#b99: various

[thegunlady]

me: has a huge list of shows and movies and videos I actively want to watch!

also me: defaults to a show I've seen 12 times

[mookupodi]

i do Not know how to explain this but with every new doctor, I am more and more convinced that if you took all the doctors and put them in a show together, it would make for a great sitcom.

[neptunepenguin]

I think Game Night in Season 5 is one of the best episodes in the entire series.

Rosa finally comes out to her close friends in the 99

The episode shows a turning point in Diaz and Peralta's friendship - they can lean on each other for support

Peralta supports Rosa during dinner with her parents and continues to stand with her even though dinner is a disaster

Rosa expresses to her parents that her being bi is not simply "a phase"

Even though Rosa's parents can't accept her right away, the 99 readily support her and make up for family game night - they are a true family

B99 Family Game Nights will happen weekly!

Everyone brings something different that showcases their personality:

Jake organizes the gathering/Amy brings wine

Boyle brings various games INCLUDING TWISTER!!

Terry brings lots of pizza

Scully and Hitchcock bring snacks!!!

Gina is sassy as always and says she and Diaz could make a fantastic couple

Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place - Holt

[qcswrites]

Sowing the Seeds of Love - Part II: Full Bloom

Read Part I - Budding Love HERE :)

Synopsis: Burdened by his duties from a young age, Neteyam had little time to partake in the joys of youthful romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females. His longing for a more passionate affair had begun with a burning desire to have you. But you never saw him.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya Reader

Content: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Angst, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 10k

Author's note: Hello, friends! I'm back! This took longer than planned but it's a little longer than the first chapter so I hope that helps :) It's Neteyam's POV before/during/after the events of Part I. P.S. there's a tiny B99 reference somewhere in here. If you happen to catch it, we could be friends haha hope you enjoy!

I hope I haven't missed anyone but thank you all for enjoying my work :) @vivid-ink @ntymavtr @swaggygurlbae @vintaqestar @mahalkomarvel @riatesullironalite @luvteyams @investedreader

Also on AO3: Full Bloom

Your hair was arranged prettily atop your head, flowers tucked carefully into it, peeking out from behind the pointed tips of your ears. You were stunning. For many months now, Neteyam had burned for you, with the closeness of your families morphing into a slow form of torture. Night after night, he had sat across from you, forced to sate his desires with only the proximity of your delectable scent. 

“Neteyam.” Your voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Some more stew?” You offered, blinking up at him innocently, holding a bowl of yerik stew. 

“Ah.” He accepted the bowl easily, shivering ever so slightly when his fingertips grazed yours during the exchange. He rarely spoke to you, though it was not for lack of interest. Clearly. In truth, he found himself severely lacking in nerve when it came to approaching you outside of the meals you shared with his family. Some mighty warrior he was. 

He had grown up alongside you, a natural consequence of your parents’ long-standing friendship. Yet, he had never quite managed the closeness that you shared with his brother. Much of his youth had been spent training and learning the ways of the future leadership of the clan, and he had always eschewed notions of romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females. 

Though your paths rarely crossed in the daytimes, he had harboured a quiet affection for you. Fondness would come to him, unbidden, as he watched you patiently care for Txep and treat the injured when he visited his grandmother in the healer’s alcove. 

Only in the last while, his fondness had morphed into something more. It had become an ache that left his heart racing in the daytimes and skin slick with perspiration in the nights as titillating images of you flashed through his mind more frequently than he’d care to admit. 

But you never saw him. Neteyam had wondered many times in the moons past whether you could feel his burning gaze on you, eventually coming to the bitter conclusion that his newfound desires went completely unnoticed. It seemed inconceivable for his world to have shifted on its axis the way it had and for yours to have remained the same. But that was the reality….

Neteyam let himself indulge in a moment of weakness then, allowing himself the pleasure of thinking that it had been his face you had imagined as you adorned your hair with pretty flowers earlier that evening. But it was a lie. Those flowers were not for him, but for the man seated next to you. 

Irritation flared in his gut as he caught your gaze lingering on his brother as he laughed jovially at some joke that he had himself had missed, too caught up in lamenting the tragic state of affairs he found himself in. More maddening was the fact that Lo’ak, the skxawng, was utterly oblivious to your affections. 

“Bro? You there? Hello?” Neteyam started as a hand waved in his face. 

“What?”

“Dad was asking about tomorrow,” Lo’ak continued, slightly amused at his bleariness. “You know? The mission?”

“Ah,” Neteyam said, reverting to warrior-mode, momentarily forgetting his disgruntlement. “The scout party has reported some unusual activity on the edge of the settlement.”

“Could it be hostiles? His father enquired, concern colouring his expression. Though it had been years since the tawtute had been banished from their lands, deep-seated misgivings between the clans had persisted, manifesting in occasional skirmishes along territorial boundaries. 

“The scout party believes so,” he answered in the affirmative, expression turning grave at the thought of what the next day would bring. Hostiles were often outcasts with limited supplies and capacity to inflict harm on their people. But, he knew better than to underestimate the tenacity of men with little left to lose. 

“What’s the plan?”

“The scout party believes that they have set up camp near the waterfall. We will surround the area after dawn tomorrow and secure it.” Neteyam continued, quietly relieved for the distraction from his own inner turmoil. 

“They’ll put up a fight, no doubt,” added Lo’ak, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

Neteyam shook his head at his brother’s cavalier attitude. Lo’ak had a proclivity for missions such as this, which were fraught with danger, finding a thrill amidst the peril. “It’s not a laughing matter, bro,” he rebuked, expression darkening at the memory. “Aran nearly lost his arm from the infection.”

Lo’ak only waved him off. “Nothing will happen,” he remarked, eyes flicking over to you as he spoke his next words. “And if it did, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?”

Neteyam turned to face you, watching as a faint blush coloured your cheeks at his words. “Of course.”

A heat brewed low in his belly at the sight, followed immediately by a wave of guilt at his own misplaced anger. He knew he was being unfair, in that you knew nothing of his feelings for you, let alone returned them.

He loved his brother more than life itself but in truth, he could not help but wonder why you pined after him so. Lo’ak was handsome, well-liked by the women of the clan and had his fair share of casual dalliances. You stood by and watched it all while still never wavering in your feelings for the man. If he did not feel so conflicted about the object of your affections, he would have admired your loyalty. 

Your soft giggles drew his gaze back to you, where Lo’ak had since joined you, poking your side teasingly as an inside joke, no doubt, slipped past his lips. His envy reared its ugly head once more, and he found the heat in his belly returning at the cosy sight of the two of you. 

Great Mother, he needed to get away. 

* * *

Neteyam grunted softly as she moved rhythmically above him, fingernails digging into the skin of his chest. His hands trailed her lithe form, coming to land on her hips, guiding her movements. Closing his eyes, he relished in the pleasure he gleaned from the friction between their bodies. 

He had been seeing Nimira quietly for months now. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a quick release in the woods after evening patrol. But somehow, all these months later, he found himself pinned underneath the familiar weight of her as she rocked desperately against him, desperate for release. 

She was close, he could tell from her increasingly frenzied movements. He met her movements, frustration growing as his own peak eluded him. Something was wrong. In a swift movement, he had her on her back, hand cupping the back of her head gently. 

She gasped, startled at the sudden movement. “Neteyam, what—”

“Let me take care of it,” he murmured, thrusting more insistently against her. Her complaint faded into a series of breathy moans and sighs. 

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his own mounting ecstasy, breath hitching and movements growing more frantic as he reached his peak. He reached down, rubbing Nimira furiously where they were joined, willing himself not to spill before she reached her peak. 

In the aftermath of his pleasure, he turned over to glance at Nimira, who lay panting heavily on her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nim,” he said, slightly shamefaced. “If I was too rough.”

She laughed softly, turning her body to face him. “You don’t have to apologise,” she said slowly, reaching out to run her hand gently down his arm. “It was good. Really good.”

Relief flooded him and he smiled reassuringly at her. Nimira knew of Leyna. His feelings for you were not a secret but he wondered sometimes if she would be quite so nonchalant if she knew the depth of what he felt for you. He suspected that she would not take too kindly to the sensual fantasies of you that entered his mind, unbidden, during their dalliances. 

“You’re frustrated, today, Neteyam,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable post-coital silence that had fallen between them. 

Caught. He froze, mind searching frantically for an innocent explanation.

“Is it the mission tomorrow?”

Relief enveloped him at her words. That was right, Nimira was also a warrior and had been assigned to join the team investigating the suspected hostile activity at the edge of the Omatikaya territory. 

He nodded at her in the affirmative, hoping that had looked convincing enough. 

Nimira sighed in understanding, moving closer to him. “Me too.”

“Everything will be okay,” he murmured, returning her gesture, rubbing her arm gently as he spoke. 

“Aran is coming tomorrow,” she said softly, after a long pause. That was right. Aran. As fate would have it, Nimira had been nursing feelings of her own for the young warrior for many moons now, and they had bonded over their shared romantic woes. 

“I know,” he comforted, sensing her anxiety. Aran had been shot in the shoulder during their last mission. While they had been relieved to hear that the arrow had failed to pierce his vital organs, their relief had been short-lived as a worrying fever had come over him, unrelenting even in the face of the array of healing brews fed to him in the weeks that followed. 

“It’s too soon,” Nimira muttered, shifting closer to embrace the sturdy weight of his arm. “He’s not ready.”

“He’s a strong warrior. He wouldn’t have joined the mission if he didn’t think he could do it, Nim,” he countered gently. “He’s spent weeks now laying in the healer’s alcove, being tended to by my grandmother. She thinks he’s ready too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I trust the tsahìk, it’s just, I—”

“Can’t help but worry?” He finished. “I know the feeling.”

Nimira smiled at his words. “Speaking of whom, how’s Leyna doing?”

A scowl came over his face, earning a soft chuckle from her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she teased. “You’re here with me now, so I know the answer to that question.”

“Nim!”

“What?” 

“You know what.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said finally, patting his cheek gently. “That was unkind.”

He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. Everything is still shit.”

“You could just talk to her, you know?” Nimira nudged his side, prompting him to face her. “You can’t be pissed at her when she doesn’t even know how you feel.”

He smiled ruefully, leaning forward until the tips of their noses brushed against each other. “You always give the best advice, Nim.”

She smiled, pulling him atop her again. “I know. Now shut up and kiss me.” 

* * *

Neteyam let out a strangled hiss at the stinging sensation when Olin, one of the apprentices, applied a cleansing salve to the wound on his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” muttered an apologetic Olin, turning to reach for a bottle of pxir (beer). “Have some of this, it will ease the pain.”

“There really is no need for all this,” he groused, accepting the bottle. “It’s barely a graze!”

Olin tutted. “Brother, you know as well as I do that even the smallest break in the skin can result in infection. What if the arrowhead had been laced with txum (poison)?” 

The mission had been a success, save for a brief scuffle with the hostiles that had led to his injury. Neteyam longed to leave the healer’s alcove, where he had been barricaded in for the last hour, being fed various healing brews and antidotes for any dangerous contaminants on the hostiles’ weapons. 

But that was not the reason for his sour mood. Neteyam let his gaze turn sideways, landing on his brother who lay in the next bed, being tended to by none other than you. 

He watched with growing ire as your delicate hands rested on his abdomen, absentmindedly stroking the skin there as you waited for him to finish drinking the healing brew. That’s not even close to where he is injured, he hissed internally. 

“Bro, you alright?” Lo’ak looked concerned, eyes raking over his flushed face. Turning to you, he said, “Is it a delayed reaction or something?”

