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amoeganism · 3 months ago

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HIT BRAKE! sae itoshi

(Sae needs to practice his goals and you… driving)

~3.8k words, humor, fluff, angst if you grab a magnifying glass, use of soccer instead of football (i have too much pride to do that), theyre so polar opposite they unfortunately come full circle and match each others freak

Sae Itoshi returned to Japan with several new things under his belt:

The ability to speak spanish (although his grammar structure can use some help from time to time)

An insane growth spurt

Probably shell shock syndrome

And the scariest new update to a chronic Resting Bitch Face that you had the displeasure of seeing thrown your way when you accidentally ran over his ball driving home. Maybe this is why most Japanese people rely on public transport instead of using their licenses

TWO was the number of times you had failed your driver’s test. Yes, you could always use the bus or ask your friends for a ride, but college doesn’t start for another few weeks and you’re determined by pure stubbornness to be driver certified before starting school. You think you’re doing pretty good so far: no accidents, no being pulled over, no getting cursed, and no one loudly complaining about your skills (no one has trusted you to drive them). The only thing you had left to master was parallel parking.

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone.

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over.

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand.

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet.

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense.

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him.

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor.

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog.

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting.

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand.

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes.

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education.

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead.

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged.

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance.

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi.

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart.

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun.

He really can’t wait to come home.

#itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x reader #blue lock sae #blue lock itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #blue lock #blue lock fluff #this fic is my farm fed organic almond baby

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tallulah477 · 5 months ago

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Playing Dirty

Survive the Night Day 3: Drugged

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Reader, Toxic!Reader, Jealous!Reader, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Alien Genitalia, Drugging, P in V, Slight Thigh Riding, Oral (male receiving), Creampie, Knotting, Size Difference, Sex while one person is under the influence of drugs, Kuru/Queue Play, Belly Bulge, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Manipulation/Gaslighting, Toxic Relationship, Brief Body Shaming (Reader body shames another female out of jealously - not to her face, but in her thoughts), Name Calling (significant use of the word "bitch"), Forced Cheating (not on Reader - Neteyam is kinda dating someone else although you can argue they aren’t together yet), Reader is a straight up bitch and completely unhinged ngl, She is horrible

Word Count: 10.3K

A/N: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

Summary: Neteyam is supposed to be yours. Your mate. So who the hell does he think he is running around with someone else? You need to do something. In this game, you'll be the victor - not her. Even if that means you have to play a little dirty.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Kuru - Neural Queue

Kaltxì - Hello

Tanhì - Star, bioluminescent freckle

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Teylu - Beetle Larva, food and source of protein for the Na'vi

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

He’s starting to piss you off.

Nope. Wrong. Too late. You’re already pissed. Beyond pissed.

Who the hell does he think he is? Running around with another woman like that right in front of you. What does he even see in her anyway?

Iäle. What a stupid name.

She’s not even pretty. And her tits are way too small - nonexistent actually. Neteyam wants someone with a little more to give. Like yours, for example. Although, it’s not very hard to have more than her. You may be smaller, the comparison of a human to a Na’vi structure is very stark, but you’ve got a lot to compensate for that. Plenty of bounce and soft curves for him to play with and enjoy. You’ve seen him appreciating the view before, when your v-neck t-shirts or tank tops ‘accidentally’ ride a little too low to be considered modest and his pretty golden eyes follow the movement, tracing the curve of your breasts and lingering on the hardened peaks of your nipples where they poke through your top on the days you forget to wear a bra.

You’ve been forgetting a lot more recently. Wow. Crazy.

And since you’re smaller, your pussy is clearly going to be tighter too. You think about it all the time, taking Neteyam’s thick cock between your slick walls, feeling him spear you open and filling you up so much you hope you feel him in your throat. He needs someone who’s going to treat him right, squeezing around his length and working him up like it’s your sole purpose in life to be his personal living fleshlight. Iäle can’t give him that. She has ‘selfish lover’ written all over her. She’d probably just chase her own release, make him get off just to say she did and then that’s it. You, on the other hand… you would milk him dry - pulling orgasm after orgasm from his gorgeous muscular body like he deserves until he’s a twitching and overstimulated mess.

You want to see it so bad - the way his spent cock would shrink and retract back into its sheath in protection from your oh-so-giving hands and mouth and pussy. You want to see the goofy and satisfied smirk on his face as he shivers from the aftershocks, just like the one he gives you when you race through the forest and he pretends like you can keep up with him only to completely demolish you in the final stretch.

Only this one would be better, with his amber eyes so dazed and hazy and not able to focus on anything at all. You’d fuck him so good you think there might even be drool trailing down his cheek from the corner of his mouth, visual proof of a job well done.

The point is you have more than her. Would be a million times better than her. Duh.

You see it clear as day every time you close your eyes. You and him taking the next step and moving from just best friends forever to mates - a bond stronger than forever, an eternity bonded together in an unbreakable connection that can never be severed. You’d be his and he’d be yours. Permanently. You know Eywa would agree with you. You may not have your own kuru, but she would find a way to unite you both.

And if she won’t. You will.

So now here’s the riddle: If you see what the future will be every time you close your eyes, then why the fuck is it that when you open them right now… he’s with her.

Smiling at her, holding her hand, their tails flicking behind them and occasionally brushing against each other as they walk towards you.

Bitterly, you close your eyes and open them again. Nope, still there. You do it again. Still here and closer. You do it again and again, rapid frustrated blinks make your eyelashes flutter as you hope that the next one will show just him. That she will disappear and cease to exist, stop even breathing the same air as him, but she never does. The quick blinks just serve to tire your eyes and make the couple flicker in and out of sight, getting closer and closer to you with each blink.

“Kaltxì, tanhì.” Neteyam says with a grin. “What’s wrong with you? Something in your eye?”

Iäle smiles at you too, sending you a small wave with the hand not currently on trial and being threatened to be cut off for touching what’s rightfully yours. “Kaltxì, y/n,”

You force a bright smile on your face as you look up at them. “Hi, you two! No, yeah. Just something in my eye, I guess. It’s out now though,” You eye them suspiciously, gaze unable to help but fall to where their hands are still joined together. “Where are you off to?”

“We were going to head to the river,” Iäle responds, and you just barely hold off a wince from how her voice grates on your ears. How can Neteyam stand to hear her speak without wanting to pluck out his own eardrums? “There’s a spot there that’s really nice that has a view of the whole length of the water.” You let out a small hum of acknowledgement instead of rolling your eyes the way you want to. “But Mo’at has called for me. She was going to prepare the paints for tonight’s celebration, but some of the little ones have become ill and she needs to tend to them, so the task falls to me, I guess.”

“Aw, too bad,”

Iäle shrugs, small smile still present on her lips. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Anything I can do to help is an honor,”

Ugh, spare me.

“Okay, well, I’ll be heading over there now,” She says, finally. To your relief she lets go of Neteyam’s hand, but your perceptive gaze doesn’t miss the way she squeezes it as she does. Nor do you miss the way Neteyam grins at her in response. “I’ll see you both tonight at the celebration!”

“Byeee,” You respond. Neteyam doesn’t look at you in confusion or pinch his lips together at your tone, so you suppose you were successful at making it sound friendly.

Your eyes follow Iäle as she heads back towards the center of the village, disappearing behind the group of training warriors on her way to the healer’s tent. As soon as she’s out of sight, Neteyam turns to you and crosses his arms across his chest. Your eyes zero in on the corded muscle of his arms, pulling taut as they flex with his movement, but your ogling opportunity is cut short when you spot the knowing look on his face as he stares down at you.

“What?”

“Go on,” He prompts. “Say what you’re going to say.”

“How do you know I was going to say anything?” You reply, sass heavy in your voice. Neteyam just raises a hairless brow in response. “You two seem close.”

“There it is,”

“I’m just stating a fact,”

Neteyam sighs. “I like her. That’s what happens when you like someone,”

“Is that right? Then maybe you should hold my hand more often,” You grumble, turning on your heel to walk back towards the lab. He’s quick to follow you just like you knew he would.

“I hold your hand all the time,”

“Is that right?” You repeat.

“Y/n,”

You stop suddenly and turn to look back at him. He towers over you like this, so close that if you just took a step closer you would be face to face with the little (yeah fucking right) funzone hidden safely underneath his loincloth. You don’t, instead choosing to crane your neck back to look up at his face, your own brows furrowed as you snap your fingers together twice and point down towards the ground.

“Really?” He asks, exasperated. Your only response is another rapid round of snaps and an aggressive point downwards.

Watching Neteyam crouch down in front of you at your beck and call makes heat spark in your core. He’s such a good boy - would be such a good, good boy for you if he could just get his head out of his ass. In the crouch he’s closer to your height, still taller but not so much so that you're craning your neck to see his face, and he holds your gaze as you glower at him.

“Serious time now,” You say. “Eyes on me.”

“They already are,” He shoots back, and grins in satisfaction at your glare. “Fine. Yes, ma’am,”

And Eywa, it’s like he’s trying to get you to cream your pants saying it like that.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–hey!” You shout, watching as his amber eyes roll upwards at your words. “I. Do. Not. Like. Her. I don’t trust her.”

“So you say, but I still don’t know why–”

“I have my suspicions, Teyam. I don’t trust her intentions with you.” Like intending to take you away from me when you’re MINE. “She’s no good.”

“Why is she no good?”

Cause I said so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Neteyam sighs again, eyes softening as he looks down at your serious face. “Of course I trust you, tanhì,”

“Then trust me now,” You say, voice soft with sympathy as your hand reaches out to caress his arm. His big and muscle packed toned arm. “She’s going to do something to hurt you.”

You want to grind your teeth into dust at the way Neteyam clearly wants to argue with you, but the corner of his mouth just lifts into a pacifying smile. “I know you’re looking out for me. I promise I’ll be careful,”

Liar.

“You’re such a good friend,”

Fucking ouch.

Your eye twitches at the words, a grimacing smile pulling at your own lips. “The best friend! Of course,”

“Hm,”

He stands up from his crouch and you turn to resume your walk back towards the lab. Neteyam is a gentleman through and through, so even though he needs to go home and prepare for tonight’s festivities, he walks you home to make sure you're safe. He would do it for anyone - his daddy raised him right like that. But it makes you feel all warm and gooey inside to think that he would only do it for you. You’re his best friend, his future mate, and it’s his job to keep you safe from anything and everything that might try to hurt you. He loves you. You smile smugly at the thought. Neteyam, the mighty warrior - your own personal protector.

It’s mighty dangerous in the Pandoran forest for a human. Anything could happen. You could break your mask and die of suffocation in a matter of minutes. A thanator could lunge from the dense treeline and gobble you up like you were no more than a midday snack. You could trip and twist your ankle, maybe even sprain it, and Neteyam would have to pick you up in his strong arms that could toss you around like a ragdoll if he wanted to and carry you all the way back to the lab, cradled against him for safety.

Hm.

You yelp as you quickly catch the toe of your sneaker on the slightly uneven ground on your next step, purposefully throwing yourself onto the ground with a pained gasp as you clutch at your ankle.

“Shit!” Neteyam curses, crouching down and looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Ow,” You whine, hands still wrapped protectively over your ‘injured’ ankle. “Teyam, it hurts!”

He studies your ankle carefully, his hand reaching out to brush gently across the soft skin to check for tenderness or swelling.

“OW!” You squeal, tears welling up in your eyes at the imaginary pain.

“Okay, okay,” Neteyam relents, pulling back his hand so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you further. “It doesn’t look broken, but we should probably still get it looked at.”

“No,” You say, voice wobbling as your lower lip trembles. “No, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“Tanhì, it’s their job. We need to make sure its not–”

“No,” You interrupt. No way. The nurse would take one look at your ankle and bitch you out for wasting her time. No thank you. “It’s fine. I promise. Just twisted and hurts right now. But…”

Neteyam looks unsure. “But what?”

