#loaksully

℘ ──── contains: nsfw and sfw, drabbles, fic series/multiple works, works with < 1k works, works with > 1k words. continue at your own risk! enjoy! :) ──── ℘

SUMMARY: You can’t accept your mates’ death, and Lo’ak knocks that one piece of information to your head

WARNINGS: angst, yelling, crying, mentions of death of a loved one, fluff at the end

You were there with the Sully’s when his parents released Neteyam for good, and his death is the only thing keeping you from doing whatever daily campaign you attend. It was really a shame that you hadn’t participated in the war against the sky people, you could have saved him as a trained medic.

A never ending pool of tears would be the only thing that stayed by your side four days after his funeral.

That was until Lo’ak took the initiative to come and see you in such a downy state.

“You can’t be such a lonely fuck forever girl.” He leaned on the entrance of your Mauri, arms crossed, waiting in anticipation for an answer from you. You turned your head to face him.

“Turns out I can be a lonely fuck.” You raised your eyes up to the sky while turning away from him.

“We miss you, Y/N. You gotta let him go..” He said, pushing himself off of the doorframe and headed over to you. “We can be a full friend group again, and I promise you, we will help you get better.”

Lo’ak’s words made you think of Neteyam’s presence, how he’s still here, with you, with his family, with his friends. “Full friend group.. with Neteyam..” You believed.

“No- Y/N I didn’t mean that.”

“Neteyam is still here, with us, Lo’ak.” You smiled, you started to fill with joy, but that was until Lo’ak decided to click you back to reality.

“No! Y/N! Neteyam is not here anymore, he won’t ever come back! Please! Just accept it.” He yelled, finishing off with a softening tone while holding your forearms. You started trembling, feeling the tears and grief warm up to your cheeks once again. Lo’ak barely had any time to process your shaking figure before looking up at you, pure horror and sadness crossing your face, before he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry.. Y/N.” He held a hand to the back of your head.

“No- no I am.. I should have gotten over him the second he was taken by Eywa.” You slowly stopped shaking, but the tears you’ve been holding back started to fall, that’s when you really needed the comfort and hugged Lo’ak back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked you. He felt a twinge of guilt slash his heart at the fact that you had been suffering along without any comfort from anyone, that’s why you haven’t gotten over his brother’s death.

While you were alone, Lo’ak had his family, which is why he recovered so fast. He felt so sorry that he had to leave you alone for so long, so he decided to give you an offer, comfort.

[And Neytiri, as much as I hate it, is right: none of us can run, so all of us must fight.]

The salvation of Pandora is too much for one clan, let alone a family. The Sullys have decided that to win against the Sky People, the Na'vi must come together and fight not as individual nations, but as the single soul of Eywa.

But first, Neteyam must be healed and Lo'ak… Found.

A fanfiction for James Cameron's AVATAR, taking place after AVATAR: The Way of Water, except our boy Neteyam lives on. #justiceforourboyneteyam

The Barrens (as the Anurai called it) weren’t as plain as Lo’ak first believed the night he found himself with Layaki and Co’sai. As they ventured on, what was once flat rock became a tumultuous terrain – the earth was slashed with mouths that seemed to reach no end and canyons that snaked around cliffs so tall, they blocked out the sun. It then made more sense to him why the Oso’i were slow: one false step could lead to death.

“Hold on and do not look down,” Co’sai taunted. They were making their way down the side of a cliff, the footholds barely wide enough for their animals. Of course, Lo’ak automatically glanced over the edge. Below was nothing but darkness; a pit created with another cliff just yards away from the one they were on. His fingers tensed over Layaki’s shoulder and the wrist in his sling pinged from the sudden flex of his fist. It was an instant regret.

“Close your eyes, that might be better,” Layaki said. Lo’ak did not need to be told twice. He kept his eyes shut for what felt like a couple of hours, his anxieties easily fighting off any temptation to fall asleep. Then, almost scaring him to death, Co’sai loudly sang a string of notes that bounced off of the rocks around them.

“What was that?” Lo’ak asked.

“It is to tell them we are home,” Lo’ak’s ears perked up as if to say ‘really? We’re here?’