“I’m fine.” Neteyam said, waving off his brother. “Just tired.”

“Leyna, look him over would you?” Lo’ak chuckled softly. “He’s a stubborn one.”

“There’s no need—” His breath caught in his throat as your hands brushed against his forehead. Great Mother, he felt like a fool. 

Neteyam willed his body not to react as you poked and prodded at him. “Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” 

You gazed at him curiously. “So I can check for sores?”

“Ah.” Neteyam opened his mouth obediently, eyes widening as your fingers prodded the side of his cheek gently as you checked for any signs that he had been poisoned. He had had this dream before. Similar concept, slightly different execution.

“Is something wrong?” His voice came out garbled, your fingers having not ceased their intrusion. “Have I really been poisoned?”

You shook your head slowly, removing your fingers as you spoke. “I can’t see any sores and you have not sparked a fever yet.”

“I’m to live then?”

You smiled softly. “That’s right.”

The memory of your touch lingered in his mind in the hours after. His family paid little notice to his silence at last meal, accustomed to his typically taciturn demeanour. He willed himself to give into the mundanity of the next day’s tasks, to think of anything but the soft smile you gifted him before he left the healer’s alcove that evening, the feel of your delicate hands on his face, in his mouth, which only served to inspire more sensual fantasies of you on your knees before him, bobbing back and forth on his co—there he was, doing it again.

If he had hoped that sleep would subdue his racing mind, he was sorely mistaken. An hour of tossing and turning in his hammock had done little to alleviate his, ah, predicament. He was not unfamiliar with the intricacies of sexual attraction, having partaken in casual encounters of his own. However, none of his previous experiences had bred the kind of all-consuming fixation afflicting him in the present. 

Growling in frustration as sleep continued to evade him, he climbed carefully out of his hammock, padding quietly across the boughs of kelutral, descending down the spiral staircase at its centre. Landing on the forest floor with a soft thump, Neteyam scanned his surroundings, relieved to find it quiet, which was unsurprising given the late hour. He glanced down warily at his rapidly intensifying problem, deciding to move quickly through the village before he was faced with another clan member. How mortifying it would be to be found in the state he was in…the olo’eyktan’s firstborn son and second-in-command nursing a rather exuberant erection….

Seeking out a tree hollow outside the gates leading to kelutral, he sighed in relief. He had found this place many months prior after evening patrol, returning it regularly when he wished to be undisturbed. As second-in-command, he spent a considerable amount of time training with the war party and leading the hunting party. As such, most of his days were spent in stifling proximity to others. It was not that he disliked his role—he took great pride in following in his father’s footsteps—but he had admittedly always preferred solitude, having been more reserved than his siblings even as children.

Sheltered away from prying eyes now, he undid the ties of loincloth, swiftly discarding the material off to the side as he reached for the length between his legs, which had stiffened to the point of causing him pain on the walk over. 

Breathing heavily, he squeezed and stroked his cock rhythmically, eyes shut tight as the pleasure coursed through him in waves. Titillating fantasies of you doing things with him, to him, flooded his mind. 

You, on your hands and knees, mouth full of him, eyes meeting his coyly as you bobbed your head back and forth. The soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

“Argh, fuck,” he cried, bracing himself against the trunk of the tree, gasping for air as he reached his peak. Slightly shamefaced, he turned to retrieve his loincloth from where he had tossed it and refastened the ties. 

Great Mother, he needed to get a grip. 

* * *

You were avoiding him. He was quite certain of it now, watching as you hurried past him as he headed to the back of the alcove to wash his food mat after last meal. You did not meet his eyes but he glimpsed your stricken expression at his proximity. 

Frustration stewed in his gut at the present state of affairs. It had been almost a week since your conversation in his family’s alcove and you had only returned since with your family for their weekly shared meals. Hell, he was quite certain that you had been avoiding his brother as well. It was unbearable, more so than when you did not take notice of him at all. 

He had replayed that conversation in his mind a thousand times over in the days since, cringing at the indelicacy of his words and your panicked hiss at his confrontation. He had ruined everything before it even began. 

Sense would dictate that he give you space to come to terms with his words and leave you be. But, the pit in his stomach had grown unbearable and he longed to clear the air between the two of you. 

And that was how he found himself trudging through the thick vegetation that encircled the clearing where clan members called their ikran. He had recognised Txep’s excited squeal in the distance and knew, with certainty, that you were close. 

Emerging soundlessly from behind the bush, he called out, “Going out flying?”

He caught the surprise on your face as your head whipped around at the sound of his voice. “Yes, we are. What’s it to you?”

He smiled slightly at your words in spite of their hostility. Great Mother, if you knew the things that voice did to him. “Mind if I join?”

Before you could reply, Txep squealed upon catching sight of him, turning away from Pänu and barrelling into his arms. Txep was the sweetest little one he had ever seen, and Neteyam had always had a soft spot for the boy. Txep wanted to be a warrior and always trailed after him during his morning duties. His mother had apologised profusely for the boy who was particularly adept at evading his parents to find the warrior party during their morning trainings. Neteyam had waved off the apology, happy to indulge in keeping Txep entertained. In truth, he missed when Tuk was smaller and would do the same.

He saw the conflict swirling in your eyes at his question and knew he was playing dirty as turned to the boy in his arms before adding, “Txep, can I come flying with you and Leyna?”

You had a soft spot for Txep, and he knew that there was little you could refuse him. It was one of the things he loved (loved?) most about you.  

With a sigh, you nodded affirmatively. He silently cheered, disentangling himself from Txep to call his own ikran. 

Waiting patiently until Txep was seated on your ikran, he called you softly, willing himself to gather the nerve to say the right thing this time. 

Breathing heavily, he said finally, “I’m sorry, for the other day. I shouldn’t have said it.”

To his relief, your expression softened at his words. “It’s okay,” you began slowly. “You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, it’s not stupid. He is.” 

That prompted a laugh out of you, thrilling him in the process. “I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t even realise you noticed my presence. This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, you know?” 

Naturally, Nim was right. “I pay you plenty of attention.” He countered cheekily. “Maybe you are the one who doesn’t notice.”

Not waiting for a response, Neteyam pulled down his ionar in a swift motion and leapt up on Tìxtur’s back, commanding him to take flight, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at your surprised exclamation. 

Turning away from you, he urged Tìxtur forward, deliberately urging him to fly faster. There was a place he wanted to show you; somewhere he had never shown anyone else. 

Neteyam only smiled softly at the shrill sound of Txep’s excited squeals as you urged your ikran to match his speed, pretending to not hear your questions as to where he was taking you. 

The landscape shifted beneath him, trees growing more sparse as they flew. Finally, he glimpsed the familiar sight of the valley in the distance, urging his ikran to slowly descend down onto the plain. 

He watched with anticipation as you landed by his side, initially too preoccupied with Txep and utterly oblivious to the marvel of your new surroundings.

Finally, you glanced up, gasping as you took in the sight of the valley, vast mountaintops on either side cradling the ground on which you stood. Neteyam watched you quietly, affection blooming in his chest at your awe. You were so beautiful. It was a thought that had come to him now a hundred different times in a hundred different ways. 

“It’s beautiful here, Neteyam,” you praised, meeting his gaze. He only smiled in return, overcome by a dizzy sort of elation. 

Txep was instantly transfixed by the river water, with its vivid shade of lilac, running to dip his feet in the water. 

Coming to stand behind you, he whispered, “He’s the sweetest little one I’ve ever seen.”

“You should see him when sa’nok prepares teylu, pounces like a palulukan, that one.”

Neteyam laughed softly. “I don’t doubt it. Tuk was much the same when she was younger.”

Wanting to speak more privately, he led you further along the riverbank, out of earshot of Txep. 

“How did you find this place?” You asked, after a brief silence. 

He shook his shoulders nonchalantly, explaining his evening exploits after the completion of the day’s duties. 

“So, this is where you disappear off to in the evenings, then?” 

Your words caught him by surprise. You had noticed. 

“I pay attention,” you added, trying and failing at nonchalance. 

He smiled. “So you do.” 

* * *

Neteyam watched quietly from the side as members of both clans drank and caroused in the centre of the shelter below kelutral, grooving to the tune of a rhythmic drumbeat in the background. 

Members of the Tipani clan’s leadership had come for a weeklong visit, culminating in the present celebration. Neteyam had spent the past week at his father’s side, tending to their visitors and partaking in negotiations concerning the exchange of goods between the clans and other diplomatic matters.

However, it was not his fatigue from the week’s duties that kept him from joining in the dancing and merriment. His piercing gaze found its way back to a particular dancing pair, eyes narrowing further as the Tipani clan’s second-in-command, Nareyo, reached for your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dancing form.

His fingers twitched where they held the cup of kava that he had been nursing, the increasing strength of his grip threatening to shatter it and spill its contents across his lap. 

“At least give me that, if you’re not going to drink it,” a voice from his side said. 

Turning at the sound, his gaze shifted to land on Nimira who was watching him, eyes twinkling with amusement at his sour expression. 

“Don’t” he warned, tipping the cup back, swallowing the contents in one gulp. 

“You’re being a child,” she chided, nudging his side. “Ask her for a dance.”

“Wouldn't want to take her away from Nareyo,” he said, scowling. Nareyo was slightly shorter in stature, but a striking male nonetheless. Having spent much of the last week in his company, Neteyam would grudgingly admit that the man made for good company.

“Au! They’re only dancing, not mated. You can ask her for a dance.”

“Who says she wants to dance with me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and you’ve been spending so much time together.”

“That’s not true, we—”

“You hardly ever ask me to meet you anymore,” Nimira continued. “I’m much less satisfied nowadays. I should know.”

“I’m sorry, Nim, I—”

“Oh would you hush! That wasn’t the point!” She hissed, pressing her hand over his mouth to silence him. “I’ve seen the two of you. She looks at you that way.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She does.” Nimira, casting a furtive glance at you as the song came to an end. “Ask her now. Go, Neteyam.”

Nimira shoved his shoulder insistently, prodding him to stand before snatching the cup from his hands. “Go,” she mouthed, nodding at you. 

Neteyam sighed. “You’re full of shit,” he mouthed back, not letting himself indulge in the possibility that you returned his feelings. Still, he made his way across the floor, approaching you just as Nareyo thanked you for dancing with him with a kiss on the back of your hand. 

You smiled at the sight of him, hand slipping from Nareyo’s grasp as you turned abruptly from the other man to face him fully. Resisting the urge to preen at the action, he returned your smile. 

“Leyna,” he greeted warmly, pressing a kiss of his own to your hand. 

“Neteyam,” you breathed, eyes softening. “I didn’t see you earlier.”

“I, uh.” He hesitated, suddenly embarrassed by his earlier behaviour. “I was busy with something.” He paused to breathe deeply before holding out his hand in invitation. “A dance?”

You smiled brightly at him, slipping your palm into his grasp. “I’d love to.”

He pulled you closer as the music resumed, a slower, more relaxed melody this time. Gently swaying, he pulled you closer, unable to resist the prospect of being in such close proximity with you. Inhaling deeply, he appreciated the familiar sweetness of your scent. 

His heart raced as you leaned into his embrace, settling your head gently against his chest as you moved together to the music. Take that, Nareyo.

“You must be exhausted,” you said, voice muffled slightly where your face rested against the skin of his chest. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Duty calls,” he said, shrugging his shoulders only slightly so as to not jostle you. 

“Me too,” you sighed. “I’m grateful for their tsahìk’s teachings but she is a, ah, passionate woman. Like her son, actually.”