You can’t help how your eyelashes flutter at him. “Can you carry me? I don’t think I can walk right now,”

“Of course, tanhì,”

He picks you up bridal style, which is fitting considering you’ll be his bride one day, and effortlessly cradles you against his chest. You tilt your head to the side, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up at him with a small smile and a sweet ‘Thank you, Teyam,’ on your lips. His chest is hard and warm against your ear as it presses against his skin, and you wish that you didn’t have to wear this stupid mask to survive outside so you could press your entire face into the solid wall of muscle and inhale his scent.

The walk back to the lab nearly puts you to sleep with how comfortable you are against him. His steps are careful and smooth, barely jostling you at all and making it feel more like a gentle rocking as it soothes you into a peaceful state. You haven’t felt this calm in a long time. Neteyam has been stressing you out - courting that bitch and parading her around right in front of you. You don’t know why he’s trying to make you jealous, but it’s making you more angry than anything else. This is making up for it though. You think you could forgive his little games and lapse in judgment if he just carries you around pressed against his body a little bit each day.

He’d have to do other things too, of course. But this would be a start.

He carries you through the airlock, taking your mask from you and placing it with the others along the attached shelf before grabbing a carbon mask for himself all without letting you touch the ground. He moves with a flawless confidence as he loops the mask around his neck, feet barely pausing in their journey as he takes you all the way up to your room. It’s like something out of your dreams when he lays you on your bed, and for a couple blissful seconds you have the soft mattress at your back and Neteyam’s large hulking figure overtop you just like it’s always meant to be. You wish that he would kneel down on it too, hold himself over you as he sweeps his pretty golden eyes along your sprawled out frame. You’d stretch out even more, putting the entire length of your body on display for him, maybe even let out a small enticing moan just to give him a little show - a little taste at what was to come.

But he’s off the bed and kneeling at your side all too soon, fingers reaching out again to brush against your ankle in concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks. “I can still get Jane to come look at it.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. Just twinged it a bit, that’s all. Jane would just get pissed we wasted her time,”

“If you’re sure,”

“I am,” You insist. “Thank you though, Teyam. For carrying me. You’re really strong.”

Neteyam hums, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am,”

He stands up, taking a breath from his mask, and you can tell he’s gearing up to leave. The selfish part of you doesn’t want him to. He should be around you all the time. The thought of leaving your side shouldn’t even pop into his head. And if he has to, if he really has no other choice, you should see pain burning in his amber eyes - the feeling of sorrow so overwhelming that he feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest just to have to leave you for a moment to go on a hunt or use the bathroom.

Annoyance sparks when you don’t see that pain evident in his face. He looks fine. He’s getting ready to leave you, while you’re hurt, and he’s fine.

“You’re coming to the celebration tonight, right?” He asks when he pulls the mask away, and you plant another sickly sweet smile on your face in response.

“Yeah! I’m gonna be your plus one, of course,”

“Yeah, okay,” Neteyam chuckles. “I’m going to head back. I have some things I have to do before tonight, but I’ll be back to come get you in case you’re still having ankle pain.”

“Sounds good! Thank you, mighty warrior,”

He smirks at the nickname, but doesn’t reply. And then he’s walking out of your room, beautiful expanse of back curving as he ducks under the doorframe, tail flicking out lazily behind him, and wow…

You hate to watch him go, but love to watch him leave.

The more you think about it, the more you determine that no - you’re not going to stand for this nonsense anymore.

This little game has been going on for far too long, and it’s about time that this victor claims her prize. That doesn’t mean you have to play by the rules though.

Besides, what fun is a game without playing a little dirty?

The people in the lab are more than helpful without even realizing it. You listen, enraptured, as they tell you about a new plant discovered just off the side of the Hallelujah Mountains. It’s a rare find, and they tell you that the effects when ingested are shockingly similar to some other drugs found on Earth.

Despite the similarities to some not-so-nice Earth drugs, the scientists in the lab are excited about it.

“Mo’at says it might be useful for the children that have been sick recently. They’ll be groggy and probably not remember anything, but it will force their bodies to relax and recover instead of them wasting energy being uncomfortable or in pain,” One of them tells you, opening the small jar of powered plant. “It’s potent as a powder so it only takes a small amount to be effective.”

Frankly you don’t know why they’re telling you all this. You don’t have anything to do with the science side of anything here, but you listen with rapt attention as they unknowingly tell you the answer to all your problems. You can practically see the little invisible label on the side of the jar now:

Mating Powder for the Hardheaded Na’vi

Side effects may include dizziness, confusion, mental fog, memory loss, or unconsciousness.

Warning: For best effects, keep bitches named Iäle away from the consumer so that the provider may have the night of her life that she deserves.

“Oh, how intriguing,” You tell them. “Very interesting indeed.”

Yeah. Sounds pretty damn perfect.

You wait until everyone goes to dinner before sneaking back into the lab. They said the powder is potent, just a little bit needed to have the effect on the Na’vi children, so you think that amount plus a little extra should do the job for your stubborn Na’vi male. Slipping some into a small plastic baggie you steal from one of the tables is easy enough, and you're in and out of the lab with no one the wiser to the small little pouch of wish granting power stashed safely in your pocket.

By the time Neteyam arrives back at the lab, the baggie is already hidden away out of sight, tucked between your breast and the cup of your bra. You don’t want to wear one, it would be so much better to tease Neteyam with the sight of your unbound tits through the thin material of your pretty party dress. But alas, you’ve also chosen to forego panties and you need a place to keep the baggie. So bra it is.

You’ve made sure it’s at least a sexy lacy one though. You’re gonna get fucked in it tonight, you’re sure of it.

“What do you think?” You ask him, twirling in your spot and posing to give him a little show of the outfit. “You like?”

Neteyam nods. “Yes, you look beautiful, tanhì. You always do,”

“Do you think I look sexy?”

The slight flush visible on Neteyam’s cheeks is confirmation enough despite his silence.

“Mate worthy, one might say?” You continue, and this time his hairless brows shoot up.

“Mate? Are you searching for a mate?”

You hear it in his voice. The jealousy. It’s very subtle, barely even noticeable - most people wouldn't have even caught onto it. But you’re smart, you’re brain in tune with all things Neteyam and Neteyam-like, so all you need is the smallest hint and you can tell it’s there. You just barely hold off a smirk, instead choosing to stare at him with wide eyes. “Jealous?”

“No, I just didn’t know you were interested in finding one. Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe,”

Neteyam lets out a harsh rush of air that you think could be a laugh. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Eywa, you made this man so… beautiful.

“Nope,” You smirk, coyly. “Guess you’re just gonna have to wait and find out.”

The walk back to the village is a slow one. You need to be gentle on your ankle, it’s still pretty tender after your fall earlier after all. Plus the longer alone time with Neteyam is an added benefit. You’re going to have to see her at this celebration, so you’re going to need a little bit of extra incentive to get through it.

By the time you make it to the village’s center, The People are dancing. A flurry of bodies flowing and twisting to the steady beat of the song take up most of the site. The fire sparks at the center of it all, bright and sparkling as it shoots out crackles that arch over top the heads of the dancing Na’vi. There’s people crouched or sitting along the outer ring of the celebration, indulging in food and drink rather than dance and you nudge Neteyam’s thigh, smiling as you point to a small opening of the circle just perfect for the two of you to claim as your own.

This is how it’s supposed to be - just you and Neteyam enjoying the pleasures Pandora has to offer, side by side like a true mated pair.

But the moment you sit down on the seating log, your irritation floods your content peace of mind. She’s here.

She’s got such an attitude about her, pushing her way through the barely there space of the dancing clan and the resting members in the outer circle. What makes her think she’s good enough to make that space for herself? Just go around like a normal person.

When Iäle makes it in front of you, you notice she only has one swoasey in each hand.

“Kaltxì,” She smiles, handing one of the cups to Neteyam. She keeps the other one in her hand though, curling her now free hand around the rounded shape to cradle it. “Y/n, I thought to bring you one but I wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol as a human, but you can have this one if you want.”

This fucking bitch. How disrespectful.

“Oh,” You say, and if you add a little more disappointment and sadness into your voice than you actually feel, that’s your business. “That’s okay. I’ll just go get my own.”

“I’ll go get you one, tanhì,”

“No,” You insist. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

You ignore Neteyam’s responding frown (and Iäle completely) as you make your way around the outside of the edges of the gathering. Your heart is pounding in your chest, anger boiling there like a pool of molten lava even as you try to keep your features neutral and smile at the Na’vi you pass. You’ve had enough - enough of this. You’re not going to let her embarrass you anymore.

Wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol - fuck off.

The drink that finds its way into your hand is just as big as the ones Neteyam and Iäle are holding. It’s too much alcohol for you, that’s true, but fuck her for saying it out loud like your size is an insult. You take a sip from the cup, face twisting in disgust as a harsh shiver rocks your body at the taste. Gross, but much needed.

Your eyes flicker around, searching for wandering eyes as you reach your fingers into your bra. The small baggie is still there and the opening pulls apart easily with a quick swipe of your thumb and pointer finger. Finding no prying eyes, you dump the contents into the cup. The powder dissolves into the drink almost as soon as it touches the liquid, and by the time you’ve shoved the empty baggie back into its hidey spot and swirled the cup a little in your palm, all remaining evidence of what you’ve just done have disappeared completely.

When you return to the seating log you claimed, Neteyam and Iäle are still there too, and it seems they’ve found some food while you were gone. They’ve switched seats too - Neteyam taking up crouching facing the seats while Iäle has taken the space he was in when you left, leaving you to sit next to the absolute eye-roll of a Na’vi on the log.

“Here, tanhì,” Neteyam says, handing you a small leaf holding some cooked teylu. You thank him with a pretty smile, pleased with the small declarations of loyalty he has shown for you despite his games. If he’s going to try to make you jealous, at least he’s man enough to still take care of you while he plays around.

“Y/n,” Iäle says as she bites off a piece of her own teylu. “I hope I didn’t offend you earlier by not getting you a drink. That wasn’t my intention. I just thought—”

“No, it’s okay,” The forced brightness in your voice makes you want to throw up. “Of course it’s okay. No harm done.”

And you wish you could smack her responding smile off her face.

Iäle’s voice grates on your nerves as she speaks, telling you both about her afternoon of painstakingly mixing together the paints for the newly passed warriors to wear. You pretend to sip at your drink throughout dinner, listening with rapt attention when Neteyam talks about how the day’s training session went and then with barely concealed boredom when Iäle mentions the sickness plaguing a few of the kids.

“Mo’at thinks they should be well enough in a few days. Especially with the new medicine we are trying out to help keep them calm and rested as they recover.”

“That’s good,” Neteyam says and you quickly nod in ecstatic agreement when his eyes flick over to you.

He’s done his first drink, the swoasey empty on the ground beside him, so you feign one last sip of your own before shoving it in his direction.

“Teyam, you wanna finish it for me? Guess it was a little too much for me to handle after all,”

“Oh, okay,” Netayam says, taking the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thanks, tanhì.”

You watch in barely contained satisfaction as he takes a few large gulps of the drugged drink. You wonder how long it will take for it to start affecting him. It can’t be long, maybe just enough time to make up some excuse to leave and then make it back to the lab before it hits. And you can’t be around people when it happens. Especially not her.

It’s just another confirmation that Eywa wants you and Neteyam to be together when another of Mo’at’s healers-in-training runs up and taps Iäle’s shoulder. Mo’at is busy with the celebration - the Tsahìk is needed to give her speech and blessing for the new warriors - but a few of the little ones are fretful and need an experienced healer’s attention. There are stars in your eyes as you watch Iäle solemnly get up from her seat and wave goodbye to you and Neteyam. You can tell she doesn’t want to leave, wants to stick around and possibly try to dance with your man, but luck happens to be on your side and now you have him all to yourself.

