you will die.” He raised his weapon above his head, and the smaller man turned away and shut his eyes.

The clang of a sword and no impact influenced Hiccup to open his eyes. Snotlout stood in front of him, along with Tuffnut. The pair shoved him away from the barely awake young man.

“Stay with me, man,” Tuffnut rasped.

“Yeah dude, don’t die on us!” Snotlout added as he faced down with Grimmel.

“I’ll be fine, Tuffnut. Go help Snotlout,” Hiccup said. He attempted to stand up, but curled into himself as he coughed uo blood.

“Dude, you’re not okay,” Tuffnut asserted. He called for someone else as he begged Hiccup to open his eyes.

Hiccup’s last coherent thought was I never got to ask her to…

A deafening screech echoed on the water, and Grimmel looked up from his battle with Snotlout, only to shrink back as the late evening sky became dotted with Night Furies. However, the one that stood out was the girl on the Night Fury in front of the army.

(Name) signaled with her hand, bringing it down in a chopping motion. Plasma blasts flew like comets towards the fleet of ships. Panicked screams overlapped one another as fire spread across the ships.

“Hiccup!” (Name) screamed as she clambered off of her dragon and ran towards the aforementioned man.

“Wake up!” She slapped him, and the brunette woke up with a start.

“Agh- huh?” Hiccup groaned, using what little remaining energy he had to rub his cheek.

“You scared me! I thought you died!” (Name) shook the man as he spoke, and he became dizzy from blood loss and the rapid motions.

“S…stop” The brunette coughed.

“Sorry, Hiccup” You apologized.

“Let’s get you home,” The woman hoisted the chieftain into her arms and draped him across her dragon’s back.

ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ

@toydynesianimation13

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

New Home From Across the Sea | How To Train Your Dragon X Male Reader

The description is down below. This is also on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

Description: Fly High Dragon King

More about you: More about you

Prologue: New Home From Across the Sea | (You are here)

Chapter 1: Old Friends from the Starry Sky |TBW

Chapter 2: The Chieftain's Decision | TBW

Chapter 3: My Good Friend and Maybe Yours | TBW

Chapter 4: Understanding This Way of Life | TBW

Chapter 5: Convincing Her of Sky Bound Beauty | TBW

Chapter 6: Lifelong Friends Over War | TBW

Chapter 7: The Queen Faces the King | TBW

Word count: 3,705 words

The world was different for the boy that lived in the icy nest with the Alpha dragon. He was considered royalty among the rest of the winged creatures, and they all loved him dearly. Even outside the nest, dragons would flock all around to help him. He was found on a boat, abandoned by the rest as an infant. The boy was saved by two night furies that had brought him to the dragon nest.

The two didn't stay for long, but would come by to check on him. Y/n had spent two years learning how to act like the dragons. They would all take turns to care for the boy and Y/n would take care of them. Y/n would start helping out with raids as he rode one of the many dragons, usually commanding them what to grab and what to do. Even if he looked two years old, Y/n was a powerful soul.

After returning to the nest after the most recent raid, Y/n called out to the sky in hopes that his night fury friends would hear his call. The gods had answered his prayer as two pitch black dragons flew down and looked down to the h/c haired boy. Y/n's e/c eyes gleamed with excitement as he quickly got onto the e/c eyed night fury. The three of them flew up into the blue sky, Y/n grinning wide. The two dragons opened their mouths to shoot into the air, causing Y/n to giggle and kick his legs.

One of the shots was right in front of Y/n, and he screamed out in excitement as his face was covered in smoke and his hair slicked back. Y/n leaned his body down onto the dragon he was riding as he stroked his head. The other night fury made jealous grumbles as he flew right below the other. Y/n smiled at him and walked off the e/c eyed night fury, slipping down its wing to be caught by the green-eyed night fury. Y/n hugged the dragon, feeling so content at the moment.

“I love you guys so much. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you.”

Y/n then roared out into the sky as it rumbled through the wind. The roar sounded like a dragon, as others roared in response. Many other dragons had flocked around the night furies and Y/n commanded them forward just as a king did to his subjects. They all followed as the green-eyed night fury took the lead, with Y/n still riding him, guiding them to a pool of fish. Y/n pointed down at the pool, causing all the dragons around to dive and catch their food.

