#Glow-in-the-Dark Bead Patterns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonselune · 1 month

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Dark!BG3 | My Doll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The grand chamber was bathed in the soft glow of opulent chandeliers, their light reflecting off the richly adorned walls and luxurious fabrics that draped the room. The scent of incense and exotic perfumes filled the air, mingling with the muted tones of classical music that played faintly in the background. Minthara’s personal quarters had been transformed into a private salon for the evening, a space that had become a shrine to her taste and power.

You stood at the center of this lavish room, surrounded by a flurry of activity as servants and attendants bustled around you. Minthara herself was a striking figure, her presence commanding attention as she watched with an air of anticipation. Her eyes, dark and gleaming with a mix of authority and affection, never left you as you were transformed into her perfect vision of elegance.

The first outfit was a deep crimson gown, its fabric rich and heavy, adorned with intricate patterns of black embroidery. As you stepped into the dress, the weight of the fabric felt like a reminder of Minthara's control.

The gown’s skirt flared dramatically, brushing against the floor as you moved. The bodice was fitted tightly, emphasizing your form, while a high collar added an air of regal sophistication. The color scheme was unmistakably Minthara’s: red and black, the hues of her dominion.

Minthara stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she inspected you from head to toe. She circled around you, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric, adjusting and smoothing with practiced precision. Her touch was both intimate and commanding, a constant reminder of her ownership.

“No, no,” Minthara said, her voice a smooth purr of discontent. “This won’t do. It’s missing that certain… finesse.”

With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to her attendants, who quickly began to assist you in changing. The crimson gown was removed, and you were draped in the next ensemble: a black dress with a daring slit that exposed more of your skin than the first. The neckline plunged dramatically, and delicate red beading formed intricate patterns across the fabric. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but Minthara’s approving smile made the discomfort bearable.

Once again, Minthara’s scrutiny was intense. She examined you with a critical eye, her expression a blend of approval and dissatisfaction. “Better,” she murmured, “but still not quite right.”

The process repeated itself, each new outfit showcasing a different aspect of Minthara’s aesthetic. You wore a gown with a high-low hemline, the skirt cascading in layers of black tulle and red silk. Another time, you were adorned in a tailored suit that highlighted your form with its sharp, clean lines and dramatic red accents. Each outfit was more elaborate than the last, each adjustment made to ensure you embodied Minthara’s vision perfectly.

Hours passed, the constant changing of clothes becoming a test of endurance. But you remained calm, accepting each new ensemble with grace, knowing that this was part of your role in her world. Minthara’s delight and satisfaction with each iteration made the process easier to endure.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of fittings and adjustments, Minthara declared that she was satisfied. She clapped her hands, summoning the attendants to finalize your look.

They brought out a final accessory: a bejeweled collar, meticulously crafted with red and black stones that formed a delicate pattern around your neck. At the center of the collar was a pendant engraved with Minthara’s initials, a mark of your complete subjugation to her.

As you looked in the mirror, you saw yourself fully transformed into Minthara’s vision. The reflection was a striking image of her colors and style—red and black. The collar around your neck was a permanent reminder of your place, a symbol of your devotion and submission. Your hair was styled to perfection, complementing the overall look and adding to the aura of elegance and obedience that you now embodied.

Minthara stepped behind you, her fingers gently brushing against your shoulders. She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“There,” she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now you are truly mine, a perfect reflection of my desires and authority. You look magnificent, my little doll.”

You turned to face her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were alight with a mix of pride and possessiveness. With a final, approving nod, Minthara offered you her arm, guiding you gracefully towards the door.

“Come, my dear,” she said, her tone both commanding and affectionate. “We have a gala to attend, and I want everyone to see just how perfectly you are mine.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

In the opulent, dimly lit chamber of the cloister’s grand tailoring room, Shadowheart was immersed in the meticulous task of curating the perfect uniform for you. The room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and ornate furnishings, reflecting the wealth and power of her position.

You stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of garments and accessories that Shadowheart had deemed essential for your transformation. The process was more elaborate than you had anticipated, and her patience seemed to stretch as thin as the fabric she was scrutinizing. With each new outfit, you felt like a doll being dressed and undressed for the amusement of its owner.