You’re almost sad you can’t stay and enjoy the celebration as a couple. But there’s no rush. After today, he’ll be yours forever and every celebration from now on will be spent with you in his arms as his girl.

Neteyam gulps down the rest of the alcohol as he shoves the last bite of teylu in his mouth, and you decide that that’s your sign to move this night along.

“Teyam,” You whine, eyes wide as you reach down to gently touch your ‘injured’ ankle. “My ankle is starting to hurt again.”

Neteyam’s hairless brows furrow in worry, eyes shooting down to your ankle for just a second before meeting your own again. “You should really see Jane so she can make sure it’s nothing serious,”

“It’s fine,” You say. “Just too much walking on it too quickly I guess. Can you carry me home?”

Instead of answering, Neteyam licks his fingers clean and moves the two empty cups against the log so they’re out of people’s way before scooting around so that his back is to you. You happily wrap yourself around him, arms locked around his neck while his big hands catch your thighs as you jump to wrap your legs around his torso.

You dig your face into his back as he walks, Neteyam hissing lightly as the cold glass of your mask presses into his spine. You ignore him though, instead enjoying the feeling of his muscles shifting against your front as you press yourself harder against his sturdy frame. Your dress is too long and not being a team player right now - because if it was, it would be hanging differently. As it is, the little excess fabric it has is settling between your thighs and acting as a barrier between your bare pussy and Neteyam’s sculpted back.

Which is a problem, obviously, because Neteyam’s back muscles should be massaging against your clit right about now.

Neteyam makes it about three-fourths of the way back to the lab before the drug starts to hit him. He stops suddenly mid-stride, swaying slightly as one hand drops its grip on your thigh to press against the side of his head.

“Teyam?” You say, voice soft and full of concern. Oh nooooo, what could possibly be wrong? “You okay?”

“Yes,” He grumbles, breathing coming out just a little bit shaky. “Just dizzy.”

“Maybe you had too much alcohol. Let’s hurry up and get back and you can lay down in my bed.”

You watch as he shakes his head as if to clear it, hand coming back down to hold your thigh as he forces himself to continue the rest of the journey. But once the drug starts to take effect on your large Na’vi, it shows no mercy as it wraps him tighter under its powerful grip. His first dizzy sway soon turns into another, and another.

“Neteyam!” You shout, your grip around his neck tightening as you brace yourself against him when he stumbles forward.

“S-sorry,” He gasps, hands trying to hold you steady as he rights himself. “Sorry, tanhì. Sorry. I-I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It’s okay,” You soothe, gently reaching up to brush your hand across his damp forehead and swiping a few braids out of his face. “Just a little farther and you can rest.”

The last trek of the walk takes significantly longer than it should have and Neteyam is not doing well by any means. His breathing is harsh now, nearly panting as he struggles to fight off the nearly constant dizziness that he’s feeling. His skin is hot to the touch, sweaty as he stumbles through the Pandoran forest, mumbling obscenities to himself in between nearly incoherent sentences as he pushes forward. You feel a little bad seeing him this way. You love him and you would never want him to suffer, but he brought this on himself.

When another one of his stumbles nearly throws you from his back entirely, you think that maybe you gave him a bit too much. Maybe you should also get off of his back since it would probably be easier for him to walk without your additional weight on him and having to make sure you don’t fall off every five seconds, but that would mean not feeling the stretch and shift of his hard muscles under your body and, well… you never said you weren’t selfish.

“I was thinking,” You start, voice low in his ear as your hand once again finds the expanse of his forehead, pressing against it to help keep his head up. “We didn’t see where Iäle got the drink from. Maybe she did something to it.”

“W-what?” Neteyam whispers, brow scrunching under your touch.

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. You’re not even sure if he’s really going to remember this all anyway, but you smile to yourself regardless, pleased at the seed of doubt you’ve planted.

The door to the lab is just in sight when Neteyam collapses for the first time. It’s a testament to how strong the Na’vi are, truly, because you know that you gave him a hell of a dose and he was still able to make it all the way back from the village before his body completely gave up on him. You do fly off his back this time when he goes down, landing heavily on your side as he crumples beside you.

He’s not in his right mind now, so you don’t have to worry about keeping up pretenses with your imaginary injury. Instead, you scramble up, grabbing hold of his arm and urging him to stand back on his feet again. “Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He collapses again at the door, his body falling into the thick metal of the airlock with a loud bang, and you let out a startled gasp at the sight of his head nearly colliding against it too. Fuck, that would have sucked. You want him lax and vulnerable, susceptible to your desires as you guide you both towards becoming one - you don’t want him knocked the fuck out by taking an accidental blow to the head.

He mumbles something when you help him up again, and even in his disoriented state he’s still a gentleman as he tries his best not to put too much of his weight on you. Your hand smacks against the open button, ushering Neteyam inside the chamber as it depressurizes from the carbon filled Pandoran air to breathable oxygen. Neteyam takes a knee to rest as you pause next to the mask station, replacing your mask and pack on the shelf and grabbing a carbon mask for Neteyam. You loop the carbon mask around your own neck, worried that taking the time to try to fit it around Neteyam’s might mean the difference between making it to your bedroom and dealing with a passed out Na’vi in the middle of the hallway.

“Come on, baby,” You say, cupping his cheek and tilting his head towards you. His big amber eyes are glazed over. You think they look so beautiful.

It seems like forever by the time you finally make it into your bedroom. Neteyam collapses on the bed, large body taking up the entirety of the mattress as he sprawls out, legs dangling off the edge. You pull the carbon mask from around your neck, smiling softly down at Neteyam as you place the mask over his parted mouth. Your hand slips underneath the back of his head as you try to lift it up. It’s heavy in your hold, and Neteyam does nothing to help you as you try to work the strap of the mask underneath it. It takes some adjusting, but a brief moment of perseverance and you’re able to get it under and looped around his neck.

The mask itself is fogged up with Neteyam’s quick breathing and, after a few seconds, you pull it off and rest it on his sternum.

“I feel heavy,” Neteyam slurs, golden eyes closing for just a second before opening back up, but they’re still unfocused - seeing things, but maybe not actually seeing things.

“I know, baby. I know,” You coo, a slight pout pulling at your lips as you squeeze reassuringly at his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. I’m here.”

You know the drug is supposed to put him to sleep, and that’s fine - that’s the goal actually - eventually. But it’s not ideal for right now. Things have to happen first. And with the way Neteyam is looking… well, you don’t know how much time you have left so you need to work fast.

You climb on the bed, tossing one of your legs over Neteyam’s thighs so you can straddle it and fuck. Oh God, fuuuuckkk. The feeling of his muscular thigh against your bare pussy already makes you want to cum. You’re so wet - have been for a majority of the walk back from having Neteyam’s irresistible body pressed against yours for so long, his muscles teasing their strength as they ripple under his skin. His thigh is no different. Just a block of hard, solid, corded muscle that presses just perfectly against your throbbing clit.

You allow yourself one experimental rock, dragging the swollen bundle of nerves across his skin. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, hands subconsciously gripping onto his waist to hold him close. You hear Neteyam let out a noise similar to a hum at the movement, too, and the sound shoots straight to your core.

“Fuck,” You whimper. Get it together. You need to focus on the prize.

You force your hips to stay still and move your hands inwards, slowly caressing the flat, toned plane of his stomach as you go before tracing the bottom of Neteyam’s cummerbund with the tips of your fingers.

“Let’s get you comfortable, okay?” You say, softly. “So you can relax.”

Perhaps you should have thought this through a little more. Neteyam’s laying down and the cummerbund ties at the back, so it's another game of ‘shove your hands under the massive amount of deadweight and see if you can fanegal your way around it’. You do, of course. You're persistent in getting what you want. But it takes longer than you would have liked and more effort than you wanted to give, especially given that you have your drenched pussy pressed against his thigh right now and you want nothing more than to hump him like a thanator in heat.

But when it’s finally off, it’s worth it to see that little extra strip of skin. You can’t wait to trace every single one of those exposed bioluminescent freckles scattered around his waist with your tongue.

“So much better, huh?” You say, tossing the cummerbund to the floor. “Not as restricting.”

Your hands find the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your pretty lacy bra as your dress joins Neteyam’s cummerbund on the floor. Neteyam’s hazy eyes do their best to follow your movements, and even though the confusion you see in them, they can’t leave the sight of your scantily clad body.

A satisfied smirk pulls at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your hands against his belly as the tops of your arms push your breasts together. The movement makes your clit brush against Neteyam’s thigh again, and you want to whine, want to do it again and again and again until you drench his gorgeous blue skin in your juices. But you’re caught in his gaze as his large golden eyes track your movement, unable to help tracing the curves despite his current state.

Slowly, your hands drag down his belly, curving to his sides and messaging his hips for a moment before your fingers find the knot at the side of his loincloth.

“Let’s get this off too,” You whisper. The knot stands no chance against your prying fingers and comes apart easily with just a few flicks and pulls.

It feels like unwrapping a present as you pull the loincloth from Neteyam’s hips. You’ve seen down there before. The Na’vi aren’t as body conscious as humans are. Plus he’s your best friend, and there’s no need for modesty between friends. If you’ve taken a few extra peeks while he’s changing or bathing then that’s your business, just like you’ve caught him returning the favor more than a few times.

But it still feels brand new as you stare at the flat space between his thighs. Excitement courses through your veins at the sight of it, your mouth watering at the thought that soon it’s gonna be glistening and puffy and parting at the center to make way for the real prize to come out.

“Tanhì,” Neteyam mumbles, but you’re quick to shush him.

“Just relax, Teyam,” It hurts to pull your pussy from his thigh, but you have something more important to sit on soon. You just need to coax it out first. “Just feel.”

You settle between his legs on your stomach, hands pressing against his inner thighs and urging them apart a little further to give you better access to his center. You bite your lip to hide your smile, running a teasing finger along the slit before your lips replace your finger with a gentle kiss.

The first drag of your tongue along his slit already has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve never gotten to do this before. You probably could have had other Na’vi lovers before if you really wanted to. You’re gorgeous and Neteyam isn’t the only sexy blue alien who you’ve caught staring at your assets before. But why would you ever want anyone else when you have your mighty warrior right here in front of you. Finally.

Neteyam grunts above you as you lick at him, long and thorough swipes of your tongue across the slit, again and again, laving the area and coating it in your saliva until you taste the first signs of his arousal seeping from inside. You hum as the first bit of slick touches your tongue, coating your tastebuds and making your thighs clench together in pleasure. Your thumbs press into either side of the slit, pulling it apart slightly so your tongue can push in deeper, desperate for more of Neteyam’s delicious taste.

Your tongue is relentless as you eat at him and you know that if he had control of his body, his hips would be canting up towards your face. You can picture it now - how next time will be. You’ll be between his legs again, mouth teasing at the flat alien space he has between his legs as you coax his cock out further and further out of its protective sheath with each swipe of your tongue. He’d have one hand clutching at your sheets, fisting them so hard you would probably have rips in them from how hard his fingers would dig into it. His other hand would be on the back of your head, large palm cradling the entirety of it as he presses you harder against him, moaning for you to lick faster, harder, deeper. You wonder how sensitive this part of him is. He’s moaning so much already, quiet punched out sounds that serve to urge you on, and you wonder how much louder he would be if he wasn’t so tired and drugged up.

The taste of his slick makes your pussy gush, the more you lap up the more your body feels like it's on fire. You’ve heard about the Na’vi having something in their slick that’s intoxicating - your head feels fuzzy, feels good, like you're levitating on air and Neteyam is the only focal point you can see. And when you feel the first poke of Neteyam’s cock peeking through the now puffy and soaking opening of his slit, your hips can’t help the way they grind into the mattress.