“Everyone go eat! And save some for the other's back home!”

All the dragons growled in agreement as they all caught various amounts of fish. Y/n then instructed the night fury to fly down with the other dragons as Y/n collected as much fish as he could. Once the fish in the ocean were gone, Y/n had everyone fly back to the nest to feed the others. On the way Y/n snacked on one of the many raw fish he caught, sharing some pieces between the two night furies. The night furies dropped him off in front of the nest as he walked in with a deadly nadder.

He was so excited to share what he got with his huge dragon family. Y/n walked deeper into the icy nest, and to get all the dragon's attention he did his dragon call. It echoed throughout the whole nest, as all the dragons turned their attention to the small boy. Some dragons flew down to crowd Y/n, curious to what he had brought. Y/n jumped up and down in excitement, even if this was a daily thing.

“Time to eat! I brought everyone food!”

Y/n held up the fish he got and threw all the others to the expecting dragons. They all roared in delight, thanking the small boy for the food as he went to where the baby dragons were flying. He loved watching how carefree they were, even if they could be annoying sometimes. The baby dragons had found Y/n and started to pull him to their small nest. The parent dragon that was taking care of them today tried to pull the babies off of Y/n, but he insisted it was fine.

This was a daily occurrence, and Y/n loved feeling wanted by the babies. They only ever listened to him, as did all dragons, but the babies were a special case because they listen to no one. Y/n sat down in the nest with a baby Hideous Zippleback sitting in his lap. The other babies tried to push and shove the baby dragon, but Y/n held his hand up to stop them. The other babies stopped as the Zippleback cuddled into Y/n's small lap.

“You will all get your turns little ones, just a bit of patience.”

Y/n then started to pet and preen the Zippleback as its two heads caused small sparks of happiness. Y/n loved when the dragons had a small fiery reaction to him just being there. It was much how the night furies were when Y/n rode them in the sky. Y/n giggled as some sparks caught onto his hair, panicking the overseeing dragon. A big dragon paw hit Y/n’s face as the overseeing dragon pat out the small fire that started on Y/n’s h/c hair.

As Y/n helped clean the Zippleback, a baby monstrous nightmare and snuggled up to Y/n’s side. The other baby dragons saw this and all piled Y/n, causing him to fall back to the ground. Y/n was slightly suffocated by all the weight on his chest, making the overseeing dragon panic once more. Y/n was flailing in the pile, trying to breathe while the overseeing dragon pulled the babies off. The babies started to whine as they tried to get back onto Y/n, only to be stopped by the overseeing dragon. 

Y/n couldn’t help but burst out laughing at how needy the baby dragons were. The overseeing dragon bumped into Y/n’s back, making sure he was okay. He slung the dragon’s head over his shoulder and started to stroke its nose in hopes of calming it down. The baby dragons all flew away to go do whatever the gods know what, and Y/n’s waist had been trapped by the overseeing dragon’s tail. 

Y/n leaned into the overseeing dragon as one of its wings were draped over Y/n's lap. Y/n marveled at all the dragons that flew around the nest seeing how happy they looked. He closed his eyes with a soft smile, leaning deeper into the dragon that was cuddling him. The same zippleback Y/n was cleaning had placed itself back onto Y/n’s lap and fell asleep. Many of the other baby dragons had done the same, creating a cuddle pile.

This was the routine Y/n had lived by for ten full years, and he couldn't complain. There was this itch in his brain that he couldn't ignore, however. The other dragons had noticed the way Y/n looked at himself in the reflection in the water, and the majority conclusion to help was to steal books and items from the ships they looted. On usual raids, Y/n would only ever ask the dragons to steal food and help the other dragons that were trapped. On these raids, Y/n never went as the dragons claimed them to be too dangerous for him to join, but it was all because they wanted to bring these books and items back as presents.

Y/n had read through each and every book he had ever received from the dragons. Over the next five years he had memorized each and every page. The information felt so new to him, this was the other half of who he was. A viking brain and a dragon heart, both making him tough through and through. One book scared him though, the dragon killing book.

He knew that vikings had killed dragons, but he never wanted to admit it. He wanted to believe his dragon friends were safe from harm. But out in the open world, Y/n could only do so much. Y/n had wandered out of the nest and onto one of the rock formations connected to it, watching the dragons fly away to do whatever they wanted. Y/n then stumbled as he felt a gronkle nudge him closer to the edge.