“You may open your eyes now,” Layaki finished. Slowly, Lo’ak’s eyes fluttered open.

Both of the cliff sides fanned out into platforms, a wide wicker bridge weaving them together. Torches were lit on either side: beacons that marked the entrance into the Anurai's village. Past it, Lo’ak could make out slopes that ran down to other naturally formed platforms and nooks that looked like half-formed caves. Flames danced everywhere, which made it hard for him to believe that it was still only noon. The village was an amalgamation of nature and Na’vi-made structures, creating a mix-matched world in which the Anurai have used the cliffs as a kind of guide or foundation – they had built around and with what they were given. Co’sai sang another string of notes.

“Now what does that mean?” Lo’ak looked over Layaki’s shoulder at Co’sai, who seemed pleased with his vocals.

“That we have a… prisoner,” Layaki answered. Na’vi faces began to peek out of crevices and huts, peering up at them as they made their way down. 'Prisoner' did not sit well at all with Lo’ak, but in light of the circumstances there was no other way to put it. A handful of the Anurai made their way to the entrance, their deep blue skins glimmering with a hue of purple by the firelight. The Oso’i stopped in front of them. Co’sai spoke to the people and they listened with eyes trained on Lo’ak. Layaki intervened, probably to clarify that Lo’ak was not a ‘prisoner’, but a ‘guest’ of sorts.

The crowd gave way as Co’sai, Layaki, and Lo’ak slid down to the ground, parting like fish around a predator. Lo’ak stared directly ahead, looking only at the back of Co’sai’s head as they made their way down the wicker path. Co’sai and Layaki passed their satchels off to a few men, giving instructions in their language before continuing on. At the very end of the bridge that spanned the abyss, was a place where the two cliffs met, creating a semi-vast platform of stone in which the largest hut was built. The walls were of direhorse leather and the doorway was the skull of a large animal that Lo’ak had never seen before. Its rows of teeth on the bottom jaw had the front canines removed as though to form a path into the home. Co’sai sang again, a low tune that echoed through the firelight. Lo’ak pressed his lips together, his heart beginning to race. If he was refused by the Olo’eyktan, he might as well be dead. The leather curtain parted.

A tall, broad-shouldered Na’vi stepped forth, dressed with pieces of leather and bone. His hair fell to his shoulders in braids, held together by beads of carefully carved materials that Lo’ak couldn’t place. A headband wrapped around the width of his head with fangs as their centrepiece. His eyes were the gleaming silver of daggers.

“Rai’lu.” Co’sai and Layaki bowed and Lo’ak quickly followed suit. Rai’lu nodded.

“We have found this Na’vi in the Barrens, fallen from the sky and separated from his family,” Layaki stated. Rai’lu scanned the boy, his gaze stopping on his hands.

“And who are you?” He asked, his voice a deep baritone sound. Lo’ak blinked. He did not expect such a direct question.

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, son of the Omaticaya’s Toruk Macto,” Lo’ak replied. Rai’lu frowned.

“No. Who are you,” he asked again. Lo’ak’s brow furrowed. What the hell does that even mean? He felt Layaki and Co’sai looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“Just Lo’ak, sir,” he meekly said. Rai’lu stood straighter, as if the answer was almost appalling.

“And what do you need of the Anurai?”

“Help to find my family. We were looking for the Olangi Clan before I was lost – if I can be brought to them, that is all I need.” A second of silence. Rai’lu looked from Co’sai to Layaki, again communicating as if words were not enough. Lo’ak clenched his jaw.

“The Olangi are a traveling people. In order to return you, we must find them and even then, we do not know how long that would take,” Rai’lu thought aloud, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We can send a Varsh to search and send word – have them come to us,” Layaki interjected. A day later, when they were alone, Layaki explained that a Varsh was a bird that could carry messages relayed through a bond.

“And while we wait?” Rai’lu asked. To Lo’ak’s surprise, it was Co’sai that spoke next.

“We can always use an extra hand.”