You’re quick to wrap your lips around the protruding head, suckling gently at the exposed tip as your thumbs continue to rub soothingly up and down the sides of the now open slit, using the slick there to help the glide. Neteyam grunts at the feel of your lips around his cock, and he has just enough movement of his body left to be able to give a slight arch as you suck a bit harder.

“Y/n,” He groans, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like that makes you want to scream.

That’s right, baby. Say my name.

It’s a blissful experience - Neteyam’s cock slowly filling your mouth more and more as it emerges from its sheath. Another inch and then another, each new barb and bump sliding across your tongue until the very tip of it hits the back of your throat. Despite him not being able to move much, you pin his hips down anyway - a dual combination of your own intense desire for him mixed with the increased need brought on by whatever is in his slick.

His cock feels so good in your mouth, the texture along his length dragging against your tongue as the cone shaped tip of his cock bumps the inside of your cheek. You adjust again, opening your throat and forcing your head downwards. You gag when his cock breaches your airway, sputtering and choking yourself on him as you do your best to take him in. Fuck, he’s so big. You can’t breathe, can’t even think he’s so big, but you don’t want to move away. You’ve wanted this for so long so if you have to ruin your throat a little bit to make it happen, then so be it.

The need for air cuts your plan short, and it takes the knowledge that this isn’t the last time you’ll be able to do this to allow yourself to pull off. Neteyam’s cock is shiny and glorious as you free it and allow it to slap against his lower belly. The base of his cock is the same gorgeous pattern of blue stripes that adorn the rest of his body, littered with bumps and barbs and tiny bioluminescent freckles that you know are going to feel magical inside of you. The tip is a pretty lavender color, the colors blending together almost artfully as it spreads towards the slight cone shaped head. Finally being able to look at it properly has you feeling feral, and you can’t resist the temptation to give one last sloppy lick along the entire length of it, the tip of your tongue gently teasing the ridges on the underside of the head before pulling away for good.

Neteyam’s panting is matching yours - deep, heavy, and quick as you both try to catch your breath. You climb up his body and straddle his waist. Your fingers are still a little wet from his slick as you cup his face and tilt it up, bringing his lips in alignment with yours. You press your own against his and you feel so small compared to him. His lips are twice the size yours are and wonder what it would feel like if the positions were reversed right now. You think you would burst into a ball of flames if you had him on top of you like this - his large, heavy body covering you completely and pressing you into your own mattress. Your tongue slides between his lips and glides against his own, and you moan at the rough feel of it.

“Next time we do this,” You murmur against his lips. “I want you to eat my pussy, okay?” You pull back, thumb caressing his bottom lip briefly before you bring the carbon mask back up to his mouth. “Wanna feel what that textured tongue of yours feels like.”

Neteyam gulps down the carbon like it's the only air he’s ever gotten, hazy golden eyes locked on yours as you scoot your hips back without ever breaking eye contact. Your ass meets his cock and you greedily drag your pussy along the length as you let him sip from the mask. The bumps along his length feel like heaven against your drenched cunt, the additional texture so foreign and blissful on your swollen clit.

When you deemed he’s had enough, you drop the mask back on his chest and place a steadying hand on his stomach. Your other hand reaches behind you, guiding his cock up until the tip of it is nestled against your entrance.

“Fuck,” You giggle, nervously. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. You’re ready, you’re so so ready. He just feels so big. He is big. He’s going to stretch you out so much. His cock is going to bully its way into your guts and you’re going to feel so full. The very thought of it makes you as terrified as it does excited. Maybe there will even be a bulge. You want to know - you want to know so badly.

With a deep breath, you start to lower yourself down on him. The stretch as the head of his cock penetrates your slick walls has you gasping. Fuck, it feels so intense, so much as his thick girth spears you open. You’re so wet, so ready for him, and the added slick from his slit and your saliva still coats his cock so the slide is as easy as it ever could be. The pressure is there as you bear down on him harder, desperate to feel more of him inside you, but to your complete shock, there is little actual pain.

The barbs decorating his length scrape deliciously against your insides, dragging across your sensitive walls and pressing into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had. You let out a relieved laugh when you finally fit in all that you can take. You’re so full, so amazingly full that you feel like you want to cry. There is a bulge - you can see it clear as day, pressing from the inside of your belly, and your hand caresses the bulge lovingly.

That’s your mate’s cock inside of you.

Finally.

When you look back up at Neteyam, you see that his eyes are rolled back in pleasure, just the bottom of his golden irises and his blown pupils are visible underneath his hooded eyes.

“Feel so good inside me, Teyam,” You whisper, and you think the slight grunt he lets out at your words is him agreeing. “So, so good.”

His cock feels even better when your hips start to move, slowly raising up until only the tip is left inside you before sliding back down, your own pussy becoming its new protective sheath. You keep it safe inside you, cradled and protected within the loving hug of your slick walls as you ride him faster. Harder. Each push of his cock inside you feels like you're being blessed. You’ve been a good girl, you’ve earned this. And now, despite you having to play a little dirty to get to this point, your efforts are being rewarded. Neteyam is your god and you’ll worship the ground he walks on until the day you die. And from this day forward, he’ll worship you in return.

The bulge in your belly disappears and reappears with each movement of your hips, and your clit throbs, pulsing with need and begging for you to give it some attention. You don’t want your own fingers. You’ve had more than enough of your own touch over the years. Your eyes land on Neteyam’s hand still lying limp next to him. His long fingers are curled slightly against the bed, his best attempt at clutching the sheets just like you know he would be now if he could, and you’ve imagined those fingers playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves more times than you can count.

Your hand goes to reach for it, set on feeling Neteyam’s beautiful fingers between your thighs even if you have to guide his movements yourself. But then your eyes fall on the carefully maintained braid lying just a few inches next to that hand and your priorities change.

Yes.

He’s your mate. He’s yours. You deserve this. You get to touch it.

Your hips slow to a careful grind as your fingers clasp gently around the bottom of his kuru. It feels good in your hand, the hair covering the neural queue feels glossy and perfect against your palm. A small smile creeps onto your lips as you flip open the very tip of it, and you stare greedily as the hair falls away revealing the bright pink wiggling extensions of Neteyam’s nervous system.

From behind the wriggling tendrils, you see Neteyam’s head shift towards you again, his golden eyes hooded and a little bit teary from pleasure as he watches you hold onto the most sacred part of him.

“You’re mine, okay?” You tell him. “Only mine. Forever.”

To seal your words, you bring the pretty pink tendrils to your lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to them before caressing them with the flat of your tongue. You watch Neteyam react to the feel of your tongue licking against them. His pupils blow out more than you ever thought was possible, black overtaking his eyes and leaving only the thinnest band of gold around the edges. The sounds leaving his mouth now make your pussy clench around him tighter, and you’re again cursing the fact that you’ve even had to do this because they could be louder. He could be screaming right now, but he can’t because of the stupid drugs hold on him.

Next time, y/n. Next time, you have to remind yourself, or you think you might go mad.

You lick them again, already obsessed with the way they feel against your tongue and the giddy thought of ‘I licked it so it’s mine’ has you grinning in victory.

You pull the tendrils away from your tongue and start to drag them slowly down your body. They slide wherever you take them, still wiggling and searching for purchase but never finding any as you drag them down your neck, over your collarbone and the tops of your breast. You want to pull down the cup of your bra and see if it would latch onto one of your nipples, desperate to know what they would feel like and how Neteyam would react to it, but the pulsing need between your thighs refuses to be ignored. They wriggle along your belly, over the bulge still present there, and tickle the inside of your thigh as you guide it closer and closer to your intended bonding zone.

When they reach for your clit, the feeling has you squealing. They’re relentless, determined to find something to wrap around and latch onto, but the wetness between your thighs has them sliding and squirming and unable to bond to you. It feels so weird, so weird and so good as they try to wrap themselves around your clit. Your hips move again on their own accord, riding him harder and faster while the tendrils inadvertently play with your clit, and holy fuck - fuck fuck fuck you think you might be going insane.

Somehow the tendrils find purchase through the wetness, a few wrapping themselves around your clit while the others stick themselves to the inside of your folds. And you can feel it - can feel the energy radiating from them.

It’s not how it’s usually done, but you’re not the usual couple. You don’t have a kuru so it shouldn’t be possible for you to bond fully with Neteyam, but you never believed that. And now you’ve proven that you were right. You can feel the bond forming from where you’re connected - from his most intimate part to yours.

Neteyam’s eyes are rolled back into his head again, so far gone that you can only see the whites of his eyes at the bottom. His chest is heaving under your palm, small grunts and moans spilling from his lips and even though his body can barely move, his cock twitches and pulses wildly inside you.

You can feel his knot forming at the base of his cock, the thick ball of tissue swelling and expanding with each thrust. It’s starting to catch at the rim of your pussy and each pass over it gets harder and harder to not get caught on it.

“Ooooh fuck,” You whine. It already feels so big. “Teyam, fuck,”

You don’t have to take it. You could pull off now and wrap your hand around it to help finish him off. But why the fuck would you do that? He’s yours. You were made for him. Meant to take him. All of him. And you’re not letting this opportunity pass without taking everything.

The next downward push of your hips is the last one you’re able to make. Neteyam’s knot is so big and you push your hips down on it harder, making it force its way inside you under your bodyweight. You can’t help the small scream that tears from your throat as it locks inside you, tethering you to Neteyam for who knows however long - and then you’re cumming.

Your orgasm tears through you relentlessly, body shaking and spasming as your hands reach out and hold onto Neteyam for dear life. Neteyam’s cock pulses inside you, warm ropes of cum painting your insides as he pants beneath you. When your orgasm is through and you’re done shaking enough to lift yourself up again, you notice Neteyam’s eyes are closed.

He’s sleeping now and you’re exhausted, so you lay your head down on Neteyam’s chest and try to get as comfortable as possible.

His knot stays locked inside you and the tendrils of his kuru remain wrapped around your clit as you drift off to sleep with him.

By the time Neteyam wakes up, it’s almost like nothing has even happened.

You’re free from his knot and his cock has since retracted back into its sheath. You’ve cleaned you both up a little, wiping away the evidence with a damp cloth and even though you know he’s going to be able to smell everything still, it’s not like that matters. You’re not trying to hide what happened between the two of you - just how it happened.

You’ve disposed of the baggie which is the important part anyway.

Somehow you’ve managed to get Neteyam’s loincloth back on. It was tricky given his sleeping position, but you’ve always been a little crafty. His cummerbund is still on the floor though along with your dress, but you’ve decided to go for a more comfortable t-shirt look after wiping yourself clean.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed playing with Neteyam’s songcord that was at one point looped around the band of his loincloth when his eyes flutter open. He groans, one hand coming up to press against the side of his head as he looks around the room in confusion. He seems to relax a bit when his eyes land on you.

“Wha–what happened?” Neteyam asks, voice no louder than a gruff mumble.

He still looks a little out of it, the drugs not quite completely out of his system yet. When you look into those big beautiful golden eyes of his, they’re wide and confused. But, more importantly, they’re clear and haze free. He’s himself - he’ll remember this.

So you say your next words carefully with the confidence that he’ll remember them.

“Iäle drugged you,” You tell him. “She drugged your drink and tried to take advantage of you. But she got called away before she could.” You reach out and cup his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone lovingly. “I took care of you.”

You hate the spark of doubt you see in his eyes at your words, no doubt thinking that Perfect Iäle would never do such a thing, but you know he trusts you. You’ve never given him a reason not to. You’re the perfect friend - kind, loyal and trustworthy. You wouldn’t say something like this if it wasn’t true.