Shadowheart’s eyes were sharp and discerning as she examined each piece, her expression a mix of contemplation and exacting standards. She would approach you, draping fabrics over your shoulders and adjusting the fit with a practiced hand. The clothing ranged from dark, elegant robes embroidered with intricate patterns to high-collared tunics and flowing skirts, each adorned with symbols of Shar that spoke to her influence and control.

The first few outfits were a blur of material and adjustment. You tried to remain compliant, but the process was exhausting. The layers of heavy fabric and constant changes began to wear on you, and your patience grew thin. As the hours wore on, you found yourself growing restless and defiant, your attempts to express your discomfort evident in your body language and terse replies.

Shadowheart noticed the shift in your demeanor with a frown. Her patience was equally thin, and she was determined to have you fit the perfect vision she had in mind. With a swift, practiced motion, she summoned her magic, her hands glowing with a dark, malevolent light. The room seemed to shiver as she cast her spell, an incantation that infused the air with an aura of command and control.

You felt the magic’s effect almost immediately. A soothing, yet unyielding calm settled over you, dulling your restlessness and rebellious thoughts. It was as if a weight had been lifted, but it had been replaced by a compelling sense of submission and compliance.

Your previously defiant posture softened, and a serene, pliant expression took its place. The resistance that had marked your movements was replaced by an obedient, almost docile demeanor.

Shadowheart observed this transformation with a satisfied smirk. She approached you, her eyes scanning your now receptive form with a critical yet approving gaze. “

There we go,” she said, her voice laced with both authority and satisfaction. “Much better. Now, let’s see how you fare in these last few garments.”

She continued her meticulous work, dressing you in a series of uniforms designed to reflect both your new role and her unyielding control. The garments were tailored to perfection, each piece accentuating your form and adhering to her strict standards. Shadowheart was a master of her craft, ensuring that every detail was flawless.

Each time you grew slightly restless or attempted to voice an opinion, she would subtly adjust her magic, reinforcing your compliance and soothing any rebellious thoughts. The process became smoother as your resistance faded completely, leaving you a willing participant in her vision.

After several hours of rigorous fittings and adjustments, Shadowheart finally declared herself satisfied. She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a sense of accomplishment as she surveyed you in the final ensemble—a striking combination of dark, elegant fabrics and intricate embroidery that marked you as a perfect reflection of her influence and authority.

“You look marvelous,” Shadowheart said, her tone carrying a blend of satisfaction and possessiveness. “You are now the embodiment of my will and the symbol of our cause, my love."

You nodded, your movements smooth and compliant, a stark contrast to the defiant spirit you had shown earlier. The transformation was complete, and as you gazed at your reflection, you could see the results of Shadowheart’s meticulous efforts—an image that perfectly represented her authority and your newfound role. Shadowheart approached you, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

“You have done well,” she said, her voice softening with an almost tender edge. "Come, let the cloister see us in all our glory."

As you followed her lead, the uniform you wore became a second skin, a symbol of your submission and her dominance. The process had been grueling, but the final result was a testament to Shadowheart’s unwavering control and your complete integration into her world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

In the opulent chamber that served as Gale’s domain within his realm, the ambiance was a blend of divine grandeur and meticulous attention to detail. The walls were adorned with shimmering tapestries depicting scenes of grandeur and ambition, and the air was filled with a faint, otherworldly glow that highlighted the majesty of the space. The large, ornate mirror in the center of the room reflected the elaborate setting, its surface gleaming with enchantments.

You stood in the center of the room, dressed in a simple yet elegant attire chosen for this occasion. Gale was preoccupied with perfecting the emblem that would symbolize your role by his side—a symbol that would embody your essence and his divine vision.

His attention to detail bordered on obsessive as he fussed over every aspect of the emblem, his eyes never leaving you as he examined the designs and elements that would represent you.

“Hold still,” Gale instructed with a tone of authority that brooked no argument. “The emblem must capture your essence perfectly. We cannot afford any mistakes.”

You did as instructed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and patience as Gale maneuvered you into various positions. He adjusted your posture, making minute corrections with an almost artistic precision. His fingers traced delicate patterns in the air, and his gaze was intense, as if he were trying to extract the very soul of your being.