“Nareyo, huh.” He mused, feigning nonchalance.

You pulled back from him then, visibly grimacing at the mention of the Tipani clan’s successor. “He’s, uh, nice?” 

“He’s a strong warrior,” Neteyam offered. Why was he defending him?

“He is,” you allowed, before adding softly, “A little forward is all.”

“Forward?” 

“Would you call offering to make me his tsakarem forward?

His jaw clenched at your words. He had proposed marriage?  

“Naturally, I accepted,” you continued, laughing softly as he blanched. 

“Great Mother, woman,” he breathed, catching on to your teasing tone. “You scared me.”

You clicked your tongue. “Should I be hurt that you sound surprised? I was the last one in our class to complete iknimaya, you know?”

“Really?” 

You hummed. “I was scared I’d pick the wrong one.”

“That’s not possible,” Neteyam argued. “The Great Mother guides you to your match.”

“Point being,” you continued. “I take too long to decide things. Ergo, no whirlwind romances.”

Duly chastised, he nodded. “Point taken.”

“Don’t tell my mother, though,” you added after a long, contemplative pause. “She misses home dearly and she would have leapt at the chance to return to take care of her grandbabies.”

Neteyam laughed. “My lips are sealed.”

Sighing softly, you resumed your spot against his chest, leaning your full weight against his body, letting him guide you through the familiar steps. Neteyam relished in the feeling of your soft curves nestled safely against him, wondering belatedly if you could sense the rapid thrum of his heart.

“Shit.” You tugged at his hand then, pulling him abruptly away from the centre of the dancefloor. 

Startled, he spluttered, “Leyna, what are y—” 

“Nareyo’s coming this way again,” you hissed, hurrying through the crowd of onlookers. “He’s going to ask me again if I’ve ‘reconsidered coming home’. Ack!”

* * *

Panting heavily, Neteyam landed with a soft thump on the mossy ground. This morning’s training had been spent practising hand-to-hand combat, a programme that had been designed by his father, a relic of his tawtute origins. 

Though, if Neteyam was being honest, he was not feeling much gratitude for his father in that moment. After a gruelling morning of sparring with the other warriors, he was well and truly spent. 

Gentle hands touched his forehead, rubbing the skin comfortingly. Leyna. 

“Have some water,” you coaxed, bringing the paywll (water plant) leaf to his lips.

Eyes meeting yours in gratitude, he began to sip from the leaf as your hands rubbed his back soothingly. In truth, he much preferred archery and rarely partook in such trainings with so much vigour. But, you had come to watch the warriors that morning and he was only slightly ashamed to admit that the sight of you had prompted his, ah, performance. 

“Who was that for?” You teased.

Caught. “No, one,” he answered evasively. 

He watched as your gaze travelled over the crowd that had gathered to watch the morning’s tournament, landing on Nimira who smiled softly at him in greeting.

“Ah,” you acknowledged. “I see.”

Growing alarmed at the conclusion you seemed to have reached, he quickly interjected, “No, that’s not…Nimira and I are not—”

“It’s okay,” you allowed. “We all need a little respite.”

That got his attention. Unable to help himself, he questioned, “Who’s giving you respite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Leyna.”

“Not saying!”

His brother’s voice interrupted the two of you. “Another round?” He called from the other side of the clearing. “You up for it, bro?”

Grimacing at the thought, he shook his head. “I’m done for the day.”

“Come on,” you cajoled, kneeling to whisper by his ear, “Mighty warrior.”

Eyes widening at the coquettishness of your tone, he turned sharply, meeting your gaze with a beseeching expression. 

“It’s okay, I suppose,” you allowed after a pause, a coy smile still playing on your lips. “It’s normal for males to lose some of their virility as they age.” 

Aghast, he cried, “I’m only a year older!”

It was working. You were in his head and you knew it. 

Grumbling, Neteyam clambered to his feet. “The things I do for you…” he muttered, reaching for your hand to steady himself. 

You giggled, stepping back from him to give the men space. “You love me,” you teased, smiling at him from where you stood with the other onlookers. 

“Not a chance,” he called back. Liar.

* * *

Thrumming with anticipation, Neteyam dismounted from his pa’li, turning to address the returning hunting party. It had been a successful hunt, having brought back enough yerik to feed the clan for the next few days, with the remainder of meat from the day’s meal being cured and stored away. 

“Thank you, brothers and sisters,” he called out, appraising the hunting party. “I thank you for your efforts, and I thank the Great Mother for providing.”

The crowd reciprocated his thanks, lifting prayers of their own to the Great Mother before dispersing at his dismissal. But it was not the euphoria of the successful hunt that had him fumbling with the saddle on his pa’li in his haste to leave. Rather, it was the prospect of an evening alone with you after weeks. 

Caught up in preparations for the Tipani clan’s visit and the general humdrum of clan life had kept you apart for much of the last few weeks. A few fleeting glances and quick exchanges of greetings in between their duties had left him wanting for your company. 

“Hot date?” his brother grinned impishly as he caught sight of his expression. 

Neteyam quickly schooled his expression into one of placid indifference. “No,” he answered plainly. “Just going out flying.” 

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Lo’ak chortled, thumping him on the back. “Hope you have a good flight, then, bro.”

“What are your plans, then?” Neteyam asked, hoping to direct his brother elsewhere. Technically, he was not doing anything wrong by meeting with you—it was hardly an illicit liaison—but he could not shake the discomfort he felt when it came to sharing the details of his budding association with you with his brother.  

“Ah.” Lo’ak smiled amusedly. “I’m going flying myself, actually.”

Neteyam followed his brother’s gaze to where it rested on an attractive female who blushed, nodding bashfully in Lo’ak’s direction. Seren was a good hunter, but Neteyam did not know her personally, certainly not in the way his brother seemed to know her. 

“Fuck off with the flying shit,” he shot back, tone teasing. “Seren, huh.”

“It’s not like that,” Lo’ak clarified. “We’re seeing each other casually, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yes, bro, I know what you mean.” Neteyam rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of what sex is.”

Lo’ak only chortled. “Celibacy is making you irritable.”

“I’m not—what are you—”

“You haven’t been seeing Nimira, have you?”

“That’s not—stop talking shit.” Neteyam spluttered, caught off guard by his brother’s observation. 

“We live together, remember?”

“That’s not—” Neteyam paused. “I’m not irritable because of that.”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps, I’m irritated because a certain brother of mine refuses to stop asking me annoying, intrusive, personal questions.”

“Ha..ha, you got me.” Lo’ak chuckled. “I’m still right about your, ah, problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Leaving his still tittering brother, Neteyam turned to head for the ikran calling point near the rookery. He was loath to lose precious time he could be spending with you and worried that he had kept you waiting in entertaining his brother’s antics. 

To his surprise, the clearing was empty, no sign of you or Pänu. Scanning the surrounding vegetation, he waited, expecting you to emerge any time. As the minutes ticked by, he grew more antsy, not knowing you to be tardy. 

Contemplating his options, he decided to return to the village and check your family’s alcove. Skin prickling from nerves, he swiftly scaled kelutral, padding along its boughs to reach the entrance to your family’s home. 

“Leyna,” he called, noting the lack of activity in the space. Perplexed, he turned a corner, sighing in relief when he caught sight of you, faced away from him with a food preparation mat before you. 

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not seem to have heard his initial call. 

“Leyna,” he called, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Great Mother,” you screeched, jumping at his touch. “Neteyam, you scared me!”

Slightly amused, he questioned, “What happened? We’re supposed to go flying, remember?”

“Wiya, I’m so sorry,” you cried, eyes widening at the realisation. “I was just so busy—” You nodded at the mess on the food mat. “—I can’t believe I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” he allowed, eyes tracing over the food mat. “Are you making melon cake?”

“Yes, well, I—your brother saw Txep eating it the other day and asked for some so I thought I’d make some for him. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

So, that was why you were late. Neteyam felt a sliver of irritation at your words. He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“You’re upset with me.”

“No, I’m not.” Neteyam said, his voice terse. 

“You are.”

“I’m really not,” he rebuffed, stepping back from you in a motion to leave. “You’ll need to wait to give him the cake, though.” He paused, before adding, “He’s busy with Seren now.”

“What was that?” You asked sharply.

“What?”

“That bit,” you pressed. “About Seren.”

Neteyam shrugged. “I just thought you should know his whereabouts if you were planning on giving my brother his food.”

“No,” you said slowly. “That wasn’t why you said it. Y-you—this isn’t about that, is it? My feelings—you were trying to hurt me.”

Neteyam opened his mouth, denial on his lips when he caught the anguished expression on your face. Had he really said that? To hurt you?

“This—you’re unbelievable,” you muttered. “That was months ago. I’m not—it’s not like that anymore.” You paused, breathing deeply. “Why does that even matter? Why do you care?”

In the many months he had spent with you, as your bond had grown stronger, he had fantasised, a hundred different times, of how he would confess his feelings to you. Perhaps, in the woods, where you would retreat to converse for hours in the seclusion of the thicket. Or, in the valley, during one of your trips, with you by his side, laughing gaily as you felt the cold water tickling your toes. But not this. Never this. 

So, he deflected, regretting the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. “It-it’s just—it’s sad to watch.”

“It’s sad to watch?” You repeated dully, folding your arms across your chest. “Then, maybe you should leave.”

“That’s not what I meant—it’s just—I don’t want you to get hurt.” He babbled, attempting to mollify you. 

“Huh,” you said slowly, unable to keep the animosity from spilling into your voice. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Leyna, I was only trying to—”

“Just go.”

* * *

“No.”

“Alright, then,” he acknowledged, slightly stung by her curt declination. 

“I wasn’t done,” Nimira continued, grabbing his shoulders to make him face her. “Stop.” She reached for his bow, prying it from his hands and setting it on a nearby rock. “Just, tell me what happened.”

“Why do you think something happened?” He queried, not quite meeting her eyes. “Does something have to happen for me to want you?”

“Actually,” she said, eyeing him sceptically. “In your case, yes.”

“Nim, please,” he sighed. “Just let it go. You said no. I heard it. We have patrol now.”

“We also had patrol when you propositioned me, hmm?” She pushed him lightly, urging him to sit, while she knelt beside him. “Now, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You’ve been moody all week—”

“I’m not—”

“—by Eywa, I’m sick of it. The sullen face and the one-word answers to everything.” Nimira shook her head. “You haven’t gone running off to find Leyna after evening patrol which means she’s involved somehow. So, just tell me what you did.”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

“Simple,” Nimira said, chuckling softly. “You’re shit with girls—”

“That’s not—I’m a grown adult, I’ve had—”

“I’m not talking about sex.” She poked his side teasingly. “We both know that you do just fine there. I was talking about relationships.”

Knowing that she would not back down until he confessed, he sighed, “I fucked it up, Nim. Everything.”

“Fucked it up how?”

Pausing, he replayed the memory in his head first, wincing slightly as he recounted the details, deliberately avoiding looking at her face. 

Nimira sighed when he fell silent. “Oh, Neteyam.”

“I was trying to protect her,” he mumbled feebly. The longer you held onto feelings for his brother, the more it would hurt. He only wanted to spare you the agony. Right. Right?

“That’s not why you said it,” Nimira said softly. “You were jealous—you are jealous.” Sensing his objection, she raised her hand to silence him. “Don’t deny it.”

“Maybe I am,” he allowed. “But now she won’t speak to me. I haven’t even seen her.”

“Then, go look for her and tell her you’re sorry.”

“What if she doesn’t accept it?” Dread pooled in his belly, recalling the anguished expression on your face.