Y/n started to panic the closer he got to the edge of the water, not wanting to get wet. Y/n heard the frenzy of dragons flying above him, a boat being pushed closer to Y/n. The boy was left confused as he looked at each and every dragon. A monstrous nightmare had brought Y/n his books and tossed them into the boat, pulling Y/n into it soon after. Y/n stood at the edge of the boat as all the dragons of the nest flew out and stood around the boy. 

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

The dragons all roared out in response, a low flame from their mouths lit up the area. Y/n finally understood what was going on. This was a farewell to Y/n as they all kept roaring. Y/n felt tears drip down his cheek as he was finally able to go out and explore. Y/n started to push the boat as he waved to the dragons. 

He couldn’t help but cry as he was leaving his home, his family. Y/n started to sail slowly away, but his boat started to rock slightly. He looked over the edge of the boat to see scauldrons helping him push his boat along. His tears dripped into the water as one scauldron rose its head out of the water to lick Y/n and gently squirt semi warm water on his face. Y/n giggled as his tears mixed with the salty seawater. 

Y/n had sailed like this for a month, before the scauldrons had to leave to find food elsewhere. Y/n understood and waved them off, as he was now alone. His boat floated in the sea, in no particular direction. All Y/n had were his books, so he decided to reread them over and over. Sometimes he would pass other viking’s ships and hear them singing, intriguing Y/n. 

He picked them up and would hum these sea songs to himself whenever he got bored with the books he read. He sailed for about two months, or what seemed like it because Y/n had no sense of time. It was dark as the moon reflected the moonlight. Y/n was laying on the boat’s floor as he slept soundly. Y/n’s boat suddenly crashed into a nearby rock formation, destroying the front of the boat and making it sink. 

The sound of crashing had alerted the chief of the island Y/n had crashed on. He ran toward the location and saw the boy almost being consumed by water, his books completely drowned and surrounding the boy. The chief dove into the icy water and brought the small boy to the shore. He called a few men to save the books while he pulled the small boy out of the water. Y/n yawned as he stretched his small arms and looked at the man holding him with his e/c eyes. 

The chief looked at the boy with a raised eyebrow, curious as to how such a small child sailed here all by himself. It concerned the muscular man, and the others that had now surrounded the chief. The chief’s wife ran up and saw the boy he was holding, taken aback that such a young boy had crashed into Berk. Y/n looked to the chief and then to the woman that had stood right next to him. He had seemingly no concern for almost drowning. 

“Where am I? And who are you all?”

The chief sighed in relief and put the small boy down on the floor as he stood by himself. The group of people were amazed by the boy surviving in the frigid water after crashing. The chief’s wife knelt down and checked the boy for any wounds, as if she was his own mother. One of the chief’s greatest friends that had a peg leg and a hooked hand joined the group to see the boy. The chief knelt down next to his wife and put his large hand on the boy's small shoulder.

“You are on the island of Berk. And where might you have sailed from?”

Y/n thinks for a moment to try to think of a place to say, but he can’t think of any. Y/n looks up at the chief, messing with the hem of his shirt. The chief had tilted his head in curiosity, trying to make sense of the boy’s actions of trying to self soothe. The chief’s wife kept her hands tenderly on the boy’s cheeks and looked at him with gentle eyes. Y/n felt an odd sense of comfort here.

“I do not know where I came from. I just sailed from the open ocean until I crashed onto this island.”

The group that surrounded the boy started to murmur themselves in whispers they thought Y/n couldn’t hear. Y/n looked around the group with curious, childlike eyes that could melt any soul into a puddle. But those very eyes held that of a dragon's. The chief's wife saw it in the boy, the soul he had and she was enthralled. The chief had a questioning look on his face, trying to find any reason why a young boy like the one in front of him would have sailed all the way out here on his own.

"I see. Well, I am Stoick the Vast. You have landed on Berk."

From that point on Y/n became apart of Stoick’s family. He was treated as just another Berkian by everyone else, even though his view on dragon hunting was different. Time went on, and Y/n became incredibly close with the village’s smith, Gobber. The two were a colorful duo, Y/n indulging in Gobber’s stories and Gobber teaching Y/n about dragon history as well as inventing. 