Just like that, Rai’lu consented and Lo’ak blew out a breath of relief. Rai’lu instructed Layaki to go and make arrangements with a Varsh to fly out before dawn the next day. Co’sai was to check the rations and materials so that one more mouth was accounted for.

“And you,” he looked at Lo’ak.

“You stay with me. No other home here can accommodate another.”

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That night, Rai’lu sat Lo’ak down in the middle of the home and told the story of his people. As artisans and craftsmen, their creations were intricate, beautiful, and highly coveted by the Sky People. Their sculptures, tools, art… Everything seemed to be of high value for the aliens. At first, they were satisfied with what they could be given, but over time those open hands came with requests, and those requests quickly turned into orders. At gunpoint, the Anurai lived like factory workers, fashioning whatever was asked of them at the condition that their sacred stones (the sculptures of their history) and spirit tree were not touched. They slaved away, their weak and elderly meeting death earlier than Eywa would have wanted due to exhaustion.

“Even then, it was not enough,” Rai’lu said.

In the middle of an eclipse, the clan was raided for all that they owned. Rai’lu’s father had instructed Rai’lu to take all the children and those of his generation far, far away, and by morning, all that had remained of their home was mere ash and smoke. The fight was useless: they were no match for the aliens' machinery.

Rai’lu then took Lo’ak’s wrist and held his palm up between their faces. Their stares locked on to each other.

“I do not trust you. Toruk Macto means nothing here. If I find that you bring harm to my people, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?”

Lo’ak’s eyes burned. His throat felt as though it were closing up on itself.

“Understood, sir.”

Rai’lu dropped his hand and with a nod, gestured to one of the leather curtains to the side.

“That is your room. You may go,” he said. Lo’ak did not have to be told twice. He got up, said his formalities, and disappeared behind the curtain.

“Spider?” A muffled whisper had pierced through the boy's sleep-ridden head. Spider grumbled as he shifted onto his other side.

“Spider!” The voice was Kiri’s – it was clearer now and it was enough to shake him awake. His eyes darted open and he bolted upright, looking around frantically.

He was all alone.

It took a moment for his memory to shake off sleep and recall that the Sullys had left their base of operations just a few days ago in search of the Olangi clan. They were gone. Kiri was gone. He rubbed at his eyes. Why did it feel as though it had been an eternity since then?

He got up from bed and wandered over into the “dream-walker’s lab”, as he and the Sullys liked to call it. Norm was at his usual desk, going over the lab reports regarding daily life on Pandora: it was one of the many things he reveled in doing ever since Jake placed him in charge of it. 

"Morning, sunshine," he said over his shoulder. Spider mumbled a sleepy 'good morning' back as he took a seat by one of the great windows that overlooked the Omaticaya stronghold and the cliffs that hovered outside. One which overlooked a world that was so vast, he was nothing but an ant running around in it.He raised his hand to the level of his face, eyes tracing the blue paint he had drawn all over himself. Then, he curled it into a fist and punched the glass. Norm's head whipped to him, confused at such an outburst so early in the day.

"You okay there?"

“I should’ve went with them,” Spider said.

No matter how much time he had spent with the Sullys, he will always be an outsider: from demon’s blood, as they say in Na’vi. When they ran across the mountains, scaled trees, or hunted, he had to exert himself to the point of exhaustion just to keep up. And when he couldn’t, the widening gap between him and the others was a piercing ache in his heart; a reminder that he was not like them. That he will always be separated by a mask.

“Well without your own Ikran that wouldn’t have been the best,” Norm replied a little too bluntly, which earned an eyeroll from Spider. He turned from the window and walked over to Norm’s side to glance over the reports. Having been practically raised like a Na’vi, he was Norm’s go-to-guy for any questions on the wildlife and cultures of Pandora. However, rather than the papers filled from top to bottom with text, his eyes found themselves looking at something else entirely. It was a screen depicting a diagram of the body of a young Na’vi in a tube, similar to the one they used to keep Grace’s avatar alive. Spider tilted his head in confusion, traces of any anger gone from his face.

“Who’s that?” He asked. Norm merely chuckled at how quickly the boy’s mood had shifted.

“Your avatar body seems to be growing nicely,” he said.

Spider froze.

There was no way.