“You have to try.” Her lips quirked upwards impishly. “And besides, I don’t have an opening tonight. I’m busy.”

Still languishing over his impending conversation with you, it took him a moment before he caught on to her meaning. “Wait,” he started, eyes roving over her face as she waited for him to continue. “You’re busy tonight. And you’re—” He gestured to her growing smile. “Aran?”

A delighted laugh bubbled forth from her. “It just happened.”

“When?”

She shook her head amusedly. “Maybe if someone wasn’t too busy brooding, he would’ve noticed.”

“Nim.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “We stayed back after training the other day. We were just talking and it just happened. He kissed me.”

“Oh, Nim,” he said warmly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she returned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d like to be happy for you too so apologise to her.”

Neteyam nodded solemnly, resolving to find you after last meal and rectify his mistake.

* * *

Neteyam padded quietly across the forest floor, smiling absentmindedly as it pulsed brightly with hues of green beneath his feet. It had taken some wheedling but he had finally managed to coax Ka’ni into revealing your whereabouts. You were praying at ultra ayomokriyä (tree of voices) and he was determined to catch you before you retired for the night. 

Pushing past the clusters of bioluminescent tendrils that grew from the tree, he wandered deeper into ultra ayomokriyä until he caught sight of your kneeling form, having already made tsaheylu with the tree. His heart clenched as his gaze landed on your face, eyes closed in prayer. It had only been a week and he had missed you greatly. 

Neteyam hesitated, caught between not wanting to interrupt your prayer but also growing uncomfortable, being made to feel like a voyeur. Steeling himself, he approached you slowly, kneeling next to you before gently tapping your shoulder to announce his presence. 

In spite of the gentleness of his action, you startled, jumping back and severing your neural connection with the tree. “Neteyam!” You yelped, chest heaving as you took in the sight of him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, desperately hoping that you would not send him away. 

“It’s fine,” you managed, breaths slowing as your panic waned. “You surprised me, is all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. For more than just startling you.

“It’s okay.” You moved to stand. “I should be leaving. It’s getting late.”

Neteyam shot up, reaching for your hand to stop you from moving away. “Wait.”

“Neteyam, what—”

“Please,” he implored. “Just give me a second, to explain.”

“Explain what?” You asked tiredly, still not pulling your hand out of his grasp. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. It was cruel and unfair.” He paused, watching your face for any reaction. “Please forgive me.”

“Neteyam, it’s just—” You sighed. “Is that all I am? The pathetic girl who trails after your brother?”

“Leyna, that’s not—”

“Let me finish,” you said. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Because, if you’re only here to babysit your brother’s lovesick little friend, then you can leave. Because that’s not what I am.” You laughed ruefully. “At least, not any more.”

“No, Leyna,” he pleaded, heart clenching at your words. “We’re friends. It’s not like that.” Friends, right. 

He could see your eyes softening and his foolish heart clung to the hope of reconciliation. By Eywa, he could not go another day without you, your beautiful smile and the pleasure of your company. He missed their evening flights together and the hours spent in the woods, content to engage in lively conversation as the sky darkened. Even if you only ever saw him as a friend, he would take what he could get….

After a long silence, you uttered the words he had longed to hear. “I forgive you, Neteyam.”

“Leyna, I—”

“And I don’t need your protection, okay?” You added carefully. “I’m a big girl and I’ve had feelings before.”

Wincing a little despite himself, he nodded. “Understood.”

Satisfied, you reached for his hand. “Come, let us pray.”

Relieved to have been forgiven, he smiled warmly at you, letting himself be led to where you had been seated before. Kneeling slowly, he reached for a cluster of bioluminescent tendrils, before bringing his neural queue towards it, watching as they joined eagerly. He sighed as the sensation settled, his eyes drifting shut. Tsaheylu.

An immediate calm fell over him, and he relaxed into it, feeling keenly the Great Mother’s presence around him. His mind drifted to thoughts of the Great Hunt, which was due to begin in a few days. He sought the Great Mother’s guidance and strength to allow him to lead the hunt successfully. 

Cracking an eye open briefly during his own prayers, he startled, not expecting to meet your gaze, eyes trained on him with a curious expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, with a tight-lipped smile. “Just thinking about something my grandmother said the last time I visited her.”

“What did she say?” 

“Oh, that’s a secret,” you said airily, laughing at the indignance blooming on his face. 

“Come on, te—”

“How did your parents fall in love?” You interjected, catching him by surprise. 

“Everyone knows that story,” he said slowly, curious as to your sudden interest in the subject. It was true, though. His parent’s love story had cultivated quite an ardent, ah, fanbase. Particularly among the younger girls who could be overheard giggling over the tale. Star-crossed lovers from different species who end up together; admittedly, he could grasp the appeal of the premise. However, over the years, the details of their whirlwind romance had undergone a rather intense metamorphosis, the details changing and shifting as they passed from ear to ear. Neteyam had had to step in and personally clarify many of the details himself. No, his father had not descended from the sky in his human form, free of any breathing apparatus. Ridiculous.

“Tell me anyway,” you coaxed, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Uh, my father came here with the tawtute, with the RDA.” His sentence ended with a soft snarl; he had not said that word in a long time. “He was here to learn more about the clan to get access to the lìngtskxe (unobtanium) deposit under the old tree.”

You tutted. “Eywa, now I know why you do not join me at the children’s hut for storytelling in the evenings,” you teased. “Put some emotion into it.”

“Do you want to hear it, or not?” 

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“While trying to learn about the clan for the RDA, he fell in love with sa’nok, who was training him for his initiation rituals.” He continued. “Then, he turned his back on the RDA and joined the clans to drive them away.”

“And he tamed toruk!” You added.

“Yes, he did,” he concluded, finding your excitement endearing. He wanted to kiss you.

Remembering another detail then, he added with a laugh, “They didn’t even have a proper ceremony. My grandmother never got to officiate their wedding—she still complains about it. They ran off and mated. Right here, actually.” 

“It’s so romantic,” you sighed, gazing wistfully into the distance. 

“I don’t think romance was on their mind.” He paused. “Sexual frustration, maybe?” He added with a grimace, not wanting to think of his parents that way.

“Wiya, you’re hopeless,” you admonished. “They came from different worlds and fell in love, what were the odds of them even meeting, hmm? It’s romantic.”

“If you say so,” he allowed, a small smile playing on his lips. “How did your parents fall in love?

“Oh,” you said, chortling. “Sempul and sa’nok met here after the first battle with the tawtute. He says that he fell in love with her immediately but sa’nok wouldn’t give him the time of the day.”

In a conspiratorial whisper, you added, “Sa’nok had feelings for someone else.”

Oh. His eyes widened at the detail; he would need to speak to your father one of these days.

“How did he win her over?” He queried, wary of appearing too eager. 

“Ah, sempul likes to joke that he managed to wear her down eventually,” you supplied. “But, sa’nok says that she found his determination endearing and found him more charming the longer they spent together. But, she didn’t know if she should stay here and not return home because sempul was too nervous to tell her. She didn’t want to leave her home for the possibility that he cared for her.” You paused. “What made her choose to stay was him telling her how he felt for her.”

Ah, that. The pesky fact of a confession. He had not yet gathered the courage to share his feelings with you. 

“That’s nice,” he added quickly, realising that he had been silent for longer than appropriate.

You looked at him curiously, finding his demeanour strange. He squirmed, resolving to tell you how he felt. Soon.

* * *

After much back-and-forth, he had finally been released from the healer’s alcove after a few weeks, a thin bandage at his side the only evidence of his injury. Though he knew they meant well, he had grown tired of the healers’ fretting and resented being caged in the alcove. 

But, there was also an, ah, other reason for his impatience, that was, his desire for more privacy. As he left the healer’s alcove, his thoughts returned to you, as they did more often than not. The heady feeling of your lips against his had become his new fixation. In the weeks since his injury, you had been a daily visitor, sneaking into the alcove in the evenings, once the other healers had retired for the night. 

He was pleased to note how little coaxing from him it had taken for you to renege on your vow not to kiss him until he had fully recovered. Though you remained painfully cautious of his injury, with every night that passed, he grew more daring in his touches. To his delight, he had come to see all of you during their nightly rendezvous in the healer’s alcove, shielded only by a wispy curtain between the beds. 

Unfortunately for Olin, she had also come to see all of you, courtesy of an errant moan and untimely mishap with the curtain. She had fled the alcove with a startled yelp followed by copious laughter. You had been mortified, burying your face in his chest, insisting that you would not return until he was discharged; you came back the next night.

Now that he was no longer under observation, he was free to do whatever and well, whomever he liked without fear of intrusion. Padding quietly through the forest, he followed a familiar path to where he knew you would be. 

As the vegetation thinned, he glimpsed you, on all fours, picking seeds from the ground. Pxorna seeds, he supplemented with a small smile. With the cooler season nearing, pxorna would become harder to find, which was why you had insisted on gathering enough before then. For him.

“Yawntu (loved one),” he called softly as he neared you, heart pounding in his chest as you turned, beaming at the sight of him. Setting your pouch down, you rushed towards him, pausing only as you reached him so as to not jostle him.

Pulling you securely against the warmth of his body, he inhaled your sweet scent, feeling the lingering aches in his body disappear. Leaning into his embrace, you burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“Did everything go okay?” You murmured, voice muffled where you were pressed against his skin. “Was the tsahìk upset about letting you leave?

“My grandmother? She wasn’t happy about it but she agreed.” He laughed softly before adding, “Olin was quite supportive, though.”

You pulled back, eyes widening at the implication. “I would hit you so hard right now if you weren’t still recovering.”

“You love me,” he crooned.

“That, I do,” you allowed, raising yourself on your toes to press your lips against his. He returned the kiss with equal fervour, hands trailing down your back to grip your hips to pull you closer. 

“I need you,” he murmured against your lips. “Now.”

The seclusion of the thicket bolstered your confidence and you responded by pulling away to untie your chest covering, letting it fall with a coy smile. 

Neteyam groaned at the sight of your bare breasts, reaching to palm them when you slapped his hands away, nodding meaningfully at him. Recognising your meaning, he acquiesced, reaching for the ties of his loincloth, letting the material fall from his hips, landing carelessly on the forest floor. 

Turning you gently, he pulled your back against his chest, nestling his chin in the crook of your neck while he inhaled deeply. The scent of you was intoxicating and made him want you even more. Trailing his lips down the soft skin of your neck, relishing the litany of moans and sighs that slipped past your lips at his gentle ministrations. 

Placing a hand on your belly, he pulled you firmly against you, letting you feel how much he wanted you. His other hand rose to cup the soft skin of one breast, fingers brushing over your nipple which pebbled interestedly under his attentions. “Oh, Neteyam.”

Growing impatient, he bent down to scoop you in his arms and lay you against the mossy ground. “Neteyam,” you cried in alarm, hands reaching for his bandage-covered side. “Your wound—”

Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he assured, “I’m okay, yawntu. It’s okay.”

“But, you need to—”

He silenced you with another searing kiss, smiling as your complaints slowly morphed into sighs as he deepened the kiss. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he returned, smiling impishly as he reached for the ties of your loincloth, undoing them swiftly before discarding the material off to the side. The pungent aroma of your arousal flooded his nostrils with its tantalising scent. 

Encouraged by your breathy moans, he reached down to trail his fingers gently between your thighs, smiling against the skin of your breast as you cried out at the action, grinding your hips against his hand. 

“Impatient, are we?” He teased, trailing his fingers deliberately around the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance, enjoying the way you writhed against him. 