Gale’s attention to detail was meticulous. He moved around you, occasionally stepping back to assess how you appeared from different angles. His eyes flickered with a blend of concentration and creative fervor as he compared the emblem’s design against your form. He muttered to himself, adjusting the insignia’s elements and ensuring they harmonized perfectly with your presence.

At one point, he repositioned you with a gentle but firm touch, guiding you into a new stance.

“No, no,” he murmured, his frustration evident. “Your posture needs to reflect the ambition we’re channeling. Stand taller, and hold your gaze with conviction. We need to capture the essence of your power and my divine influence.”

You complied, striving to embody the posture and poise he desired. The process felt almost like being sculpted, with Gale as both the artist and critic. His scrutiny was intense, and his corrections were precise. He adjusted the fabric of your attire, smoothed out imaginary wrinkles, and reoriented you to align with his vision.

Time seemed to stretch as Gale continued his work, his focus unwavering. He made several adjustments to the emblem, testing different designs and placements until he found the one that resonated with his divine sense of perfection. Each adjustment was accompanied by a thoughtful hum or a quiet exclamation of frustration when something didn’t meet his exacting standards.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Gale stepped back with a satisfied smile. He took in the final result, his eyes gleaming with the pride of a creator who had achieved his vision.

“There,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of triumph and relief. “That is it. The emblem is perfect. It captures your essence and embodies the ambition we both strive for.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, observing the emblem’s intricate design—a symbol of your role beside Gale, reflecting both his divine nature and your connection to him. The emblem glowed subtly, an ethereal representation of your union with the God of Ambition and your place as his muse.

Gale approached you, his demeanor softening as he gazed at you with an affectionate pride. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face in a gesture of tender affection.

“Thank you for enduring this process,” he said. “Your patience and poise have made this moment truly perfect.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The lavish chamber was a stark contrast to the anxiety that churned within you. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a grand chandelier cast a warm, golden light over the room. Astarion had spared no expense, the luxury surrounding you only amplifying your unease. This was the fourth tailor he had summoned, the others having met a grim fate for their perceived failures.

You stood in the center of the room, feeling like a mannequin as the tailor’s assistants fussed over you, taking measurements, adjusting fabrics, and pinning samples of the latest creation.

Astarion, lounging nearby with a glass of fine wine in hand, watched with a critical eye. His presence was as commanding as ever, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight, his crimson eyes tracking every movement.

The tailor worked in nervous silence, his hands trembling slightly as he presented the latest outfit for Astarion’s approval. It was a finely crafted piece, the fabric shimmering with a subtle, ethereal glow that hinted at the magic woven into its threads. But as soon as the tailor held it up for inspection, Astarion’s expression darkened.

“What is this?” Astarion’s voice was cold, his displeasure evident. He set his wine glass down with a deliberate clink, rising from his seat with a fluid grace that belied the menace in his movements.

The tailor stammered, his fear palpable. “M-my lord, I thought—”

“You thought?” Astarion interrupted, his tone laced with disdain. “You thought you could present such a pedestrian creation and pass it off as worthy of my beloved?”

You flinched at the edge in his voice, knowing what was to come. Your nerves were already frayed from the endless fittings and the constant fussing. You had tried to remain patient, but the compulsion he had placed on you was wearing thin.

Astarion turned to you, his gaze softening for a moment as he noticed your discomfort.

“Ah, my dear, I can see you’re growing restless,” he said, reaching out to gently caress your cheek. His touch was tender, yet he reimposed the compulsion with force. “But we must ensure that everything is perfect. You deserve nothing less.”

You nodded slightly, feeling the magic of his compulsion tighten around you, forcing you to remain still. The anxiety gnawed at you, but there was nothing you could do but comply. Astarion’s attention snapped back to the tailor.

“This will not do,” he declared, his voice cold once more. Before the tailor could react, Astarion moved with blinding speed, his hand flashing out to grasp the man’s throat.

The tailor gasped, his eyes wide with terror as Astarion lifted him off the ground with ease.

“I will not tolerate mediocrity,” Astarion hissed, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. With a swift, effortless motion, he snapped the tailor’s neck, letting the lifeless body drop to the floor.

You swallowed hard, the sight of yet another death turning your stomach. This was the fourth tailor he had killed, all in his relentless pursuit of perfection for you. You felt a mix of horror and resignation, knowing that this was the reality you lived in, a reality shaped by Astarion’s obsession with you.