Stoick found the pair to be quite troublesome, but found it endearing nonetheless. Stoicks’ wife loved Y/n as if he were one of his own. She saw eye to eye with y/n about not wanting to hurt dragons and seeing no reason for it. Y/n was seemingly able to win everyone over.

After three years, people began to notice the lack of Y/n aging physically. Many tried to ask the boy, but he always managed to dodge the question. It always made Y/n really uncomfortable whenever he was asked. He just found his new family, there wasn’t anything that would pull him away from it.

It unsettled the chief, but Y/n never seemed to be affected when eating the raw fish so he tried to keep his worries low. In his mind the child was odd no doubt, but having Y/n with him for so long Stoick got attached. Stoick then decided to make it a rule for the village to never question Y/n’s habits or lack of aging.

Stoick had noticed Y/n’s uncomfortable feelings around the questions pertaining to his lack of physical aging, but there were more things he had noticed about the boy. Whenever Y/n would eat, his teeth would show, and they seemed sharper than normal. Not only that but Y/n only seemed to have a craving for fish, raw.

Over the three years of staying in Berk, Y/n tried his hardest to convince people not to hurt the dragons. It happened so often, the other vikings started to think Y/n was crazy. No one said that to his face though out of fear of Stoick’s wrath. Stoick tried to explain the reason for hunting dragons over and over but Y/n never accepted those reasons.

Things changed however, when the chief had a son. His birth son who was named Hiccup. Y/n was excited because not only was it someone who he could connect with at his age, but another person to his found family. Hiccup also changed Y/n because as soon as he was born, Y/n started to age physically.

The two boys grew up together, Y/n teaching Hiccup about the world and following Stoick everywhere to learn about the history of Berk. Hiccup found a passion with dragons, watching them from afar and seeing his father hunt them. Y/n noticed this affinity and decided to nurture it.

Y/n told Hiccup all that he knew about dragons, even things that other vikings never knew. Many considered the information to be made up or embellished, but it had Hiccup hooked. The two explored and did everything together. Y/n metaphorically attached himself to Hiccup, going everywhere Hiccup went.

As the two aged, both were considered weird and different. Albeit for different reasons, but they were reasons nonetheless. It was another thing the two boys connected over. Being outcasted by the village and having differences that others didn’t agree with.

When Hiccup was busy, Y/n found himself at the forge. Y/n’s other friend was Gobber. He loved helping him with inventions and weapon building. It became a pastime for the two to create new weapons and learn how to improve old ones. Gobber was another best friend to Y/n.

The closer Y/n got with Gobber, the more the urge to tell him about his past grew stronger. Gobber seemed to notice Y/n’s hesitance around him and the little slip ups when Y/n spoke to him. Eventually, Gobber decided to question the boy’s behavior. Both were in the forgery, working on weapons for the village.

“Mind telling me what all this talk of living with dragons means?”

Y/n immediately dropped the weapons he was working on, onto the floor. Fear crept up into his heart and he looked utterly dumbfounded. How did Gobber find out? Well to Y/n’s obliviousness, it was Y/n’s own fault.

Y/n turned around slowly, but kept his head down. Gobber raised an eyebrow at the boy’s behavior, but kept his silence. He wanted to hear the full story, he wanted to know about the boy’s past. It felt only right to Gobber that he knew based off how long Y/n’s been around him. Y/n took a deep breath and decided this was the time.

“It means how it sounds. Before I crashed onto Berk, I lived with dragons. I was raised by them. They taught me how to fish and survive. But then I left and well you know the rest after that…”

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. It was only interrupted when Y/n went back to the weapons he dropped. The clanking of the weapons being placed on the table sounded more deafening as Y/n waited for a response from Gobber. Y/n’s mind raced with all the terrible what if scenarios.

“Well that's certainly on par with my dragon stories, wouldn’t you think?”

“Huh?”

That wasn’t a response Y/n was expecting at all. Sure, Gobber had his own tales of adventuring and such, but comparing it to Y/n’s was something the boy didn’t quite understand. Gobber only laughed at Y/n’s confusion and proceeded to tell him stories of how he lost his leg and hand. This ended up taking half the day and no new weapons were made.