“I knew she was no good,” You add. “I felt it in my heart. But it’s okay. I’m here, Teyam. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Neteyam’s lips part like he wants to speak and you know there’s probably a barrage of questions on the tip of his tongue, but the leftover drug still in his system forces him to be silent. You watch, pleased, as his eyes slip shut again, sending him into another round of haze filled sleep.

You hope he dreams. Maybe he’ll dream of what you just told him - see a different version of reality in which Iäle really did drug his drink instead of you and believe that that is this reality. Or maybe he’ll dream of you - your smile, your voice, your touch.

He’ll feel it now. When he wakes up again, he’ll feel it. The undeniable pull towards you as his mate. He’ll realize that he’s been a fool, wasting his time messing with another girl when he’s had you here, perfect and pretty for him this whole time.

Bye, Iäle, you think smugly, resting your upper body out along Neteyam’s hips and propping your chin up against his stomach.

I win.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella @sbrn0905

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#AvatarSurviveTheNight #neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human reader smut #tw: non con #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: drugging

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mourningsbane · 4 months ago

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Perhaps silly questions, but I'm growing more and more curious of your blog with each new entry/question answered. Love the story slowly unfolding here, cannot wait for the next part and following moons <3

Does Palekit have any further deformations? Or rather that question but in past tense. His tail looks almost fin-like, but I'm not sure if what we are seeing is a) a stylistic "drooping goo" effect, b) a very weird tuft of fur, or c) some malformation of the tail tip, resulting in its split structure.

What's the clan's relationship with Sweetkit, considering so many of its members', em... involvement in the perishing of Honeyspring and her kits. Mostly wondering if Flaildrizzle, Tanglefern and Rootstar feel anything (guilt, sadness, etc.) at all when they see this only kit in clan after a whole litter dies in such horrible circumstances before Sweetkit's arrival? I mean, surely such a tragedy leaves an impact. A followup question-

How much time has passed since Honeyspring's death and Sweetkit's arrival? Do any of LutumClan's cats consider Sweetkit to be like "a second chance" for the clan after losing their only queen and her litter?

A bit of an alternate outcome question! Let's assume Nothing Bad Ever Happened©️ to Honeyspring's kits. What would their warrior names be? What would their basic personalities be? Would any of them pursue high ranks within LutumClan?

Also sending fictional love to Honeyspring, stay goopy queen 💅

There's no such thing as a silly question! Besides, I like answering questions, even if it takes me a while to get to them! <3

My answers are a tad long, so I'll put them under the cut!

1.) Palekit did not have any further deformations! His face was slightly crooked, and his tongue sometimes hung out, but that was about it. He also had severe issues with vomiting; he just couldn't keep anything down and tended to bleed.

2.) Rootstar, Flaildrizzle, and Tanglefern all feel very guilty and upset by what happened to Honeyspring's kits! Still, they, and the rest of LutumClan, saw Sweetkit's arrival as a sign of hope. However, LutumClan as a whole tends to be a tad overprotective of the only kit in the clan.

3.) About 3-ish months have passed since Honeyspring's death! Sweetkit is definitely considered LutumClan's "second chance" of sorts, but a few cats (namely Rootstar and a few others) REALLY wish Sweetkit was in the care of someone who ISN'T Bearface. They're worried that Bearface, being a former outsider who barely respects the clan code as is, will be a bad influence on her.

4.) As for the alternate outcome, let me think! I'll give you my best guesses, but destiny is mutable, so these could've easily changed!

Smallkit would grow into Smallcloud, and would become an apprentice to Tanglefern! She would be on the smaller side, but she'd be a fierce creature for sure! She'd be smart and cautious, but never a push-over.

Flailkit would grow into Flailwhisker, and would likely go on the path of becoming a queen or mediator! She'd likely be about average height and a bit on the chunkier side. I imagine her to be quiet and shy, much like Flaildrizzle, and easy to talk over. Still, she cares greatly about her clanmates, even if she's easily overwhelmed. Smallcloud would've been very protective over her in their youth.

Palekit would grow into Paleclaw, and would most certainly follow the path of a warrior! He'd idolized his aunt, Rootstar, and wanted to become a leader just like her. He's prideful and a little boastful for sure, but not intentionally. He's just very proud of his aunt being the leader, and his mom (Flaildrizzle) being the deputy, and wants to make sure everyone knows it.

Had Honeyspring's kits lived, Sweetkit's role would have also changed, but I can't say it due to spoilers!

#thank you for the ask!#lutumclan #clangen #clan generator #warrior cats clangen #ask #honeyspring's kits

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headspace-hotel · 2 years ago

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so, in regards to your recent posts on kane-tucky and usa food industry, do you / how do you keep active hope and not slip in into apathy and "looking out for my own" get out of dodge mentality? im having a hard time articulating this, but what makes you not curl up into a shaking mess in anger resentment and a deep desire for change that likely, if ever, wont happen in our lifetime.... any advice is appreciated

The short answer is "getting out and doing stuff in the real world, educating, volunteering, whatever is within your ability"

I will add that "looking out for your own" is not...bad. Like I don't know precisely what you mean by this phrase, but it's actually very important to come to terms with the fact that your impact is strongest where your feet touch the ground, and you have a responsibility and relationship to the people immediately around you, the place immediately around you.

This has not been a popular opinion of mine in the past, but...you can't and shouldn't care about literally everything on the planet. There is of course huge global disparity with access to resources and aid networks, and the largest communities we belong to are: all of Earth and the whole human species.

However: your level of agency is so low with issues that are happening on the other side of the world from you, compared with issues that are happening in your home town. And we're seeing people just get completely burned out from compassion fatigue without ever doing shit because the global responsibility is pushed on us and the local responsibility is not.

I hated my hometown for a decade. In high school I wanted so badly to leave. It's one of those desolate-feeling towns that's developed enough for a shopping center and big chain retailers but not enough to have a sense of community or a single bookstore. I've never been able to place myself precisely along the urban-rural spectrum because I feel isolated from even isolation: there's nowhere to go that doesn't feel razed by human development, where you can't hear the noise of traffic on roads, but it's all cattle pastures, sprawling storage facilities, auto parts stores, big, empty churches. One wrong turn will put you in a dark valley where there are rotting, derelict trailers on cinder blocks hidden back in the woods, and this place has that same feeling of "nowhere to go."

And I felt paralyzed by everything bad happening around the world and the fact that I was just one person, and I had gotten the horrible impression that the only thing I could do about anything was vote and donate money to links I saw online. The worst lie the internet taught me was that in saving the world, nothing matters except Power, Money, and an unclear third category that involves throwing bricks at cops.

But I touched grass. And the weeds taught me something. Do you see the parking lots, the harsh pavement and gravel and brick? I saw. I was surrounded by this landscape of brutal, totalitarian surfaces, impermeable concrete locking the soil away. But in the cracks in the surfaces, dandelions, purslane, and spurge were thriving.

I observed that the spurge stretched out like a shaggy rug and padded the concrete surfaces. The old leaves of the dandelions, as they withered, caught bits of dirt as it flowed into drainage ditches after rains. Soil was forming, and the sprawling structure of the early weeds seemed specially adapted for the task. In older cracks, more plants moved in; I found a wild ruellia blooming in a paved road, an evening primrose. And in some places, seedling trees.

Have you seen what happens when a sidewalk is left unmaintained for years? It disappears. The roots slowly buckle and break it into pieces, and it vanishes beneath lush leaves and moss. A tree growing in a crack in concrete will slowly pry the slab apart.

This is how my IRL rewilding project got started—just pulling plants from the pavement cracks, raising them in pots. I was surprised and awed at the resilience of the plants. I found little trees in concrete with at least two years' growth on them, that had survived being mowed down multiple times.

The weeds changed my viewpoint on the world forever. Up until that point, certain facts about power and politics and money had seemed like law, but I'd suddenly seen that there was a deeper magic.

The dandelions' survival made it possible for others to survive, which in turn made even more life flourish. They could not demolish and remove the concrete and pavement, but they could overcome it by refusing to be destroyed, because the power to take care of each other is in their nature.

People have made fun of me for telling others to go plant a tree. I think culturally we have this ingrained dismissal of things like that due to the twee, cutesy associations of "tree hugging" environmentalists, except in this instance it's because planting a tree is pointless in light of something something systemic issues, not because climate change isn't real, or...whatever reason people have for finding environmentalists cringe. (That is kinda sus now that I think about it.)

And I'm not saying planting a tree will fix climate change. I'm saying that something in my brain had broken and planting a tree unbroke it.

Go outside. Touch grass. Do the work in the immediate community you belong to, in the place you are in, where you have the best and most impact. We have the power to take care of each other, and that power grows stronger the more we are cared for.

The internet is a good place to share information, but that's fucking it. The real stuff, the stuff you can touch with your hands, the stuff that will heal despair, is out there in the real, touchable world. You need to see and feel what you are doing. Don't just give help—accept it. The power to take care of each other is in our nature, and by nature we can give more when we thrive as a result of others' care.

I hope this helps.

#plants #gardening #dandelions #rewilding #plantarchy

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗

hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3

You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.

He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.

Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.

He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.

When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.

And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.

You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.

He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.

So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.

Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb.

You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.

But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.

It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.

You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.

So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.

It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.

But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.

Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.

He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.

He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.

You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.

“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”

The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”

“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”

You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”

“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.

You meet his smile with a grimace.

“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

You don’t answer him, just shrug.

“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.

That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.

“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”

Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.

Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.

Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.

He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.

Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…

Eddie tries not to smile too wide.

“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.

“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.

“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.

Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.

“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”

You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious.

Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.

“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”

He laughs when it makes you laugh.

“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face.

Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself. “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”

“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”

“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”

You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.

You hope he keeps his promise.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles

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regencyrosalie · 3 months ago

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Hey there! <3 I really loved the way you write about modern! Anthony and I was wondering on maybe doing something with Benedict?

I was thinking always a modern one, either a xreader or maybe dating! headcanons!

in that case, thanks in anticipation and have a good day/night!!🩷🌸

hi hon ! thank you so much for sending an ask ! im going to structure this like i did for my anthony hc’s, i hope thats okay! im working on a fic rn that’ll be out hopefully soon!

biblically accurate modern!benedict hcs

- benedict WILL draw you

- he will draw quick little silly sketches of you in funny outfits and hats with exaggerated eyes and show them to you while giggling relentlessly

- but he also has an entire sketchbook filled with accurate and detailed drawings/paintings of you. he gets bashful every time you find a new one.

- may or may not have a caffeine addiction

- when you move in with him he moves his little art corner to a different room so you can still sleep while he works

- will get frustrated and come back into the bedroom and watch you sleep until he gets motivated/inspired again

- he loves dogs, specifically small dogs. chihuahuas are probably his favorite but he wont tell anyone.

- his sleep schedule is HORRIBLE, but it evens out when you live together because he wants to fall asleep with you.

- speaking of, i feel like Benedict is a human heater

- which is amazing during the winter

- but when it’s hot it is actually torture because hes trying to fall asleep practically on top of you.

- and youre like PLEASE get the FHUCK off of me and then he pouts and huffs until you make it work or he falls asleep

- benedict is close with every one of his siblings. but especially anthony and eloise.

- has funny uncle vibes

- especially with the younger siblings. he will sneak them candy and also probably money.

- anthony and violet have yet to find out

- i think he probably likes savory foods more than sweets, but will eat anything you make him.

- i feel like hes fully clothed about 50% of the time. the man despises pants i can just feel it in my bones.

- favorite color is red. he likes the versatility.

- cannot sing. but will sing. and will sing loudly. every shower is a concert.

- probably the closest with his mother

- love language is quality time

- this means picnic dates, movie dates, target run dates, going to the grocery store dates

- will make you handwritten cards and paintings for holidays, and puts sticky notes with sappy notes and bad pickup lines on everything you own.