Astarion turned to one of his servants, who had been standing silently by the door, awaiting orders.

“Bring in the next one,” he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. The servant bowed and hurried out of the room, leaving you alone with Astarion and the body of the tailor. You glanced at Astarion, who was already smoothing his hair back into place, his demeanor calm once more.

He noticed your gaze and smiled, though there was a hint of something darker in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, his tone almost soothing. “We’ll find the right one soon. I promise.”

You forced a small smile, knowing that there was no other choice. Astarion’s devotion to you was absolute, but it came at a cost—a cost you were forced to bear as he sought to mold you into his vision of perfection.

As the door opened again, and the next tailor was ushered in, you braced yourself for another round of fittings, knowing that you would remain still and compliant, just as Astarion wished.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The sun had barely risen when you found yourself in the grove, surrounded by the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. The scent of fresh earth filled your senses as you knelt beside a wounded fawn, carefully tending to its injuries. The little creature’s eyes reflected a trust that warmed your heart, even as the dull ache from your own wounds reminded you of the previous day’s events.

Halsin had insisted you rest, but staying cooped up inside felt suffocating. You needed this—needed the quiet, the peace, the distraction of caring for the injured animals that had always been your solace.

As you gently applied a salve to the fawn’s leg, a shadow fell over you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air grew heavier with Halsin’s presence, his towering form casting a long shadow over you and the garden.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was low, a mixture of concern and frustration, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You continued your work, trying to ignore the tension that had suddenly filled the space between you.

“I’m just helping,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “The animals need me.”

“They can wait,” Halsin said, his tone firm. He stepped closer, and you could feel his gaze boring into you. “You’re supposed to be resting. You were hurt.”

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I’m fine, Halsin. I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a gentleness that belied the strength behind it. He pulled you to your feet, towering over you as he looked down with a mix of concern and stern authority.

“You’re not invincible,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I am taking care of myself,” you argued, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you from moving.

Halsin’s eyes flashed with an intensity, and you knew you were treading dangerous ground. He had always been protective, but since the incident, that protectiveness had grown into something else—something more controlling, more suffocating. He was treating you like a porcelain doll, terrified that you would shatter at the slightest bump.

“You’re acting like a child,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “You’re hurt, and you’re out here risking further injury because you refuse to listen.”

“I’m not a child, Halsin,” you shot back, your own temper flaring. “I can take care of myself, and I don’t need you hovering over me every second.”

He sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation, and released your wrist. For a moment, you thought he might relent, but then he cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to look up at him. His expression was stern, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“You will rest,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And you will do as I say. I won’t lose you because you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself.”

The authority in his tone was undeniable, and you felt a surge of defiance rise within you. But just as quickly, it was smothered by the reality of your situation. Halsin wasn’t someone you could easily defy. He was strong, powerful, and his protectiveness—however suffocating—came from a place of genuine care. You knew that resisting him would only lead to him tightening his control over you further. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, your shoulders sagging in resignation.

“Fine,” you muttered, the fight draining out of you. “I’ll rest.”

Halsin’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with relief. “I just want to keep you safe.”

You stood there, trapped in his embrace, feeling a mixture of emotions—frustration, resignation, and a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. It was easier to give in, to let him protect you, even if it meant surrendering a little more of your freedom. The alternative was a struggle you weren’t sure you could win.

As he held you close, you wondered how much of yourself you would lose in the process of keeping the peace.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The grand chamber was bathed in soft, golden light as the sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the ornate furnishings and rich tapestries. The scent of oil paint and fresh flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the perfume you wore. In the center of the room, you sat perched on a velvet chaise, your posture rigid, as the painter worked diligently at his easel, his brush gliding across the canvas with practiced precision.

Wyll stood beside you, his gaze critical as he observed the progress of the portrait. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and you could feel his presence like a weight on your shoulders, even though he had yet to say a word. The painter, a nervous-looking man with a thin mustache and trembling hands, kept glancing at Wyll, clearly anxious under the scrutiny of the Grand Duke.

“Hmm,” Wyll finally murmured, stepping closer to you. His fingers brushed your cheek lightly before he tilted your chin slightly upwards, adjusting the angle of your head. “You’re looking a bit too stern, my dear. Try softening your expression.”