“Neteyam.”

Watching your reactions carefully, he slowed his motions to dip his fingers lower, breaching you gently with one, then two fingers, the ache between his legs growing more insistent at the feeling of your tight warmth around his fingers. 

Setting a familiar rhythm, he pumped his fingers steadily in and out of you, eyes trained on your face. You were especially stunning in the throes of ecstasy and he leaned down to kiss you gently as his fingers continued their motion between your legs. 

Feeling a telltale clenching of your walls against his fingers, he urged you with sweet words whispered against the delicate tips of your ears. “You’re so beautiful…I love you so much…you’re perfect…come for me, my love….”

With a strangled cry, you came around his fingers, hands flying to grip the skin of his back as you rode out your high. Leaning down to nuzzle against the skin of your breast, he murmured, “You drive me wild, my love. I just want to be inside you.”

He felt you pull him upwards to kiss him again. “I’m ready,” you murmured softly in between kisses. 

Eager to be inside you, he pulled back, gripping his cock firmly, nudging it gently against your entrance, leaning forward to—

“Wait,” you cried suddenly, hands reaching to steady his hips. “You shouldn’t—your wound—”

“I’m okay,” he assured again, brushing his free hand gently against your cheek. 

“I know,” you muttered apologetically. “I just worry. Wait.” You pushed against his chest, prodding to him to lay on his back. “Let me,” you explained, his eyes widening in his realisation as you clambered on top of him, seating yourself deliberately against his straining cock. 

Not opposed to the change of position, he gladly acquiesced, bringing his hands up to grip your hips gently, guiding you into position, skin prickling from sheer pleasure as the head of his cock settled into place at your entrance. 

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You queried worriedly, casting a wary glance at your bandaged site, scooting imperceptibly further away from it. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, shifting his hips against yours, endeared by your worry but also impatient to be inside you. 

Gasping at the movement, you nodded, sinking down the length of him slowly until he was fully inside you, sighing in unison at the miraculous sensation of being joined this way. 

“You feel so good, yawntu,” he sighed, eyes rolling back as the pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

Cracking open an eye as you starting rocking above him, he groaned at the titillating sight before him. 

…the soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…

…beads of perspiration rolling down your bare chest as you moved against him…

…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

The line between his fantasies of you and reality blurred as his pleasure intensified. Eager for you to reach your peak before he lost control, Neteyam ramped up the pace of his hips, grinning at your startled cry at the shift in pace, which quickly dissolved into louder moans as you relished the increased friction between your bodies. 

With a loud cry, you climaxed around him, the insistent clenching of your walls around him pushing him over the edge. Gasping at the sheer force of his pleasure, he clutched you closely against him as his peak washed over him.

With a quick press of your lips against his, you shifted slowly to lay by his side, still facing him, an impossibly bashful expression on your face. He found it endlessly fascinating how you could go from rocking above him frenziedly to a blushing, stammering mess. 

“I love you,” he said, reaching forward to trail a hand down the curve of your cheek. 

“I love you, too,” you returned warmly, shifting slowly to rest against him, nuzzling into the skin of his chest, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

Just as his eyes drifted close, as he gave into the haze of post-coital drowsiness, he felt your lips press against his neck. Shifting his head to face you, he raised an eyebrow at the coy smile playing on your lips. “Again?”

You nodded sheepishly, pulling back to gauge his reaction. “It’s just different—we’re alone, finally—and I just want—it’s okay if you don’t—” You stammered out an explanation.

“You know I could never refuse you, yawntu,” he assured, halting your nervous stream of words. Wrapping his arms around your lithe form, he gently lifted you, settling you against his hips.

Relieved, you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so perfect. I love you inside me,” you whispered daringly against his lips. His eyes widened, hands reaching down to adjust himself against you until you were right where—

“Great Mother,” a voice screeched, followed by the sound of leaves rustling as their unwilling voyeur evidently began thrashing around in the surrounding shrubbery in their haste to turn away from the clearing they had been occupying.

“Olin?” He guessed, glimpsing a familiar face over your shoulder. 

“I was tired. I just wanted a walk and—I’m going now! Er, enjoy yourselves!”

Stifling his laughter, he called out an apology at her retreating figure, “I’m sorry. Again!”

“No need! Have fun—ack!”

Meanwhile, you groaned against his chest. “It happened again.”

Laughing, he patted your back comfortingly. “We’ll find somewhere else—no, I’ll build you something, okay? Where were we now?”

You lifted your head up from his chest to gaze down at him curiously. “You’re still good-to-go? After that?”

He shifted himself nonchalantly against you, the evidence of his readiness pressing firmly against the skin of your stomach.

Laughing incredulously, you shifted into position. “Well alright then, if you insist.”

[popculturebuffet]

Top 12 Captain Holt Plots (B99): RIP Andre Braugher

Andre Braugher 1962-2023

So as if this year hadn't piled enough death on me.. yesterday Andre Braugher of Brooklyn 99 fame died. Braugher was a comedic genius, great at drama and it's sad to see him go just as his career was having one hell of a second act.

Figuring out how to honor Andre.. was tough. I didn't have time for a full review of some of his best episodes, a story arc or the normal things i'd do, and a list of just Holt's best moments wouldn't really portray the characters depth. Don't get me wrong there's a LOT of hilarious little holt moments from "Hot damn!" to "Bam had it both ways" but it just didn't do the character justice. Holt was a character funny for his stoicism, his outburst of emotion clashing with that, and his chemistry with just about everyone on cast.

So I found a comprimise, something small I could do before my two bigger reviews this week, but something that still pays full service to what a great character Raymond Holt was... and how much of it was Braugher's amazing comedic timing and great dramatic talent. Ray MIGHT of existed without Captain Holt, but he wouldn't of been such a JOY to watch every time if it weren't for Braugher.

So I picked my 12 faviorite plots starring Captain Holt. Husband, Captain, Robot. Meeep Morp.

12. VINDICATTTTITOOOOOONNNN (Episode: Monster in the Closet)

Look a lot of this subplot making it here is this moment, from the fist pump to just how Braugher plays the word like an instrument, but the plot itself is comedy gold: Rosa Diaz, bisexual icon, is having a rush wedding to absentee boyfriend and human disaster Adrian Pimento, who returned after months in hiding the way anyone having a normal one does: by hiding in a child's closet.

Naturally this wedding didn't end up happening.. but it did bring us one of Holt's best running gags: his love of balloon arches. It's something that makes perfect character sense: he's a perfectionist, he loves art, and it's just weird enough to still be funny while not so weird you can't understand why Holt would be doing this. Holt pettily popping the ballons when crticized and going into a creative tailspin over minor critcisims is just gold and the payoff, him getting his VINDIIIICAAAATTTIOOOONNNNNN is both sweet.. and purespun gold from the highest of heavens.

11. The Disco Strangler Returns (He Said She Said) One of the serious episodes of the series, dealing with Amy and Jake tackling a sexual harassment case and Amy revealing her own assault, was paired with one of the series silliest, funnest b-plots.

This one COULD be here just on the strength of "And you'll here it again" but has way more to offer as Holt chases down his former nemesis the Disco Strangler after he seemingly dies, convinced he's alive while Terry and Boyle are convinced he just can't accept his enemey's death. Turns out their wrong though as the Strangler is alive, worked his groovy voodoo on a way younger woman and has one of the funniest scenes in the show as Holt TRIES to have a big action hero final talk with his nemisis.. only for the man to be largely deaf. It's a gag that shoudln't work but Baugher's commitment to the bit carries it, as does the reality of the strangler being so old and feeble hitting Raymond about his own mortality.

10. The Heists (Various Episodes)

Yeah this one's a bit of a cheat as it was hard to pick just one Heist Plot: After the first two their largely ensemble pieces. But it'd also be criminal to ignore just how SERIOUS Holt takes the annual halloween heists, from training his dog for them, to calling a fake replacement for Cheddar (the goodest of boys) "This bitch?", the Heists brought out the pettiest, hammiest parts of holt and the best of Braugher's comedey from threatning to slit his two protege's "from head to anus and wear them as a jacket", to his flight of the valkyries entrance, Holt was always a delight.

9. Pie (Two Turkey's) The shows final thanksgiving gave us it's best thanksgiving plot, and a nice spotlight on Holt's relationship with his Husband , kevin. Holt's queerness was baked into the character, being why it took him so long to climb the latter and why Kevin takes ab it to warm up to his new coworkers, as most of Ray's past coworkers were racist, homophobic or both. Holt and Kevin were just as weirdly stoic, with Mark Evan Jackson having great chemistry with Braugher.

The couple also just had their own weird things such as getting a special pie every year to get a pie for thanksgiving and finding the hours spent in dead silence on the trip deeply romantic.

Said pie is also what sets off the plot as it goes missing and Holt blames the presicnt and goes into full petty holt mode, one of the best kinds of holt. HOlt isn't the only star here as near constant fuckups and wallpaper Hitchcock and Scully prove useful for once as Holt investigates Rosa, Terry and Boyle. We get great moments from the three too as Boyle calls his own son "a basic bitch" and Rosa reveals an embarassing minons t-shirt as she rebonds with her family post jailtime.

Holt interogating everyone and going full ham would be enough to land it here.. but what elevates it to this slot is the ending: Holt finds out the culprit was Kevin, who hates the pie but would miss the drive. HOlt suggests simply.. taking the drive for fun and Kevin is super horny for that. It's adorable, sweet and a great capper to one of the shows best subplots.

8. Let's Never Talk About Anything (Stakeout)

This is a quick one as it's mostly on the comedy but it's a scenario that's both deeply, deeply funny, and involves one of the shows best duos: Rosa, the stoic bicon herself, and Holt. Both being stoic queer persons, they naturally get along great. And of course it's natural Rosa ends up the one in a very awkward situation through almost no fault of her own: Holt brings his cardboard standee of a human being Nephew named Marcus, whose staying with him for some reason never elaborated upon because Marcus is here for one thing: to date rosa and have one of the best awkward morning afters EVER: He tries to sneak rosa out.. only for Holt and Kevin to naturally both be up, and his using her full name and mild confusion are just.. great. The wrap up, that Rosa and Holt are both FINE not talking about this or anything ever, is great. The followup plot with the two forced into a dinner is fine, but this first interaction and the two being on the same stoic page is gold.

7. Apparently That's a Trigger For Me (The Box)

This is another one that has a strong moment couched in, but really the Box is just a very strong episode, a tense 22 minutes as Jake and Holt team up to try and get a confession out of a local dentist played by sexiest man alive Sterling K Brown, who does great getting under their skin, including with said doctor bit as Docterates are a bit of a trigger for Holt. the episodes fantastic chess match between our faviorite duo and Brown is just fun to watch and it's only this low because Jake gets the big finale. But Holt's oh damns are still vital. As is his over the top reservation cancelation. God bless this man. I miss you andre.

6. They never actually said No (Full Boyle)

Like, really, ALL of these there's a classic gag couched in here as Holt explains how he formed his black gay and lesbian police orginzation: he pitched it to his fellow entirely white and certainly straight cops who laughed their asses off.. then went ahead and got the funds since they were too busy being jackassses to say no. Dark, hilarious, and perfectly showing just how much shit holt's been through trying to get here.

And that background helps shape this plot which while not laugh FREE is mostly anchored on the good Captain's character journey: when a younger officer plans to challenge holt for predsency, Holt, as you'd expect digs in and refuses. He's not at full ham yet, but he's still fully willing to fight tooth and nail for this, that after all he had to go just to make this group, brian wouldn't understand

It's Gina of all characters who points out that's why he made the group. So younger officers wouldn't have to go through that. Brian has new ideas to genuinely improve and open up the doors for more queer black officers, and Holt recognizes that and steps aside.. though if he screws up he will impeach him. He's happy for him but he will impeach him.