- other than visual art, i think he has a few other hobbies. he likes movies, in fact, he pretty much likes every movie he watches. cant get into shows though, his attention span is not long enough. he also likes puzzles, and will frame them and keep them hoarded in his closet.

- i think a part of him is still grieving his father. violet was in constant agony after he died, and anthony was busy inheriting everything and dealing with the trauma of witnessing it: so benedict was left to pick up the pieces with the rest of the siblings. ie. explain what happened to the younger ones, try to cheer them up, etc.

- for that reason, i don’t think he ever really processed it completely, and he gets weirdly quiet when he thinks about it too long.

- cant be in anthony’s office for more than an hour at a time, because it used to be edmunds, and all he can think of is how he would pester his father all day while he worked.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgeron x reader #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton hc #bridgerton hcs

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half-dead-writer · 3 months ago

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You know what we need? You Niel with a girl boss gf. Imagine it, neil with a hot rich girlfriend that likes to spoil him. The others reactions would be funny asf too

I would absolutely spoil him, if only I was rich 😩 Thank you for your request! There needs to be more Neil content!! I changed it to gn so I hope you don't mind

Young Neil with a hot and rich S/O

character: Young Neil Nordegraf (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: 750

reader: gender neutral

warnings: none

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

ok first off

how the hell did he end up with you?

he thought he was like, way out of your league

you're hot, pretty wealthy from what he knew about you- and him? he was just some 20 year old guy, living in Stephen's house

Neil had an undeniable crush on you but never really bothered to confess it

I mean, technically you never asked??

ok truthfully he just didn't think he had any chances

he "waited for you to make the first move", he would tell you everything, if only you asked

until, with some luck on his side and the stars aligning, you did

"Neil, would you wanna be my boyfriend?" Even though it was barely visible through his poker face, it was clear he was caught off guard by the question. The warmth travelled straight to his ears, a stark contrast in comparison to his face. His weird quirk was not being able to blush through his cheeks. You noticed it right away. "I like you. A lot," Eyes open wide were scanning your facial structure, almost as a distraction for the sudden shift in the mood. "It's a yes, I take it?" You smiled, not expecting such a fast answer. "Yeah," he deadpanned, seeming a bit dazed. It took him a short moment to spit out his next words, "Can I hug you?" A light chuckle hit his ears, of course he would ask such question after being asked out, you thought. It was honestly adorable. "Of course," you grinned, quickly clinging to him like a snake. An awkward second passed until he reciprocated. Outwardly he was still a bit in disbelief of the entire thing happening, but inside he was bubbling with joy. Or maybe it was vomit? Probably both, but he decided not to dwell on it. Aside from a few times you decided to sit close to him, the warmth of your body, let alone a hug from you, was something he would never expect to get after just asking. And your smell- The perfume you wore was a thing he always immediately recognized, it was like your trademark. it brought him comfort having you up so close.

The gang's reactions were of course- the way you'd expect them to be.

"Neil is there anything you're hiding from us? Do you use some fancy brand of cologne that make others go crazy?" Kim's eyes stared at you from under her bangs, not judgemental, yet very confused. Neil, of course, smelled himself, "no, I smell just like I usually do," he responded with certainty. "Wow," was Stephen's addition to the convo, "almost makes me jealous! I mean- with all due respect of course, Y/N" Everyone's attention was turned to the doors being flung open, Scott visibly surprised was standing on the other side. He was late to the meeting. "Neil is dating Y/N??"

Neil was a pretty easy to maintain boyfriend

that didn't stop you from absolutely spoiling him though

new video game? got it babe

you want starbucks? I'll get you 2 cinnabuns along with it

new clothes? only the comfiest ones

he was pretty surprised when you first offered to buy him such expensive stuff

he doesn't need much, but of course he appreciates every gift you give him

he just wishes he could get you something like that as well, which his budget doesn't really allow for

you reassure him he doesn't have to buy you anything, that his presence is enough for you

Wallace won't spare his quips about him being your sugar-baby, though

one time Neil thought to show his appreciation to you by making you both a fancy dinner

which turned out- pretty horrible

You tried to be polite by taking a bite, but the offending flavor attacked your tastebuds without holding back, forcing you to quickly wash down the taste with a sip of water, "It's um... not the worst thing I had?" Neil gazed at your reaction, taking a bite himself, outright spitting it out after, "ewwh- it tastes so bad," he scrunched, "you really think it's not the worst?"" "... Yeah it's pretty bad," you smiled softly, amused by the reaction to his own creation. "Wanna order take-out?" He looked at you expectantly, not even trying to argue about the quality of the food. "On it," you said, phone already in your hand.

#scott pilgrim takes off #x reader #imagine #requests open #inbox open #spto #spto x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #young neil #headcanons #drabble #young neil nordegraf #neil nordegraf #young neil x reader #neil nordegraf x reader #young neil nordegraf x reader

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insane-fanfic-author-4life · 7 months ago

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If you don’t mind questions; would it be okay if I ask about the culture of New Rome/Camp Jupiter in your AU?

I saw you mentioned in one of your one-shots about Jason that he and Dakota hate mortals (or used to in Jason’s case). I know with how outsider-averse New Rome seemed in canon I figured they’d have at least SOME distaste for mortals (especially from old families), but I want to know your thoughts on it! Maybe we could possibly get a story where Dakota meets Sally👀?

If you’re willing, do you have any ideas for the Sea of Monsters quests Jason and Dakota went on? I’m assuming they went after the Golden Fleece, and can only imagine their (or even all of New Rome’s) faces when it’s found out that Percy got to it before them😄. I’m assuming on that quest they found Reyna!

(If you can’t tell I love hearing people’s New Rome headcanons and what life was like for them)!

Apologies for the mini-rant and if it ends up not making too much sense😅! Hope you’re doing well!

🫶🫶🫶

HI! Thank you so much for this ask, I've always wanted to share my New Rome World with someone.

Sorry in advance for my rambling.

Rick gives us so little about new Rome it's crazy! So, I've kinda came up with my own world-building and culture while writing/planning my Jason Grace fics.

New Rome, in my AU, is very cut off from the mortal world, and I know that in the Riordanverse it's the same way, but I mean so cut off from the world outside Oakland Hills and Mortal culture. Any hint of Mortal Culture- or even anything that isn't New Roman is looked at as taboo. You've never handled a weapon before? Look at the time I've gotta go. You don't speak Latin or use Roman Numerals on a regular basis? Oh, sorry my dad said we can't be friends. You don't enjoy the traditional meals but like Takis? Why didn't the Wolves eat you.

In my horridly-named-au there's a lot of racism/bitterness towards mortals, definitely from the Golden families who've lived there since the fall of Rome. Mortals have always been very oblivious towards the gods and mythology going on, but still they tend to put their noses in places they shouldn't be. We see in all of the quests that when this happens, things tend to get sticky for the Demigod in question. And because of how cut off the New Romans are from the Mortal world, just one bad experience in the outside world can shape entire generations of legacies.

Forget openly thinking you'd rather live outside of New Rome.

Most of the time that isn't seen as an issue though, because why would you want to leave? There's an already structured city with schools, apartments, hospitals, restaurants, and everything you need to survive. To raise a family and grow old. While outside of New Rome you're constantly surrounded by the very thing that attracts monsters to you.

Besides after serving the ten years you have too in the military, you know more about the New Roman Way than the Mortals. Everything the Mortals do now is strange. What do you mean they have free time? That they eat pizza for dinner? That's so unhealthy.

I feel like the people in New Rome don't really understand free time and pleasures very much. Even if they're safe and can have those things they're still demigods/legacies. They always have to be at their top game, or they'll die.

Their little understanding of the outside world (plus horribly views towards mortals) leads to racism and jokes towards them.

I have a lot more on New Rome culture but that's the gist of their views of the outside world.

Also, I've been planning a one-shot about Dakota (and some others) meeting Sally!

I've been planning a longer fanfiction about Jason's childhood/ quests leading up to HoO. I want to start publishing by the end of this year, but I want to have a few (maybe ten) chapters written up and edited.

Anyways here's my ideas for the Sea of Monsters Quest with him and dakota (plus whoever else was with them)

They get stranded on one of the islands in the sea of monsters, which is where they find the Maenad rave (another implied thing in the series) They're preteens and awkward and just need help but these maenads... aren't very helpful, so say the least.

They run into Triton at one point, who is a little bitchy and ends up sending them towards Black Beards Stolen Ship, where all the former C C's Island Resort people are captured.

Jason hates what's going on, and jumps on and concidenlly is like 'I'm here to save you. I'm the son of Jupiter' to Reyna while she, Hylla, and Kinzie plan their escape. Reyna doesn't really need Jason and his peoples help, but it'll give her a better advantage, so they all for a plan. She ends us showing off and Jason realizes she has to be a demigod.

That's pretty much all I have for that so far, sorry if that wasn't what you were expecting and rereading it is very messy.

I'm so happy you asked and if you have anymore New Rome questions I'd love to hear them. Also if you have any New Rome headcanons that you don't mind share with me that would be great cuz it's so underrated and I love people who like the Roman Side of the riordanverse.

Hope you're doing well as well! Thank you for sending this and if you, or anyone else, has anymore asks let me know!

#heroes of olympus #jason grace #pjo #pjo hoo toa #dakota pjo #fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #writing #pjo headcanon #new rome #new Rome culture #roman demigods #reyna ramirez arellano #the Sea of monsters

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quohotos · 1 year ago

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what's something you would want to see in an animated adaptation of the underland chronicles?

Oh BOY where to begin?

These are going to be in no particular order...

Each trailer should have the prophecy read out in a dramatic voice. The trailer for the first one will go "And eight will be left when we count up the dead" and then a quick montage of some pretty scary shit happening but the cuts are too fast to see what's actually happening. The only exception to this is the marks of secret where the fact that the song is a prophecy is a reveal (however the song plays in full in the trailer, it's just structured different from the others)

The animation should be a little edgy. Give things hard angles, stay away from the bulbous smooth (Modern) Disney look.

Really go nuts with the bat designs. Embrace the warrior cats OC-ness of it. Let all the background bats be just as vibrant and wacky as the main cast.

Everyone's bond should sorta look like them, kinda the way that dogs kinda look like their owners. Solovet's bond should look like a total villain. Euripides should look like Vikus. I mean, Aurora's got that gold thing going on which Luxa also has with the crown. The bonds gotta look like they belong together spiritually.

The nibblers need to have more of a role before the marks of secret. Have them in the background of other shots, have them actually get lines in the jungle, see if they can be more present at the council discussing the plague, write some new scenes for them, etc. I wouldn't even be against them inventing a new nibbler character and putting them on one of the earlier quests. The audience should already know and care about them before we see them being horribly brutalized in a reenactment of a real world genocide.

Ares, and all the other bats for that matter, need to have very expressive eyes. They don't always get a lot of lines so they should still have a way to have visible presence in the scene's that they're in.

Every time the bats do that thing where they detect rats and their ears shoot up it should play a musical sting

All the underland creatures/factions should have their own leitmotif. Ripred's lieitmotif should be this uncanny blending of both the rat's theme but also with hints of the Regalians and Gregor's. After Gregor think's that boots has died in the labyrinth there should be this super dramatic and gutwrenching theme, and then all the music just stops for the rest of the movie until they reunite and then the music can come back. The most you get is like a minimalist drum and base sequence, but nothing properly melodic until we know that boots is safe.

The sequence Gregor escaping with Ares and Pearlpelt from the labyrinth should be all in one take.

Every time Gregor slips into the Rager state it should be accompanied by a recognizable sound effect sting and have it's own sound effect and muscial sting. Something like glass shattering mixed with reverb and pitch shifted down. Rager sequences should be in first person and show just how much he's dissociated from the violence he's doing. The audience just sees that split vision with all the weak points highlighted and one by one they get crossed out.