You obliged, relaxing the tension in your face and offering a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew that Wyll was enjoying this—reveling in the control he had over every detail of the portrait, and by extension, over you. It wasn’t the first time he had treated you like a doll, something to be posed and positioned just as he liked. But today, there was a particular gleam in his eye, a playful edge to his actions that made it clear he was having fun with it.

“No, no, this won’t do,” he muttered, stopping to adjust the drape of the fabric around your shoulders.

The gown you wore was exquisite, made of the finest silk and embroidered with delicate patterns of gold thread. But it wasn’t quite right for the image he wanted to create.

“Perhaps something more regal,” he mused aloud, turning to the servants who stood waiting in the corner. “Bring out the crimson velvet. I want something that matches their hair, something that will make them stand out even more.”

The painter hesitated, his brush still in mid-air as he watched the scene unfold. You caught his eye, offering him a reassuring smile, even as you resigned yourself to another round of adjustments. You could see the unease in his expression, the way he bit his lip as he glanced between you and Wyll, but he remained silent. No one dared to contradict the Grand Duke, especially not when he was in one of these moods.

The servants quickly brought out a new gown, a rich crimson velvet with intricate gold embroidery. Wyll personally helped you out of the first gown, his touch lingering on your skin as he peeled away the fabric. He took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Once you were dressed in the new gown, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Much better,” he declared, his tone laced with approval. “Now, let’s try this again.”

You returned to your position on the chaise, feeling the heavy weight of the velvet gown settle around you. The painter began anew, his brush moving quickly to capture the new look. Wyll, however, wasn’t done. He continued to fuss over every detail—the angle of your head, the position of your hands, the way the light caught your hair. Each time he made an adjustment, you complied, holding your pose as still as you could, though the strain was beginning to wear on you.

But you could see the joy in Wyll’s eyes, the way he seemed to relish in this exercise of power and control. There was a playfulness to it, a lightheartedness that you hadn’t seen in him for some time. So, despite the growing discomfort, you decided to indulge him. Just this once, you would let him have his fun.

Finally, after what felt like hours of repositioning and adjustments, Wyll seemed satisfied. He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the portrait taking shape on the canvas. The painter’s hand was steady now, the initial nervousness replaced by a focused determination to get everything just right.

“Perfect,” Wyll murmured, his voice soft with admiration. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re perfect, my love.”

You smiled up at him, though your muscles ached from holding the pose for so long.

“As long as you’re happy,” you replied, your voice tinged with a forced mix of amusement and affection. He chuckled, a warm, rich sound that filled the room.

“More than happy,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve made this portrait something truly special.”

As the painter continued his work, Wyll remained by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. You knew that this was more than just a portrait to him—it was a reflection of his power, his control, and the deep bond between you. And for today, you were content to let him have that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

So sorry to the nonnie that asked for this one, your ask got eaten by my inbox :((

But it is here now !!! Hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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vmpiires · 6 months

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﹆₊吸血鬼‧₊˚ TOLD HER BABY I EAT HUMANS, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ you encountered the famous vampire hunter. wc, 2.27K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. got this idea from a fanart i saw on twitter. MY LORD HE WAS FINE..erm anyway,, JOIN THE DISCORD AND THANKS AGAIN FOR 400 FOLLOWERS. hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meee

␥ tags. vampire AU, half-vampire vampire hunter!choso, female anatomy, blood, light smut (?), etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

the cathedral stood tall and imposing, its intricate stone façade glimmering in the moonlight. each stained-glass window depicted a different biblical scene, casting colorful patterns on the ground below. inside, the soft murmur of hushed prayers from the townspeople reverberated through the halls, creating a serene ambiance. but choso's purpose for being there was not to pray.

his heavy footsteps echoed through the cavernous halls as he made his way through the dimly lit crypt, guided only by flickering candlelight. the musty smell of ancient bones and earth filled his nostrils, sending shivers down his spine.

choso cut an imposing figure, his tall frame draped in a black cassock that nearly fell to his ankles with black pants underneath. a matching mozzetta hung from his shoulders, fluttering in the air as he walked, adding a sense of solemnity in his presence.