5. I've Glanced At His Work Satchel (The Honeypot)

This episode's a-plot is just one long hilaroius bit of holt deadpanning as he gets a new assitant to replace Gina.. only to find the guy flirting with him. Having his tie slightly ajar and inviting him to a barrel museum counts as flirting in Holt's book. Turns out Gordon is a spy for our heroes latest nemisiss, corrupt comissioner kelly, and this brings this plot to ahead as finding out, and getting evidence hw as actively spying on them finally gets rid of the old bastard. It's a nice payoff.. but it's really here because Holt declaring a barrel museum an erotically charged atmosphere is classic deadpan holt. If you want premium deadpan holt, this is your episode.

4. Terry Come Here and Dangle Me Off the Edge of this Building (Bad Beat)

This episode is one of my faviorites, having both a lot of rich character stuff for holt.. and a lot of funny deadpan for holt.

This ep reawakens something that's mostly come up previously as a joke: holt had a serious gambling addiction in his past and when Jake and Terry come to him for help with a poker case, Holt's forced to join in as the two have obvious tells.

Holt's relapse is a nice mix of hilaroius and deeply troubling: he's betting on childrenj's gymnastics (No jayla don't drop the baton!) runs up to the roof when the pagent's cut off and as seen above wants Terry to dangle him over a roof.. Braugher does a hell of a job threading a very narrow needle here: Hotl's antics are funny, but still jarring enough to be worrying.. .and the laughter stop when Jake pulls the one card he has... he'll tell kevin, an idea alone that DEVISTATES holt as he can't put kevin through that again.

Unfortunately it's not THAT easy as Holt goes rogue.. then nearly gets captured, having to use improper grammar and admitting he needs help. Ther'es no easy answers here and while granted Holt's addiction never comes up again.. it's a sign addiction dosen't go away easily and everyone needs help.

3. The System (Moo Moo) Props to Brooklyn 99 as depsite being a cop show, it pointed out many a problem in the NYPD and police in general long before George Floyd made it too loud to ignore for us white dumbasses.

This episode is the main showcase of that: while the show had plenty of corrupt cops for our heroes to foil, Moo Moo shows the system ITSELF is broken and ther'es no easy answer to fix it.

The setup is simple, heartbreakingly common, and painful: Terry goes out at night in his nice neighborhood looking for one of his daughters "moo moo", her faviorite toy.. only to get accosted by a police officer, with only the fact he IS an officer making this end well.

Terry does try to handle this peacefully, inviting the guy to lunch, and trying to explain why racial profiling him like that was fucking awful. The officer dosen't listen, only thinks he was wrong because Terry is also a cop, and is generally a dick.

This leaves terry, who has a promotion on the table, with a fairly simple path: report the son of a bitch. Except .. HOlt dosne't send it in. Holt wants Terry to stay quiet, so Terry can get promoted. it's one of the oldest fights in a broken system: Should you make noise and take care of something horrible immdeitly, or stay quite and let harm go on so you can do more good later. The latter is clearly Holt's go to not out of corruption but out of survival: as a black gay cop, he had no real allies for the longest time, and thus had to simply keep his nose to the ground and work his way up to where he had real power. Terry on the other hand, argues, rightly that he dosen't want another man like him to go through this, one without a badger and that his career... simply isn't worth more innocnet black men being arrested falsely. There isn't an easy resolution with both acknowlding each others point: Holt supports terry and gets the guy fired, but Terry is passed over impliclty as a result and admits he could've impacted more change. Terry still did the right thing.. but it wasn't the easy thing. Police.. .simply aren't set up to properly police themselves and change is needed and it was noble of b99 to point that out without going over the top with it.

2. BOONNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEE (The Skyfire Cycle)

Okay look while this plot is good on it's own (I"m teaching father the math!) it's up this high ENTIRELY due to the Bone Scene. You've seen it, i've seeen it, it's the reason this plot goes from "pretty good" with Rosa seeing through holt's math problem to his marital issues and need to get laid, and Amy trying hard to impress her dads and acting lik ea grossed out child anytime holt's sex life comes up. This bit belongs to braugher.. but you NEED Beatriz and Fumero to set it up so perfectly and react so great to it.

Rosa being rosa just comes out and says "You just need to bone" and holt LOOOSES IT.

Every line from that moment is pure poetry from Braugher's mouth, from his squeaky "what'dyousay" to his shakesperean "hooooowww dare you detective diaz I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER." and of course his glorious shouts of BONE and BONNNNENEEEEE while he VIBRATES ON HIS DOORFRAME. His quick yups in the resolution are the cheery on top of the greatest comedy sundae ever conducted by man. Sports. This subplot hinges on one joke.. but when it's the series best joke, it's REALLY hard to argue. It's only not #1.. because our #1 is CRAMMED with jokes near this level.

Ding Dong The Wuntch Is Dead (Ding Dong)

Ding Dong is one of my faviorite episodes of B99. Even it's subplot's grown on me with Terry bending a quarter in mid air and the strawberry basket. But let's face it while the subplot is.. kay, it's the main event that makes it a classic and when I do the inevetible top 12 list, possibly for feburary, this episode is almost guarnateed a spot for damn good reason.

If your wondering why I haven't brought up Holt's legendary rivarly with Madeline Wuntch it's because while their all fucking gold, their teid into larger plots. And while this one kinda is, with Wuntch's death wrapping up Holt's time as a patrol officer, it's really just there to sned the character off and give us one of the funniest episodes in human history.

Everything about Holt's petty rivarly with Wuntch that makes it one of the best thigns in the show is on display here and the shock I had to the opening of ding dong was palpable: Holt's making his usual jabs, calling her a korean tolilet ghost (and having gone to korea just to find new monsters to call her).. before Terry, trying and failing to head this off drops the bomb: Wuntch is dead. Naturally Holt dosen't buy it, assuming we'd hear the children singing (all the childrne everywhere), and having to see her body for himself. Given their rivarly and what an elaborate scheme Wuntch left FOR her funeral, it's not hard to see why.

What follows is the very best of petty holt from the glory that is BAGEL, BAGEL, to his assumption ET is a monster because "he caused quite a comotion), Baugher is at his PEAK this episode comedically, handeling his Rival's death with joy and too many lines to count, with Amy's horror and Rosa's unabashed joy at his pettiness being perfect bounce off points.

Add in comedy legend Micheal Mcdonald as Wuntch's nephew playing her rival, a fake funeral and an attempted funmeral full of balloon arches and bright pastels and you have one of the greatest peices of televesion comedy ever. Rest in peace Andre.... your dearly missed.

[fimproda]

Nessian B99 AU - Part 2

Part 1 - Bonus

@nessianweek

Let's begin right where we left off, shall we?

After their first official kiss, Cassian and Nesta have a heart-to-heart and decide to keep things casual for the moment.

But do they obey their own rules? Of course not, it's Nessian we're talking about!

Fortunately for them, this proves to be the very best start a relationship can possibly have. In fact, they move in together soon enough, and years — and various shenanigans — down the line, Cassian proposes during the squad's annual Halloween Heist.

When asked how he knew he was going to marry Nesta, Cassian says this:

The next months are spent between work and wedding planning:

And even though basically everything goes awry on their wedding day, they still manage to tie the knot before their friends and families.

Their next big step is having a baby. However, fertility issues get in the way, and having to deal with this situation, Cassian and Nesta grow more and more tired and cranky until they almost abandon all hope.

But eventually, that pregnancy test turns positive, and Nesta gives birth to a beautiful baby girl.

(It's a boy in the show, but Nessian are girl parents. Fight me, I guess.)

Parenthood is not easy, but they know they can always count on each other, even when it comes to juggling work and family life.

AAAND SCENE!

[silverwarewolf]

🥀 - Favorite unusual compliment? (ie "You're crunchy")

💎 - Favorite thing about yourself? (Appearance, personality, etc)

and

🎀 - What character do you feel represents NPD best?

:3

Yes, yes, thanks for the ask!! For the many questions!! I love answering questions!! Ask game here.

I have the same energy as a hamster who is being studied, sometimes. Which does tie into the first question.

🥀- Well, I love compliments in general. Surprising, right? (/sarcasm). But this is about unusal compliments. There's one that I have gotten textually which was "you need to be studied in a lab," and honestly, yes! It reminds me of that one scene in b99 where Gina has the attention of an entire group of professionals.

There's also the category of compliments that are normal ones but said in a freaked out tone. For example, when I mention some strange and unusual fact and people are like "you're so knowledgeable" but they have visibly been dealt psychic damage by what I just said. It's fun!

Last but not least, frogboiling. "You talk so much about [strange and unusual topic] that I like it now / am desensitized to it / think about it sometimes" is HELL YEAH from me. Alas, I suppose it starts to veer away from "unusual compliment" territory.

💎- I feel like a cat who has been given a sack of catnip?? Hello?? Mm, well. is it cheating when I say "my vibe"? Perhaps if I specifically say "being reliable / dependable / a role model," which I know I am.

I've taught people how to cook / bake. I've taught people how to paint and write and sew. I am always ready to offer good advice, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, etc. I have very sharp senses so I can help people identify smells / flavors / sounds from really far away / who is walking nearby. I know various methods of healing! And uhhh I also think I'd make a great parent someday teaching so many skills - and singing, boy I can't wait to sing lullabies I know they would love my lullabies.

🎀- hmm! hmm hmm hmm let me think... i rarely retain information about characters who are canonically disordered, and there's also the whole "good representation" nuance aspect... not to mention that i'm sure my other disorders also change the ways i act, lmao!

all this to say that this comes from a personal feeling of "oh yeah it would be so tasty if this character had npd, they own it, i love it."

of course, shout out to my boy narcissus who was so upset about the inexistence of clonefucking that he died <- GREATLY EXAGGERATED SUMMARY OF THE MYTH at least the version i know

Okina Matara, from Touhou Project. Ah, I could ramble for hours about this series if given the opportunity, but I shall not. Instead, quote the wiki, she has no mercy for disrespect and graciously blesses those she favors, is ostentatious, prideful, confident, self-centered, a mastermind of incidents, has connections to MANY parts of the lore and mythology, and ultimately her first appearance was all about drawing attention and reverence to herself. Plus, she has a canonical connection to disabilities!

Yukari Yakumo / Maribel Hearn, also from Touhou Project. Ditto, I will mostly quote the wiki. She is a mastermind, has incredible intellect, very abstract and private goals, a facade of whimsy and deceit while also actively enjoying making others fear her, and is generally considered as someone who calls the shots. She also has quite the flowery language. Furthermore, as Maribel, she is othered for her tastes / demeanor / abilities, and textually calls herself a celebrity who should be indulged.

Asuka Langley, from Evangelion. Mainly Soryu, as I've yet to watch the rebuild movies, but from what I hear, they don't change her personality that much. Anyhow. The very explicit need for attention and praise, and huge dependance on her self worth (and others' acknowledgement of her worth) is very npd to me. Granted, given the nature of Evangelion, going in depth about the characters' psyches is... a complex venture.

Lapis Lazuli, from Houseki no Kuni. Oh boy oh boy I LOVE HnK, it has such WONDERFUL themes of body horror and existentialism and peace. Anyway. Quote the wiki. He has a charming, leading personality, extremely smart, curious, and at times manipulative. They have been called surprisingly deceitful (could conceal secrets for centuries). So yeah, I love him.