The forgery were full of shared anecdotes and laughs. Y/n felt safer than he did before with Gobber knowing his secret. One thing that still plagued Y/n’s mind though was if Gobber was going to tell Stoick. Gobber noticed Y/n’s shift in mood once more.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo.”

Y/n stiffened once more, caught off guard with how perceptive Gobber was. It honestly astounded Y/n that he was, but he also remembered how close Gobber was to Stoick and all the battles the two fought with each other.

“You’re not going to tell Stoick are you?”

“Tell Stoick what, exactly?”

“My past… What I had shared with you.. Can you please not tell Stoick?”

Gobber had nodded, understanding Y/n’s unease with the chief knowing Y/n’s true past and who he really was. Albeit his past did explain Y/n’s strange behaviors and his defense for dragons, but Berk’s chief is one who is not as open-minded. After that, the two went back to chatting and just sharing stories once more.

Over the years, Y/n grew up in this new world as a viking. Learning and training, but not to hurt dragons. No, but to defend them and his found family from them. Y/n would convince Stoick to have Hiccup help with Gobber in the forge, much to Stoick’s dismay and concern. Hiccup would learn how to invent things with Y/n always by his side.

Y/n’s new home was not ready for Y/n, however. The gods seemingly having different plans for the boy. One faithful night would prove that Y/n’s two worlds of vikings and dragons would converge. Be it for better or for worse.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[devilmen-collector]

Origin of the names of the angels

Since I have done a post on the origin of the names of the seven kingdoms of Hell, may as well do the origin of the names of the angels.

Warning, this post contains religious content. If you are not comfortable, please ignore this.

Now let's go on with our trivia post

Seraphim

Now I just want to make a distinction. The Seraphim irl are called "the Archangels", but that doesn't mean they belong to the rank of archangel, the second-to-lowest rank, it only means they are the leaders and chieftains of all the angels, including other Seraphim.

Also, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael are the only named angels in the Bible.

Michael

"Michael" means "Who is like unto God?" in Hebrew. In the Bible, Michael is described as "the great prince, who standeth for the children of thy people" (Daniel 12:1), the angel who disputed with the devil over the remains of Moses (Epistle of St. Jude verse 9), the leader of the heavenly army fighting against the dragon (Revelation 12:7).

In the Christian tradition, Michael is the leader of God's army fighting against Satan, helper of the faithful Christians at the moment of death, champion of God's people, protector of the Jews under of the Old Testament, and of God's Holy Church. He is also the patron of many chivalric order of knights.

Michael, having led the battle against Lucifer, is the greatest of all angels, no angel could surpass him in honor and glory.

The feast day of St. Michael in Western Christianity is held on September 29, commemorating the dedication of first church built in his honor in Western Europe. In Eastern Christianity, St. Michael and all angels have their commom feast day on the 8th of November.

Gabriel

"Gabriel" means "strength of God". In the Bible, he appears as the messenger of God who delivers messages of utmost importance: he tells the Prophet Daniel two prophecies concerning the successive empires and the time elapsing before the coming of Christ (Daniel chapter 8 & 9), he appears before Zachary and foretells that his son will be the Precursor of the Lord (Luke 1:5-25), and most importantly Gabriel announces to the Virgin Mary the Incarnation of the God the Son and that she is going to become the Mother of God (Luke 1:26-38). According to tradition, Gabriel was also the angel who appeared in St. Joseph's dream (Matthew 1:18-25; 2: 13-23), and also the angel who consoled Jesus (Luke 22:43). Thus, Gabriel is the Archangel of Incarnation and Consolation.

Some traditions have Gabriel as the angel of mercy while Michael is the angel of justice. Some others have it vice versa.

St. Gabriel's feast day, according to an old tradition, is on the 24th of March, the day before the feast of Annunciation.

Raphael

"Raphael" means "God has healed". The third Archangel appears only in the book of Tobit, in which he helps the young Tobias during his journey, ultimately aiding the young man heal his father's blindness and helping him find a good spouse. Therefore, Raphael is invoked as the angel of Healing and the Patron of finding a good partner for marriage.

Raphael was also the angel who revealed that there are seven Archangels. "For I am the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before the Lord" (Tobit 12:15).

The feast day of St. Raphael, in old tradition, is on the 24th of October.