They didn’t even have the resources they needed up there to create any more avatars.

His eyes snapped to Norm.

“You’re kidding,” he said. Norm finally turned to look at him, unable to hide his grin any longer.

“Not one bit, kid.” The confirmation knocked the wind out of Spider. His chest felt as though it were about to give way, but also explode at the same time. His mouth laughed, yet his eyes watered – is that what pure happiness is supposed to feel like? He threw his arms around Norm’s shoulders, squeezing so tight that Norm fell into a fit of coughs.

“Alright alright, I get it, you’re welcome,” Norm managed. Spider released him and picked up the screen from the desk. It showed the body of a child avatar writhing in its container, but it was alive and real. He heard it: its heartbeat. His heartbeat.

“You’re lucky Jake was able to secure a lab like this for us early on. Pretty soon you’ll be able to try establishing a connection with it just to test out if you’re really ready to join the Sully kids,” Norm said. He gave Spider a pat on the back as a tear fell from Spider’s chin.

“You kidding me Norm? I am Na’vi. I was born for this.”

Norm nodded at Spider’s enthusiasm for his avatar, but the boy’s strong disregard for his human side creased Norm’s brow. No matter how much Norm loved Pandora and the Na’vi, he was still human. Sure, people do fucked up things, but… doesn’t everybody? Don’t the Na’vi, who would rather kill than surrender their pride? Norm forced the thoughts out of his head. He’d been waiting years for this moment – he shouldn’t spoil it for himself. Nor should he spoil it for Spider.

“Just a few more days of development. While waiting, I’ll get you up to speed on what to expect.”

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A long way away from the Omaticaya Stronghold, another military base had been set up by the Sky People. Quaritch’s radio had been picking up its signals, and after hours of flying he had finally found it. Soldiers and marines setting up camp in different locations was nothing new; the practice came naturally with trying to conquer new territory. He was just glad to finally start seeing some familiar faces after months of solitude.

He landed his ikran near one of the guard posts and was immediately met with hostility: soldiers rushed to him, weapons up and aimed. Orders were being yelled over the mighty flapping of his ikran’s wings. Insect-like robots halted their work and scuttled out of the way. Quaritch nonchalantly told them to settle down as he held his hands up to reassure them that he was an avatar. Their avatar. It was only when General Ardmore approached in her exo-skeleton suit that the soldiers lowered their weapons. Quaritch hopped off his mount.

“Colonel Miles Quaritch, returning for duty,” He said, saluting her and only her. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Colonel, we cannot have untamed creatures like that in the base. We are already lacking manpower – we cannot afford to have any devoured,” she said. Quaritch grimaced.

“Apologies ma’am, but anyone as much as grazes my ride can expect my fist up their asses,” he replied. It’s like having a dog, he told himself. The general squinted. Her eyes were cold and unwavering, piercing Quaritch’s as if looking for a tear in his resolve. He did not flinch.  A deep and coarse voice then cut into the scene between them.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing Colonel. No one is insane enough to approach an ikran. Well, no one human that is." 

An unknown avatar began walking towards them through the men in arms, his stride sure and precise. He wore the usual military-esq cargo pants, but Quaritch caught an unfamiliar tattoo of a sigil that ran along the man’s shoulders up until his forearms. To the untrained eye, he looked marine, but Quaritch knew that he wasn’t.

“And who might you be, son?” Quadritch addressed the young avatar cautiously.

“Hresvelg company, PMC. Been tasked to be your new second in command," the avatar replied. Quadritch scoffed at the idea of working with PMCs (Private Military Corporations). The bastards used any and all methods to get a mission done – methods that could make even Quaritch’s stomach turn. Marines were killers, but at least they had rules. Structure. The scars lying underneath the avatar’s many tattoos were like a warning bell that this man had seen the worst of anarchy.

“Heard great things about you sir. It would be my honour to work alongside you and watch you up close. I used to be in the Rangers, but got honourably discharged after a… Questionable decision. Been with Hresvelg ever since.” As the man talked, Quadritch still couldn’t shake off the odd feeling he was getting from him – the man didn’t even bother to give out his name.