I hope they cast someone appropriately nasally to play Ripred, I think he should be a little high pitched and scrungly. However, I would make an exception if they somehow got Kieth David to voice him. I would be very unsatisfied if they cast Ryan Reynolds

I hope they cast someone with a deep voice to play Ares. He needs to be big and imposing and scary. He needs to be like the big kid at the playground. The fact that there's a more pained sensitive side to him needs to be a revelation. He needs to be a bit monstrous so you can understand why everyone sees him that way, and why he's dying not to be seen that way but has basically given up and accepted how the world sees him. I would be very Unsatisfied if they cast Ryan Reynolds. It would be fucking hilarious if they cast Chris Pratt... I would hate it but it would probably work and that makes me very mad.

I don't really care how Gregor is cast. Caleb McLaughlin would be a perfect Gregor, but he's all grown up now. He could probably still voice him but it wouldn't be the same. I do not care so long as it's not Ryan Reynolds.

Please don't have anyone call Gregor "Greg"... that just feels wrong. Well maybe Ripred would do it specifically to piss him off.

Henry needs to have a dumb haircut, like... it has to be stupid and ostentatious.

The audience should get to see Ripred from close to Gregor's perspective often. Have the camera right over his shoulder and tilted up to see just how tall this beast is.

Let us see more of the happy times that are alluded to at the start of the marks of secret. Even if it's just a montage, let us see them being normal. Let us see Gregor and Ares play that ball game and see the kids just hanging out. Please 😭

Make Gregor more talkative. There's great moments of internal monologue that could be lost in a screen adaptation, let him talk to Ares or Luxa or even temp about it.

In the code of claw Ares should go with him to the prophecy room to learn that he's going to die. Gregor should tell him about the stone knight and it can be something they share. You can even set it up with them doing the bond handshake there while laying on the floor so that it's a visual callback later (Fuck, I just thought of that and now I'm destroyed again).

I mentioned this in another post, but I think it would be cool to have Gregor get a walkman or other battery powered music player from the museum. They can have a few tunes to bond over, but eventually they have to take the batteries out to put them into flashlights.

A huge missed opportunity in the books is how basically every single human in the Underland we see is royalty or part of the military. I think it would be cool to let us see a bit more of how the regular people live. Maybe have one or two characters who aren't royal or soldiers.

Earlier entries should try to cut away from the violence, simply showing the character's reactions to the horrible things happening around them. Later entries should stop hiding it, paralleling the loss of innocence of the characters. By the code of claw Gregor and Ares, or at the very least Ripred, should be allowed to swear. There's no way you're getting that story on screen without at least a PG 13 rating, and these people just witnessed a genocide and are about to kill a bunch of people in a war. Gregor can say "Holy shit" instead of "aww Jeez" at least once. I also just think "What's your plaaaaaaan" is great but "What's your fucking plan?" lands pretty hard as well.

Don't make the underland too visible. Don't add global illumination. Let there be darkness, let there be long shadows, let us only barely see distant things. When Gregor finally gets echolocation then make the distant things visible through a strange shader... but cut out the bit where he can echolocate heat that makes no sense.

Ms. Cormaci needs to sound exactly like how she did in the audiobook, this isn't up for debate.

When the Bane calls Gregor and Ares to battle it needs to be one of the most disturbing, blood chilling things the audience has ever heard. It needs to be loud, and painful, and monstrous. You gotta see that the pup we all loved and coddled has fully lost it and become this fascist ball of hatred and murder and violence. It should cut through the audience's core and silence everything else in the scene. Just have it hold there after he's shouted, showing them locking eyes on each-other and cutting back in between the two. Yes, the Bane has completely been subsumed as a symbol of his side, but so has Gregor. He's in the black armor, he's the figurehead as well. There are parallels, y'all.

Let the Shiners be at least 20% less awful. They're funny, but let them have their hero moment where they're redeemed in the marks of secret rather than saving it for the end of code of claw.

Old Hamnet in the flashbacks to the flooding of the garden should be hot. Flashback Ripred who was there is of course also hot. He remains so in the present as well.

The narrative that Gregor is told in the first book, that the natives just let Sandwitch have the Underland because they weren't really using it... it's heavily implied that's a lie, especially after we learn about the Diggers and how they were genocided and basically expunged from history. I think there should be a direct callback to it, make this implication an explicit part of the story.

Give my girl Aurora some more lines. She goes on all these adventures and never gets to be more than "Luxa's bat".

Oh no I hit character limit for this post... uh... I have a lot of thoughts and I probably will have more in the future 😅. Probably way more than you asked for but you opened the floodgates and this was the result.

Thank you for the ask!

#ask quohotos #gregor the overlander #the underland chronicles #tuc #tuc adaptation

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another-delta-lover · 23 days ago

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How do you feel about the millions of Americans losing their rights? Since trump won the election?

I didn't want to bring it up bc I know it really hard for all my US friends, which I am really sorry for what's happening and what that means for them, their country and the rest of the world. But I'm not very informed about anything political really, so I don't have a well structured opinion of it at all.

I just wanted to say that even though the situation rn is DEVASTATING, people from all around the world will keep fighting and speaking for their rights, every single voice counts and it WILL count. In some way that my uninformed ass somehow knows, stuff will get better. there WILL be changes for good eventually. Just don't shut up about it and speak for your rights. It might take a while, years n decades even, stuff WILL get better and hope won't be lost, because giving up won't be an option.

I just hope everything gets better for you all. I will keep trying to be a funny person so you have some place to rest for this horrible situation, i don wanna get political after all.

Please don't give up :(

#ask #asks #deltas consulting room

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thesupreme316 · 1 year ago

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Hey hun! I was wondering if you wrote for Takeshita? If you do can I have him and a gender neutral reader baking cinnamon rolls together?

Cinnabon Love (Konosuke Takeshita x GN!Reader):

Summary: You and Takeshita bake cinnamon rolls together.

Word Count: 931

Supreme Speaks: hey yall, thanks to anon for requesting this (sorry for taking so long). also thanks for being patient. it was my first time writing for him but I hope I did him justice. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: I AM TALKING ABOUT PRE DON CALLIS (EW) TAKESHITA CUZ MY LIL CINNAMON ROLL BOI WAS PURE AND DELIGHTFUL

Taglist: @wwenhlimagines @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @cassie0sstuff @triscillal

We all know that Takeshita loves Cinnabon

Like you were even doubting that he loves you because of how much he talks about it/eats it

I mean did he have a relationship confirmation on Twitter with the company

You: So is this our relationship? Or am I the third-wheeler?

Takeshita: You are the third wheeler….don’t ever think otherwise

You never understood what was so special about them…especially when you could get a whole pack from Walmart at a cheaper price

He gave you major side-eyes when you said that

Sometimes he would be very heartbroken that he couldn’t get some either due to a time crunch or the state not having one

So when you told him that you could make some at home; he lit up like a Christmas tree

But he quickly went back to his pouting state as he said he was a horrible baker

To which all you said was that he just had to put the desert on the sheet and bake it

You took him to the store and he just stared at the different products Cinnabon had

Cinnamon rolls, cookies, cake, even breakfast sandwiches

But he ultimately decided to get cinnamon rolls and cookies after a rough day (of Don Callis trying to corrupt his sweet mind)

You brought the bags in as Takeshita raced to the kitchen, slamming the chilled dough on the counter. Quickly, you put the groceries up while Takeshita was scrambling for bowls. Once he found said bowl and slammed the cabinet door shut, he slumped his shoulders, pausing all actions. You looked over at him confused, questioning why he suddenly lost energy.

“Takeshita, honey, what’s wrong?” You asked

He looked over at you with puppy dog eyes, “I don’t know what to put in the bowl. Even if I did, I can’t bake.” If this man was a dog, you would have sworn you saw his tail stop wagging. You giggled a little bit.

“Honey, we don’t have to mix anything. Cinnabon has their rolls ready to bake.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his tall (beautiful, structured, golden, toned-) body. He smiled as he put an arm over your back, reciprocating the embrace. But you couldn’t help to notice that his hand twitched when it made contact with your back, it only does that when a certain thing happens. You sighed as you proceeded to ask, “Takeshita, did you slam your finger in the cabinet?” He nodded slowly against the top of your head. “Do you want ice?”

A moment of silence went by, and as soon as you were gonna repeat yourself, Takeshita spoke up in a very sheepish and quiet tone, “Yes, please.”

After getting him the ice, you instructed him to sit down as you popped open the cylinder of cinnamon roll dough. His eyes lit up as he saw the raw dough rise ever so slightly. With his other hand, he started to place the rolls in the buttered pan. You soon had to take over as he nearly ate a raw roll and almost dropped the pan.

You slid the full pan into the hot oven, damn near burning your eyebrows off. As you closed the oven door, music started to play in the background. You turned around to Takeshita doing a little dance, making you laugh. You joined in and started dating as time went on. As the rolls were baking, Takeshita played some of his favorite songs and reminisced about the trips you two would take to different bakeries (each time having a different lead-up).

As the last minutes approached, Takeshita just sat in front of the oven, waiting for it to ding. When it did, you nearly ate the floor trying to make sure he didn’t open it immediately and take out the scorching pan.

“Why are you getting in the way of my love?” He pouted. You rolled your eyes as he basically disregarded you.

“They need to cool down first and then you can touch them…you overgrown toddler.” You said smacking his noninjured hand away.

As soon as the rolls came out of the oven, Takeshita started to ice them (you didn’t even know when he heated the icing). You stayed back and just watched as joy overtook his face. You loved seeing him so happy, especially after a long week of traveling and wrestling. You knew he needed this; a very cheap and content version of therapy.

You watched him plate a single cinnamon roll, grab a fork, and dig into it. Biting into it, a smile took over Takeshita’s face (and yours as well). “How does it taste?” You asked leaning your head on your hand.

“It tastes even better cause we made it together.” He said with a massive grin on his face. Your heart fluttered at the statement. You reached over the counter, aiming to pick up a roll. But your chance was quickly stopped as Takeshita’s hand lightly hit yours with the icing spoon. You dropped your jaw in disbelief as he didn’t allow you to get a treat. “No, you can eat one of your disgusting Walmart rolls.” He said with a mocking voice. Your face scrunched up before he gave you a small corner of his on a napkin.

The nerve of this man….but you still loved him regardless.

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagine #all elite wrestling imagines #konosuke takeshita #konosuke takeshita aew #konosuke takeshita imagine #takeshita aew #takeshita imagine #takeshita x reader #konosuke takeshita x reader #aew headcanon #aew x reader

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crystal-crax · 11 months ago

Text

A RANT

THE NEON LEON

(II) Why he needs to fail at being a leader

Inspired by Skulltrot's Leo analysis on Youtube (WATCH IT, IT'S SO GOOD, I LOVE IT)

What? Crystal! You're contradicting yourself-

Shhhh! This is poetry, listen to me

One of the reasons i've seen people complain about rise leo, is his overall "confidence".

They find him annoying or reduce him to "the funny guy", the one that messes everything up in the movie and deus ex machina's his way to the power of friendship.

But honestly, i think this is so far from the truth; Leo is integral to the concept and culmination of the rise turtles, he cements the message this version of the turtles has been trying to explain from the beginning.

You can't do everything alone; trust those who love you, and love those who you trust.

But honestly, i think a lot of people forget that we've all probably felt like him before.

Leo is quite a complicated character to understand easily (mostly bc the rise series got horribly cut down and omg i'm still hurting), because an important part of his character is he will literally never be honest about what he's feeling. The only thing he talks about? How he knows (bc he doesn't just think it, he's so sure about it) nobody trusts him or thinks he's capable of holding his own weight.