Ahaha, I rambled on quite a bit, didn't I? Again, thanks for the ask!!

[carlos-in-glasses]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @chicgeekgirl89 @theghostofashton @sugdenlovesdingle @ladytessa74 @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand @orchidscript @alrightbuckaroo @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @jesuisici33 ❤️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Twenty! <- Linking to the masterlist I recently made because I love the banner! -> This is a direct link to my Ao3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

270,729

3. What fandoms do you write for

Only 9-1-1 Lonestar. It’s hard to imagine writing for anything else, but time shall tell.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Chasers 🏃🏽 When Soulmates Swim 💦 Afterglow of a Supernova ⭐ The Heart Behind the Shield ❤️‍🩹 The Light of Our Life 🦎

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I sure do. The idea of not responding breaks my heart a little, and I always feel bad for keeping people waiting, although I do. I like to respond chattily if it matches the commenter’s energy, and with a lot of gratitude, but on weekdays I usually end up in a headachy stupor so end up pushing responses until I feel awake. I’m so grateful that people take the time to read and comment. I have to tell them. I don’t even know how to explain how it feels to receive positive comments on my writing after writing into the void for so long before I tried my hand at fanfic. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them are truly angsty because they all end on a note of TK and Carlos loving each other through anything, but it’s probably Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines because it’s a 3x08 coda and TK is grieving. Or The Center of the Maze because the last chapter is partly a 4x18 coda Carlos is grieving for Gabriel. These boys have been through a lot!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

With Infinity Folded into it – plot being that right after TK proposes, Carlos reflects on the first time they said ‘I love you’. It’s fluff all the way down. But I also want to throw The Ruins of Wonderland (breakup/reconciliation AU) and Release the Hand to Relax the Animal (smut city) into the mix.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I was recently visited by the Carlos-hater fairy, as a few of us have been. It stung. But mainly I came away feeling really sad for the person behind that account.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

The kind where Carlos faceplants the headboard. The kind where they break the bed. The kind where they have tantric sex for hours. The kind where things are inside Carlos while he’s inside TK. The kind where they frot despite potentially being overlooked by ghosts (not as dumb as it sounds).

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t, but I’d love to write a Tarlos fic that heavily involves Kevin and Captain Holt from B99. I’d find it challenging to get Kevin and Holt’s voices right, so inspiration will really need to grip me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes – I was alerted by a lovely reader that portions of one of my fics had been plagiarised. I had to contact Ao3. A lot of people in the fandom really rallied and helped in various ways when it happened and I was lost at what to do. I want to say a big thank you because you shone like a beautiful bright light. It’s not at all flattering to be plagiarised – it feels absolutely terrible.   

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I’d like to! It’s a question of finding the time (and agreeing ideas and how to go about it) so as to not let the collaborator down.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Tarlos. And may it never find land.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I typically only work on one thing at a time – so I don’t have an unfinished WIP gathering dust. I hope I’m able to write and post all the ideas I have eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told more than once: Imagery, dialogue, characterisation, and carrying themes through.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting and the more technical stuff. Being a good creative writer doesn’t necessarily translate to perfect grammar and syntax and all that jazz (I did very poorly in school across the board, which I’m sure is a surprise to nobody). I spend a long time editing my fics and fixing things post-production. What gets uploaded to Ao3 is the result of many rethinks and rescue missions. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I would like to work some Spanish into my current WIP (and in fact I’m planning for it to have a Spanish title) I think it’s completely fine to include other languages within fics. If anything it can provide context.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

9-1-1 Lonestar – my beloved, my first and only.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

The 90k story known as Flashback Fic (for now), which I’ll start posting in November, is my favourite fic because I genuinely think it’s the best thing I’ve written ever and I can’t wait to share it. I’ve been exploring the pasts of TK and Carlos in a way I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and linking it to the present, wherein Carlos is has been seeking Gabriel’s killer and floundering. For posted fics, When Soulmates Swim was the most fun I’ve had with characterisation and I loved spending time with TK and Carlos in my head throughout. Chapter 4, Lover’s Leap, was challenging to write but I love how it came out. Feedback on the ‘big moment’ in that chapter has been amazing. But I’m also really proud of The Center of the Maze, which I think is the most ‘beautiful’ and consistently so. I feel weird saying that about my own writing, but I felt really good about it during a re-read (I don’t often re-read them).

I'm not entirely sure who has/hasn't done this so open tag (please tag me back!) and if you haven't done it already/want to: @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @taralaurel @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @rosedavid @chaotictarlos @catanisspicy @noxsoulmate @three-drink-amy @sanjuwrites @lightningboltreader @goodways @wandering-night19 @mikibwrites - no pressure/ignore at your leisure 💘

[coldflasher]

Okay I'm sure we all have spent way too much time thinking about speedster biology in various contexts for fic reasons, but you know what I cannot stop thinking about? How does speedster biology affect the menstrual cycle???

It must do, right? It has so many effects on the body---rapid metabolism, speed healing, potentially immortality (let's not open that can of worms again lmao), increased cell reproduction rate, etc. There's no way that it doesn't have some effect on their periods.

We know that speedsters (at least those with penises/testes etc.) can reproduce, so clearly it doesn't cause sufficient havoc to make them infertile---though there is some evidence to suggest that it could make it harder to conceive, since it takes Barry and Iris quite a while to get pregnant with Nora (interesting, since I always kinda figured speedster biology would increase the sperm count, but that's probs more to do with fandom brain rot making me convinced speedsters have a higher libido; not sure there was ever any canon evidence of that).

Realistically they probably did this for TV reasons, because by the rules of fiction, TV characters get pregnant easily when they do not want to, but if they're trying, then it will be incredibly difficult and take months to the point that they're like "ugh, we have to have sex AGAIN i guess even though we'd rather be doing literally anything else" (I'm looking at you Flash AND B99, I hate this trope, if sex is becoming a chore maybe you should uh. not do it for a while?)

Also, Jay Garrick and Joan, the only other speedster/normal person couple we know, don't have kids that we know of. Again, maybe they just didn't want them, maybe they met after Joan was menopausal, not sure we ever got confirmation either way, but that could be a point towards the speedforce affecting the reproductive system.

Anyways, either way the show doesn't address how speedster biology affects periods. They probably never thought about it, honestly; everyone knows characters on TV don't have periods, they figure out they're pregnant due to sudden random morning sickness, not a tampon or period tracking app in sight. But EYE am thinking about it.

If every process in the body speeds up, do they have more frequent periods that are just over really quickly? (Not sure if this would be better or worse than the usual kind? Probably worse, defo more annoying.) And if so, what is the hormonal cycle like? Are some speedsters going through mini PMS cycles on a weekly basis? (My thoughts and prayers are with them if so.) Are their periods super irregular? Do their periods maybe stop entirely at some points, due to the strain of constantly running around and the struggle of eating enough to maintain the body weight required to stay regular? This is something that happens with regular old athletes, so it could definitely happen to a speedster that burns a huge amount of calories and is EXTREMELY physically active.

Also, does the healing factor affect the duration of the period? That's one point in favour of a faster cycle, maybe a lighter flow, reduced cramps?? Imagine how much those period hunger cravings would suck when you already have to eat like 15000 calories a day! Like if I, as a person with a standard metabolism, feel the urge to devour everything in sight at that time of the month, how much worse would it be as a speedster for whom "constantly starving" is the default?

Of course, the most boring option is that they're just normal periods, and that's probably what the writers would say, if pushed. that's the coward's answer, tbh, but hey, maybe their periods are normal.  We never see any of the female speedsters on the show attempt to get pregnant, so again, we can't say if they would have difficulties, maybe they'd ovulate totally normally. Maybe Barry and Iris had issues just because sometimes people do just struggle to get pregnant for whatever reason. either way, it's SO interesting to think about.

Anyway this ramble was brought to you by me working on a fic where Iris becomes the Flash instead of Barry and making a throwaway reference to her having PMS and then being like WAIT. WHAT HAPPENS TO HER PERIOD. INQUIRING MINDS NEED TO KNOW.

[cherikdogfood]

Thank you to @inmymagnetoera for tagging me.

Are you named after anyone?

No, I know there are others with the same name, but I wasn't named after anyone in particular.

When was the last time you cried?

With tears? Err, probably a few months ago. Without tears (just frustrated sobbing) probably yesterday.

Do you have kids?

No.

What sport do you play/have played?

I've played a lot of sports back in school because it was required, such as basketball, football, volleyball, baseball, and running. Now, I don't do any of that, but outside of school, I like (but I can't do it professionally of course) archery, bungee jumping, and skydiving which I'm planning to do but haven't gotten the chance to do it yet.

Do you use sarcasm?

Hmm, yes, but I also love cursing in various languages and in slang because people have no idea what I just said.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

What language they speak in, and I always check to see if they could potentially overpower me. I know it sounds weird, but I come from a not very nice (read, abusive) family and when I see people I need to know if they're a threat to me.

What's your eye color?

Brown.

Happy ending comedies or horror?

Happy ending comedies!! Like B99... I'm scared of horror movies, and unless I can convince myself it's okay, then I won't watch horror movies.

Here's what I mean: I managed to convince myself to watch "Split" (starring James McAvoy) because I kept distracting myself with his handsome face. Is that blood? No, it's James McAvoy's gorgeous face!

Any talents?

Whistling. Also, I can lift one eyebrow, like Dwayne Johnson's meme, you know?

Where were you born?

Can you guess? 😉

What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, watching stuff. Sometimes I like dog blood and dog food, depending on my mood.

Edit (it sounded like I was some kind of dog eater damn it):

dog blood -- melodrama, angst, h/c

dog food: fluff, pda, sweet moments.

Any pets?

No.

How tall are you?

4'11"

Dream job?

Screenwriter. Unfortunately, reality is cruel, so I'm planning to be a teacher instead.

Also, I noticed there are 14 questions, so I took the liberty of adding one more to make it 15:

Favorite food?

Noodles.

And I shall tag: @xaviersjames @fullcatkryptonite @turtletotem @ikeracity @ireneadonovan @itsmrvlxh50 @dick-helmet-magneto @mostlymarvelgirl @undead-vendetta @roosterbox @magnetosfavorite

[blueparadis]

WRITING RULES

ONE. I write for a variety of fandoms. I mainly write n.sfw & dc, and rarely sfw; if your suggestions interest me I'll take it without further thought. You can refer to this post if you have any doubts regarding thirsts & suggestions vs requests. you can send thirsts/suggestions for drabbles, scenarios and headcanons (0.5k -1k) and headcanons ( 4 characters ).

TWO. ⁰¹do not send me n.sfw suggestions if you're a minor or ⁰²don't have an age indicator in your blog or ⁰³it's stated: “closed”. I'll decline it, even if its piques my interest.

THREE. I'll not write sequels of any fics but that doesn't mean you can't send your thoughts, you definitely can send your after thoughts. I might write about it, maybe a drabble but generally I don't think I'm built for part twos.

FOUR. I'll write fandom!versions of a headcanon post that I HAVE previously done for another fandom. Suggestions of characters for headcanons for “part two”/ different fandom!version is welcomed. All characters I write are adults, that is, twenty years of age and above. expansion of fandoms can be found at the end of this post.

FIVE. I use third person pov/second person pov with she/her pronouns ( preferably f!sub!reader ) Some of my works are in the second person with afab!reader/fem!dom!reader. Each posts have proper content warnings so read carefully before proceeding. since my default is f!reader, I'll stick to that if you don't specify it.