Cherubim

Selaphiel, Jegudiel and Barachiel

Selaphiel, Jegudiel and Barachiel aren't found in Sacred Scripture, but only in the tradition of Eastern Orthodox Church.

For these three angels, I have already made a post about it. I'll link it here for you guys.

Selaphiel, Jegudiel and Barachiel: Origin of the names

Zadkiel

Zadkiel does not appear in the Bible, although some identify him as the unnamed Angel of the Lord who prevents Abraham from sacrificing his son during the time that God tested Abraham (Genesis 22:1-18). It's the reason why if a church (usually an Anglican church) does depict Zadkiel in its iconography, he's depicted as holding a dagger, for Abraham intended to use a dagger to sacrifice his son.

We will skip over Thrones (or Ophanim), Dominions, Virtues and Powers because there is currently no angel of those choirs in-game yet.

Principalities

Michelleel

"Michelleel" is a name that PrettyBusy completely made up themselves. No angel is known with the name Micheleel. Micheleel is the combination of Michael written in another way "Michelle" and the suffix "el", which means "God".

Archangels

Rashiel, Armisael and Zeruel

Just like with Michelleel, these three Archangels have made up names by PrettyBusy.

Angels

Samael

"Samael" means "Venom/Poison of God". He exists only in Judaism's Talmudic lore. Sometimes he is considered a fallen angel, with some people think he's Satan, while other times he is considered the angel with destructive duties.

[eggobuggo]

A piece for all of March.

All days and what parts of the picture they are under the cut.

White numbers will indicate each day. If it is hard to find a day list is below.

1. Rivulet is within Moon’s chest around her rarefaction cell.

2. Moon’s body is also submerged.

3. Chimney canopy is to the left of Pebbles.

4. Within the tower to the right of Moon, Saint wields a fire spear.

5. On Pebbles’ lower leg Gourmand holds a fire egg.

6. In the left corner Monk sits with a lizard.

7. Gourmand is crafting on Pebbles’ leg.

8. Saint is within the tower right of Moon.

9. The red pipe down in the left corner.

10. Worm grass Down by the first tram cart on the bottom layer.

11. A scavenger holds a lantern under Pebbles’ lifted leg.

12. There are many glow weed bulbs littered around Moon’s body.

13. Pebbles is slightly left from the middle of the work. His entire body is counted.

14. A leviathan is swimming slightly to the left of Moon.

15. There is a small collection of spiders on Pebbles’ right arm.

16. The symbol for the monk is painted to the far left of the piece. Monk is not far from it.

17. Utop Pebbles’ right antenna Artificer faces off with scavenger chieftain with bombs.

18. Below Moon in a pipe a monster kelp fights spears.

19. In chimney canopy and the line closet to Pebbles, Hunter is befriending squidcadas with the saint symbol behind them.

20. Down below Pebbles just before the tram way two scavengers walk. One holds a beehive.

21. Chieftain scavenger fights artificer with only spears. Survivor on Moon’s knee also wields a spear.

22. Hanging from Pebbles’ lifted knee, lantern mice scamper and stare.

23. There is a pearl in the shoreline tower, right at the top. Survivor also holds a pearl.

24. A grand long legs climbs out of the garbage wastes tucked close to the right of Pebbles.

25. There is a 3rd karma symbol with the pair of scavengers, their communication can also be seen as the 3rd karma.

26. in the Pipes beneath Moon. Spearmaster is creating spears as they fight the monster kelp.

27. Up in chimney canopy under the king vulture, Nightcat or the watcher is backflipping to stab a blue lizard.

28. The entire image is technically an anniversary picture.

29. Nightcat or the Watcher is up in chimney canopy fighting a blue lizard.

30. There are three overseers spread out in the picture one observing monk, this is Moon’s overseer. One observing Hunter in chimney canopy, this is NSH’s overseer. One is on the shoreline tower looking towards Moon, this is Pebbles’ overseer.

31. On Pebbles’ waist to the right, rot surrounds a chamber indicating unfortunate development.

[uscarssince1935]

1949 Pontiac Chieftain 2-door Sedan

My tumblr-blogs:

www.tumblr.com/germancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/frenchcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/englishcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/italiancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/japanesecarssince1947 & www.tumblr.com/uscarssince1935