He comes off as uninterested and goofy because he so desesperately clings to that portrayal of himself because he needs to trick both others and his own mind that he's fine.

He doesn't think he's enough, he believes the team would be perfectly fine without him. He thinks he needs to prove he can do something so he can be valuable to the team.

And i think it's amazing

"Rise of the TMNT", the title already gives away the purpose of their different personalities and coping mechanisms on this version of the story. We're not meant to see an structured team of properly trained ninjas, we're here for the ride, we are walking alongside them as the team gets in line and learn how to be heroes.

Sure the other versions of the turtles had their own character arcs, you don't need to see something from the instant beginning to know the characters are growing, but rise has always felt more of a love letter to the turtle family itself. A complete exploration of an alternate universe where the mad dogz got to somewhat live as teenagers before earning the mantle as protectors of the world (and new york lol).

We're familiar with Leonardo's story in evey tmnt version, he's the leader. He's in charge of protecting the city and his family.

But the problem is always there, he fears he won't be enough, that he will fail to be the leader the world asks him to be. This is also something we see in rise leo but it's more...fresh? It feels naturally younger.

Were you never nagged about not taking things seriously when you were younger? Were you never yelled at for messing things up? Didn't you ever feel as if you had to prove to others that you were more they perceived you to be?

As someone that battles their own inferiority complex, leo feels...so easy to relate to.

He didn't ask for the responsability, and he kind of doesn't want it, but he learns to bear it properly.

He fails to be the good leader they expect him to be (i also have the theory he self-sabotages himself a lot?) but he learns to be more than what they expect.

To quote myself from my last post (yes i loved typing that) "a leader is not the one that orders, but the one that motivates and supports you". He learns how being a leader is not imposing or bearing every problem and responsability alone, but to motivate your team and guide them to never loose hope.

He uses everything he already knows about himself and his team to be better and guide them to a new version of the ninja turtle gang, one where family and trust is far more important than anything else (and it feels good to know we won't have the typical raph vs leo fight for leadership in the future- i mean there was a fight BUT IT WASN'T ABOUT THAT)

Someone stop me i might just start a tmnt rant loop of my own making and i'm enjoying it😭

#tmnt 2018 #tmnt rant #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rotmnt #rise leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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little-de-vil · 14 days ago

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Hi! Sorry this took so long to get to you, but I hope my long-windedness makes up for it. Starting with your distinction of Cutters and Keepers… I find this really interesting and I had heard the terms thrown around on your blog a lot and I always was like “I should look into that” and then I didn’t because I’m a horribly forgetful person. BUT! I finally did, and I adore the way you’ve set up the structure of class divides in Two. After re-reading Mockingjay, where Katniss spends a few weeks in Two and lives with resistance fighters in mining communities in Two, I have always been interested in how the distinction between Peacekeepers in Two and the whole gladiator culture with the Careers and volunteering came to be.

The line: “The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, entrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors.” was just SO GOOD. And I really like how you managed to keep the aspects of pride prevalent in the culture of D2, but made sure to separate the pride of the Cutters and their cultural traditions from the pride of those more influenced by propaganda in D2. (Also… If you ever were to write on ao3, I would absolutely devour your fics. I’m still reading through Snowfall Upon Sophroniscus on Tumblr, so I may need to pick your brains on that once I finish, but I had to talk to you abt your amazing D2 lore first).

Another quote as a segue: “The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general.” This really struck me, especially because of the very obvious profiling shown in TBOSAS with the officer candidate test and Coriolanus saying that the other cadets can’t read so he had an advantage. Of course, one of D2’s primary industries is peacekeeping, but I can’t imagine the Capitol would be happy putting any district people in a place of power after the first rebellion. (Since I’m into D13, I think that they have officers and did before the dark days which kind of served as a warning to the Capitol not to have that happen again).

Now onto the post about religion in Panem, and the concept of “Saying Your Stones”. I thought this was such a wonderful tradition, and again you have a real talent for creating meaningful (and canon, imo) cultural traditions. I’m interested in the fact that the practice changed after the war from something one did by themselves to a community focused event. It was in an effort to create more ties to the community, yes, but was there any other reason? Was it a form of cultural resistance? I’d also LOVE to know your thoughts on what those who moved from the Capitol to Two as officers thought about D2 cultural traditions and what their efforts were to suppress them!

And in come new folk, bold and strong

No hammer or pickaxe

Just guns and armor, waving banners of country flag

Ain’t got no space to hold ‘em, but they make space themselves

Takin’ our homes, our pride, our love, our work

They don’t do much in mountain-land ‘sides work us to the bone

I think you hit the nail on the head when it came to the opinions of the Cutters on the new coming peacekeepers. I appreciate that you think there is a genuine physical divide between the Keepers and the Cutters, because I think that may be the only way that the Capitol could prevent riots and constant class tension between the industries. Also an excellent critique on the Capitol's imperialism.

All in all, I am so glad I read your explanations regarding the development of the class divide in D2, because it is something I have been very interested in ever since I re-read Mockingjay. The work that you have put in here is very impressive, and very realistic when it came to the shift in attitude over time, and how a decent amount of children around the time of the 74th games are Cutters-By-Blood but became Keepers/volunteers/career tributes for upward social mobility. I am very interested to know, since you are a D2 historian, if you used any real-world historical examples to develop these ideas, and if so I would love to know what they were.

I really really love your work! It is so interesting to see an entirely different take on the state I grew up in, as CO has definitely outgrown its mining/ranching originations. I’m always just happy to see different interpretations of Neo-North American culture represented in Panem, and you do a truly fantastic job representing that!

Writing this while watching TBOSAS was a religious experience. I know Sejanus always Said His Stones and Snow is not deserving of a Home Name. I’m going to respond to this by writing out the responses under certain segments so that it’s clear which part I’m talking about. This is also as always stupid long, so I'll just write it under the cut.

I really like that you love that line! It was such a quick thing I put together, already knowing that I wanted a geographical cultural distinction but have that be the case because of the war. Those cultural personal markers (blunt v sweet) was already how I pictured those two, but I knew that I wanted their cultural traditions to differ in certain aspects because geography shapes culture. I was also sure that I wanted to separate the Cutters pride and the Keepers pride by being communal vs individualistic. To quote me (teehee): “Where the masons took pride in their work, the weapons manufacturers took pride in the Capitol's adoration.”

So I when I wrote this line, I was thinking of this in two aspects:

“Hope”

Proximity to power/whiteness under assimilation

I put hope in quotes like that because it’s different to the one mentioned throughout the series. I see it as a false hope, where those of 2 who do have access to power have already had it from the start in some facet (ie: Born-and-Bred Keepers) v a Cutter who will never have that access unless they reject their culture and thus become an oppressor to gain power/wealth/security, etc. (for just reason or not). With that annexing of culture to gain that power, it further distances those Cutters from their community, with a mutual betrayal and that feeling of never fitting in with the other Keepers who will forever see them as less than.

Notice how I say “gain” and not “earn” because it’s always going to be something that is already accessible v something fought for, but ultimately pretty unreachable. Gain is closer linked to growth whereas earn is closer linked to achievement and winning, and while there is achievement in accessing the power that being a Keeper brings you, it will never been seen as deserved among either community. And community is essential to the people of 2. I’m not saying that to force this into my lore, we can see it clear as day in the first book with Cato and Clove.

I knew that I still wanted to have it be a possibility and even success of someone from 2 being in such a high position of power because of that hope, but I also knew that whoever it is, they’d probably be a white man. Having soldiers and some higher ups be people of color work because of the way the propaganda works, but having the higher positions of power still being held by white men still continues the idea of power=whiteness and a proximity to whiteness will always be seen as powerful.

I always knew that I wanted something to mark the change of culture that comes with war, particularly a war lost among those who have these cultural traditions. You’re right in it creating more ties to the community and that there were more reasons behind it. I highlight this a bit with the Sophro Trio and how with each new generation slowly looses their culture, an inversion of what is it by Katniss’ time. And it was always going to be a form of resistance because of the power of the community, the population of the community. There is no way to force them to stop completely, it will always find a way to survive. But The Capitol knows that, they know that by destroying both community and culture it will not make their slaves susceptible to whatever propaganda they inflict upon them. There needs to be hope, and culture and traditions bring that. It also was a way to make sure that only the tradition survives (not thrives!!!), but is understood and properly practiced. Which means that by having it be more openly practiced, it eventually leads to it being open to bastardization by the oppressors. It’s a vicious cycle.

With those Capitol officials who go to 2: yes, there is oppression of community in the power they hold, but there was more ridicule than an overall attempt to end the practices. I’d like to think of it as to how Snow thought of the bread tradition, as foolish and a waste of food. Those Capitol officers would see these hordes of people basically praying to rocks and think of them as fools with no self-identity, seeing how the Stones are seen as that person, where they are a marker of personhood and personality rather than who they “really are.”

Now, the FIRST SONG! You have truly rewired my brain here. It sounds very “traditional”, I’m not sure how else to say it. I guess what I mean is authentic. My favorite verse has got to be this one: And in come new folk, bold and strong No hammer or pickaxe Just guns and armor, waving banners of country flag Ain’t got no space to hold ‘em, but they make space themselves Takin’ our homes, our pride, our love, our work They don’t do much in mountain-land ‘sides work us to the bone I think you hit the nail on the head when it came to the opinions of the Cutters on the new coming peacekeepers. I appreciate that you think there is a genuine physical divide between the Keepers and the Cutters, because I think that may be the only way that the Capitol could prevent riots and constant class tension between the industries. Also an excellent critique on the Capitol's imperialism.

Fun fact: I almost cut that entire segment out completely! I originally was going to have it be from “keep our kin close at hand” to “make my people proud” up until the end with “someday when we are free” and have that be the end. But I realized that because I have my running theme of D2 songs being historical, I needed a verse to be more present and angry at the change in their district, in an effort to show how much has changed by the time it’s sung throughout the years! And I love this verse! There’s a part of me that wants there to a mixed of forced physical community among the Cutters and the Keepers to show how much of an invading presence they are and how it’s said in Mockingjay that many stonecutter working locations like the mine and quarries shifted into housing and training spaces for the Keepers. But another part of me knows that by keeping them separated would not only be consistent with othering each group against the other.

Here’s the thing. I have been thinking about this story for 11 years. It has been a part of my being for a very long time, regardless of me publicizing it. And because it has been with me for so long, I’ve definitely taken bits and pieces of my life and certain cultural aspects and imbedded it into the story as time has gone on. But it’s all really been a subconscious decision, I don’t realize I’ve done that until well after the fact (I do have a literal processing disorder, so that tracks). I can say that to my knowledge, I haven’t taken real historical examples and developed them into something. However, I have definitely taken certain cultural aspects of my life or my loved ones life with me and put that in. So like how Saying Your Stones has transferred from being individual to communal, I inverted that from my own personal life of having grown up in saying my late-night prayers with my grandparents to now only saying it on occasion. For Home Names, I think of that as how one of my Tia’s always gave us nicknames that have stuck the test of time and is used among family. Even the death tradition of The Rock, I can always attribute to tracing my grandfathers name on his tombstone when I went to go visit him on my second to last trip to El Salvador, and only returned 15 years later, last year! So no, I don’t base it in history unless it’s going to be some physical thing (like stone associations with onyx, for example), I base it on parts of my life that I’ve lost and don’t want to regain but remember.

#IN THIS ESSAY I WILL!!!!!#this was soooooo much fun to write! I'm gonna hold onto your ask in my notes app to admire forever #thank you so much for this‚ Grace! I really loved doing this #I hope you enjoy Snowfall & I can't wait for your ask on it! I love yapping about my babies lol #all I do is yap #me #my post #the hunger games #thg #district 2 #d2 lore #Silly OC Thoughts #Snowfall Upon Sophroniscus

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