I do not take requests anymore unless it is for an event I make but I do take suggestions.THIRSTS ARE ALWAYS ENTERTAINED.

I also do writing commissions. You can view the details HERE. And if you want to tip me, here is my ko-fi.

Since I'm a multifandom blog i do not have much hard no's for characters. so, if you have doubts shoot an ask if I'll be willing to write on them or not. that being said. I DO WRITE SAPPHIC CONTENT, THAT IS, FEMALE CHARACTERS ( with fem!reader / afab!reader ) ARE ACCEPTABLE TOO.

I’LL WRITE ABOUT : —» SFW + N.SFW, DC — yandere, taboo topics ( incest ), porn without plot, porn with plot, (heavy) angst, major character death, polyamory, fluff, hybrids, a/b/o dynamics, dubcon, various bdsm plays and hard kinks like cnc . . . ANYTHING EXCEPT - bestiality, necrophilia, pedophilia, rape, vore,scat-play.

NON-ANIMANGA —» stranger things, wednesday, game of thrones, house of the dragon,how to get away with murder, supernaturals, tvd, bbt, b99.

+

ANIMANGA —»

→ bleach [ ukitake jushiro, urahara kisuke,shinji hirako, yoruichi,rukia kuchiki, byakuya kuchiki]

→ tokyo revengers [ chifuyu matsuno, manjiro sano, sanzu haruchiyo, haitanis, kokonoi hajime, inui seishu, izana kurokawa, wakasa imaushi, yuzuha shiba.]

→ genshin impact [ kaveh, xiao, kaeya alberich, thoma, zhongli, childe, ayato kamisato, al-haitham, pantalone.] [ Arlecchino, Ayaka, Candace , Columbina, Nilou,Raiden shogun,Yelan ]

→ jujutsu kaisen [ uthahime iori, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, inumaki toge, yuuta okkotsu, higuruma hiromi.]

→ chainsawman [ yoshida hirofumi, aki hayakawa,power,quanxi]

→ kimetsu no yaiba [ tengen uzui, sanemi shinazugawa, nezuko, mitsuri.]

→ attack on titan [ armin artlet, eren yeager, mikasa ackerman, pieke finger, annie leonhart, levi ackerman.]

→ haikyuu [ sakusa kiyoomi, atsumu miya, sugawara koushi, oikawa tooru.]

→ blue lock [anri teieri, hyoma chigiri, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, reo mikage, oliver aiku,itoshis, isagi yoichi ]

→ boku no hero academia [ aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, keigo takami.]

although I've listed my favs but i'm flexible with most of the characters. fandoms listed here are open for suggestions and thirsts.

OTHERS →

honkai star rail, spy x family,hell's paradise,vinland saga, tokyo ghoul, castlevaniayuukoku no moriarty, vanitas no carte, gangsta, kuroko’s basketball, obey me, tougen anki, psycho pass, buddy daddies, wind breaker, one piece, kaiju number eight, sakamoto days.

[benwvatt]

oooh, for the writer's ask game: 4, 10, 11 and 34, please :)

thank you for the ask! <3

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

I've never been published and don't particularly want to be; at least, not for creative writing. (In my academia life, yes, I would love to be published!) In terms of fandom, I mostly would love to be a part of more zines, fandom writing events, and fanfic. I have all these ideas and much less energy to execute my ideas. (SOMEDAY, I COULD/MIGHT WRITE THE JAPRIL KICKBOXING FIC, AS WELL AS THE JAPRIL FICLET COLLECTION THAT I'M DREAMING OF! No promises, sadly.)

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

Eh, maybe I should, but not usually. I'm often caught on the seesaw between 'fandom event deadlines keep me accountable!' and 'great, now I have signed up for a big event I need to be accountable to', and I sign up for quite a few fandom events per year.

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

Oooh, I love this question. Alright, here's a smattering of books: The Great Gatsby, The Raven Cycle series, The Anthropocene Reviewed, The Fault in Our Stars; I really don't read that much, but I do think the whimsical-lyrical-gentle-poetic-sad nature of the books I love inspire me. Additional shoutout to the dozens of fic authors in the B99 fandom that have inspired me, such as elsaclack; the poet Yilin Wang; tons of other fic authors in my various fandoms; several comics published by Quindrie Press; Calvin and Hobbes; Foxtrot; Pokemon; L.M. Alcott; Matilda, etc., I could go on for a while.

[outeremissary]

Oooh how about 18 (if you want to, it looked like a funny question), 32, and 37 for Balthazar?

I fear I'm going to disappoint you on 18- I don't have my ex's encyclopedic memory of B99 even if thanks to them I think I've seen the whole show about five times over. ^^;; But I can do my best for the others!

[prompt]

32. Your character is having a prom night/debs. What kind of outfit do they wear?

Hm, a modern question. Balthazar is so weird to define in modern style because we live in an era where masculine clothing is rather enclosed. I think being trans in a modern setting vs. a fantasy setting also comes with a different kind of weight. But there's a fantasy element to prom, and certainly a certain kind of spite that queer teens bring to it (at least in my own experience). His outfit is cobbled together from a combination of thrifted oddities and ordinary formalwear. The pride of this ensemble is a bright red blouse with ruffly poet sleeves that must have been nearly fifty years out of style. He goes as friends with Linzi and both of them are called vampire lesbians at school for a week afterwards. It's a nightmare.

At this point in his teen years he would have been a true terror if he'd been left in the Catholic school he went to when he was younger.

37. Your character has been kidnapped. Who has kidnapped them and how do they escape?

Hm, a lot of possible answers here. To seize on one that nearly did happen: one of Balthazar's great fears when he was younger and homeless for a time was getting picked up by any of the various cults that valued having a discount celestial on hand for various gruesome reasons- there's a reason the average lifespan of aasimar is so low. He was never very capable of defending himself despite his sorcerous abilities, so he slept with one eye open and was constantly paranoid about anyone he spent the night with. He can vividly remember an evening that he was approached by a pleasant, well-dressed woman who seemed especially set on talking to him; when she bent forward he caught the briefest glimpse of a death's head moth tattoo under her shirt. Even after he made his excuses and left the bar she had cornered him in, he kept thinking he caught saw someone from the corner of his eye following him throughout the evening. He ultimately spent the night on the floor of a temple of Abadar with a concerned young cleric near him. It's frighteningly easy to imagine what could have happened if he hadn't picked up anything strange about that woman. He could have easily gone along with her to her home- or wherever she decided to lead him- and woken up imprisoned who knows where (if he'd woken up at all).

If he was stuck in a situation like that, it would be difficult to escape, and it would have to be done fast. He would seize on the first opportunity he had with one of his captors alone to attempt to charm them into either giving him the opportunity to get away or getting close enough that if he put them under with a spell he could get either the keys (ideally) or a weapon away from them. There wouldn't be much more for it then except making a break for it and hoping he got lucky. Who knows- somehow his abysmally terrible luck somehow always balances out in the critical moment. Despite everything, maybe the gods look out for him after all.

[taylor-on-your-dash]

why did you create a side blog if you had a blog already? im new to tumblr and i'm trying to understand side blogs

i'm guessing that you came here from twitapocalypse, yeah? first of all, welcome!

i created a side blog cause while i'm a taylor fan, i'm also a tumblr bitch. i've been on this site (on and off, with various blogs) since 2011. i like the idea of being able to have a main, multifandom blog to post about my fixation of the moment™️ (currently b99) and a side blog that's specifically about something that's been in my life for a while. taylor is a constant in my life but she's not my only passion, you know what i mean? the only thing that i don't like is that i can't answer with this blog but only with the main one, otherwise, i'm happy with the side blog situation

hope i was clear and have fun!

[shrinkthisviolet]

🍌🍐

🍌: In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

So this is a throwback, but I have never stopped thinking about this joke in the KK1 Stay Gold fic:

“Rock paper scissors for who has to talk to Lucille?” Sam suggested with a sheepish smile. Tory and Aisha glared at her, while Daniel just stared, and she sighed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

This is actually a reference to this moment in B99 (@ 2:02) 😂 it’s a very vague reference, but it’s what I was going for! It still cracks me up even if only one other person laughed (it was funny to me!!)

🍐: Is there anything in canon that you absolutely hate and love to fix in fics? A wrong choice made, a fuck-up in characterization, a misunderstanding never cleared up, a conversation never shown onscreen, etc…

Oooh the moments I could pick in the Flash…tho mostly I love fixing the s5 arc in various ways 😂 especially Nora being 28 yet inexplicably written as a teenager—I usually just make her 18 for convenience.

I also love writing Anthony LaRusso with a less annoying characterization—yeah he can have his annoying moments, as teen boys do, but that shouldn’t be his whole characterization. I’ve also never liked that canonically, the first time he learns karate is in s4. Thanks, I hate it!!

fruit fanfic ask game!

[sloaneflanagan]

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Sloane Tallulah Flanagan NICKNAME: Sloanie, S, Lolo (her siblings only) GENDER: Cisfemale SEXUALITY: Bisexual DATE OF BIRTH: August 3rd AGE: 31 years old PLACE OF BIRTH: Castlewellan, Ireland OCCUPATION: Struggling musician, receptionist at Wizard of Paws Animal Hospital

RELATIONS:

PARENTS: Cillian Flanagan (alive), Ava Flanagan (deceased) SIBLINGS: Rory Flanagan, youngest sibling tba CHILDREN: Daisy Ava Flanagan (3 years old) RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

APPEARANCE:

FACE CLAIM: Riley Keough NOTABLE FEATURES: Bright red hair and big blue doe-like eyes BODY MODIFICATIONS: Various ear piercings, nose pierced. Various tattoos. HEIGHT: 5'5

PERSONALITY:

ZODIAC: Leo MBTI: ESFP MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral CLASSICAL ELEMENT: Fire LOVE LANGUAGE: Words of affirmation and quality time TRAITS: Outspoken, flighty, adaptable, stubborn CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Peyton Sawyer (One Tree Hill), Daisy Jones (DJATS), Jo Wilson (Grey's Anatomy), Rosa Diaz (B99)

ABOUT: (tw: abuse, alcoholism, drugs, death)

Born in Castlewellan, Ireland, Sloane Flanagan was the eldest of the Flanagan siblings. A fiery spirit from birth, she quickly grew to despise life on the farm. Rebelling often, she loathed the work her father demanded of her and her siblings, always dreaming of escaping as soon as she was old enough. As soon as she could work, Sloane took on odd jobs, squirreling away money and feeling a deep calling for music. She kept herself busy, trying to stay out of her father's way, especially when his temper flared. At 18, Sloane finally packed her belongings and left Ireland, setting her sights on New York City. Determined not to look back, she threw herself into the life of a struggling artist, playing gigs and writing music whenever and wherever she could. However, the temptations of drugs and alcohol proved too strong, especially after the devastating loss of her mother. Returning to Ireland for her mother’s funeral, Sloane was overwhelmed with guilt and spiraled further into despair. Feeling aimless, she decided to follow her younger brother to Bearcreek, still unsure of her purpose. There, she worked various odd jobs while continuing to wrestle with her demons. A chance encounter led to a one-night stand that changed her life: a positive pregnancy test. The news was unexpected, but it was the catalyst Sloane needed to turn her life around. She sobered up and soon welcomed her daughter, Daisy Ava. Now, with Daisy at three years old, Sloane finds herself challenged by the demands of motherhood. Though she still writes songs and plays the occasional gig, she has found more stable employment as a receptionist at Wizard of Paws Animal Hospital. Her primary goal is to provide a good life for her daughter, though a sense of restlessness lingers within her.