his black boots were sturdy and well-worn, a testament to the countless hunts he'd been on over the years since the church recruited him. his black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, letting his bangs hang just above his eyes, revealing his pale skin. and his violet eyes were piercing, they seemed to glow with an inner fire.

across the bridge of his nose, a blood mark stood out, a stark reminder of his vampiric nature. a battle he waged within himself. around his neck hung his rosary, a symbol of his faith, which he wielded as fearlessly as any weapon.

the hunter's struggle with his vampiric nature was a constant battle. despite his determination to suppress his undying thirst for human blood, he could still feel the deep-seated urges simmering beneath the surface. he likened it to a constant humming in the back of his mind, a temptation that was always there, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

it took every ounce of willpower to resist the pull of his instincts. choso had finally developed several coping mechanisms over the years, from meditation and prayer to sheer force of will. but still, the thirst lingered, his mouth suddenly going dry at the sight of a human and the distinct smell of their blood, imagining the flavor.

as choso continued to make his way through the crypt, his senses remained on high alert. he could feel the weight of silence, the chill of the stone walls, and the oppressive air of the tomb. but what captivated his attention was the scent of human blood.

his steps faltered as a sudden wave of hunger washed over him. his fangs ached to sink into soft flesh, his body craved the sweet taste of blood. he closed his eyes, willing the thirst to subside. he couldn't afford to lose control, not here.

the hunter's body was tense, his breaths shallow and controlled as he focused on calming himself. he reached for his rosary, the smooth beads cool against his skin, a symbol of strength and protection. in his mind, he conjured the faces of those he had sworn to defend - innocent men, women, and children who relied on him for their safety. with each bead he passed through his fingers, the hunger that threatened to overtake him slowly began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache in its wake.

choso's eyes snapped open as he sensed movement in the shadows once again. he whirled around, his hand instinctively reaching for the blessed dagger made from his own blood at his hip. that's when he saw you, the human he had been sensing, huddled in the corner of the crypt.

for a moment, he was struck by your vulnerability, your fragile humanity. but then his gaze was drawn to the pulse beating in your neck, the blood flowing beneath your skin. he felt the thirst rising again, stronger this time, harder to resist.

choso took a step towards you, his eyes locked on yours. he could see the fear in them, the knowledge of what he was. he felt a sudden shame, a revulsion at his own nature. but still, the hunger gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the character he tried to suppress.

he stopped a few feet away from you, his body trembling with the effort of resisting the urge to feed. "what are you doing here?" he growled, his voice low and threatening. "it's not safe down here...not for someone like you."

the man's gaze flickered around the crypt, taking in the dusty tombs and the eerie silence. choso's mind was racing, trying to piece together how you had ended up in such a place. had you been lured here by another vampire? or did you sneak in?

he took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "you need to go," he said, his tone firm. "now, before you get into some trouble." even as he spoke, he could feel the thirst rising again, reminding him of the danger he posed.

silently, without another word passing between you and the hunter, you swiftly exited the cold and dusty crypt, choso’s mozzetta fluttering behind him as a draft flew by him. your footsteps echoed through the dark tunnels as you made your way back to the main floor of the church, leaving the solitary hunter behind in his thoughts.

the smell of damp stone and old incense filled your nostrils as you ascended the stairs, anxious to escape the unsettling atmosphere of the crypt. finally, you emerged into the warm light of the cathedral, relieved to be once again surrounded by familiar surroundings.

choso watched you go, his body tense and coiled like a spring. he didn't relax until he heard the soft click of the crypt door closing behind you. only then did he let out a ragged breath, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

he sank to his knees, his head in his hands. he felt drained, both physically and emotionally. he had come so close to losing control and biting you, to becoming the thing he had sworn to fight against.

the male stayed like that for a long time, until the muffled sounds of footsteps in the church above finally spurred him into action. he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. he knew he had a job to do, and he couldn't let his own weaknesses get in the way.

choso looked like a fallen angel, his pale skin glowing in the light streaming through the stained glass windows the following morning. the nuns fussed around him, their adoration plain to see. but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought.

he sat in the pews, his gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling above him. his white collared shirt open, revealing a hint of his toned chest. his hair was tied back as usual, but a few stray strands had escaped, framing his face.

his thoughts kept returning to the events of the night before, to you, the human he saved. he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the others.

he closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. he needed to focus on his mission, on his duty as a vampire hunter. but your face kept intruding on his thoughts, your fear and vulnerability etched into his memory.

choso's thoughts were interrupted by movement at the sound of the church doors opening. he turned his head, his gaze instantly drawn to you as you walked down the aisle in his direction.

his eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a jolt of something he couldn't quite identify. you looked different in the daylight, your features softened by the warm sunlight streaming through the windows.

as you drew closer to choso, your steps faltered, and your eyes showed a mixture of uncertainty and genuine gratitude. but he could also see the fear in your gaze, knowing the potential danger he posed to you with his presence. his sharp features were set in a stern expression, adding to the tension between you both. as you stood before him, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken understanding of the risks involved in this encounter.

with a deep inhale, he attempted to steady his racing heart and regain control of his emotions. "i distinctly remember warning you to stay away from this place," he started in a rough, gravelly voice. his eyes narrowed as he scanned the intruder standing before him. "what are you doing here?" the air seemed to crackle with tension as his words hung heavy in the stillness of the abandoned building.

you instinctively took a step back, feeling the weight of choso's presence and the depth of their emotions. "i needed to see you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i wanted to say thank you for what you did last night."

the words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. the air was thick with tension as you waited for his response, uncertain of how he would react to your thanks. despite the distance between you, the intensity of your feelings bridged the gap and connected you in that moment.

you leaned in, your voice still barely above a whisper. "but i wanted to ask you something," you prompted. "in private." your words hung in the air, creating a sense of mystery and intrigue. the soft glow of the sun peering through the window illuminated the faint outlines of your face as you waited for their response.

choso looked at you, his expression unreadable. "no, there's no time for that," he said firmly. "you need to go before something happens and you need to stay away."

with your chin held high, you stood your ground. "no," your voice was shaking but determined. "i need to talk to you. it's important."

the hunter hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. he knew he needed to protect you, but he also couldn't ignore the urgency of the situation. "fine," he said finally, his voice tight. "but make it quick."

with a firm grip, he snatched you by the hand and urgently led you into an empty room, away from the curious eyes of the parishioners flooding in. as soon as the door slammed shut, choso wasted no time in closing the distance between you. his breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in close, his dark eyes burning with intensity.

choso’s voice was filled with urgency as he spoke. it echoed off the stone walls and reverberated through the dark room. "what is it?" he questioned, his eyes searching yours for answers. "what could possibly be so important that you would risk your life to come here and tell me?" the tension in the air was palpable as you hesitated before revealing your question. every word was like a fragile thread that could unravel at any moment.

the question had been nagging at you since the moment you left the cathedral. "how come you didn't bite me when you saw me?" the words escaped your lips before you could even think about it. choso turned to look at you, his widening with surprise at your query. "why did you decide to let me go instead?"

your tone was curious, almost amused. you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, what made him spare your life when he could have easily ended it right then and there. the air around you felt heavy as you stood before the hunter, awaiting his response.

choso hadn't expected you to be so direct with him, so perceptive. but before he could answer, he felt his mouth go dry with thirst rising within him, more powerful than it had ever been. he took a step towards you, his violet eyes glowing with desire. he knew he shouldn't, aware that it was dangerous, but he couldn't resist.

"because..." he whispered, his voice strained. "i couldn't."

without thinking, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, fueled by his desire for blood and something else he couldn't quite identify.

your body stiffened in surprise, but then you found yourself melting against him, returning the kiss with equal fervor. for only a moment, choso had forgotten about everything except for the taste of your lips and the thirst welling up inside him.

choso lifted you with ease and gently placed you onto the cleared desk in the room. his lips traveled from yours to your neck, pressing soft kisses against your skin and occasionally nibbling on it, leaving a trail of marks behind. each touch sent shivers down your spine and your pulse quickened as you let out quiet moans, struggling to contain your growing desire.

the sensation of his warm breath on your neck only added to the intensity of the moment. the room was filled with the scent of passion and anticipation, as bodies pressed together in a dance of pleasure. choso's hands roamed over your body, igniting every nerve with his touch.

the sensation of his warm breath on your neck only added to the moment’s intensity. the room was filled with the scent of passion and anticipation, as bodies pressed together in a dance of pleasure. choso's hands roamed over your body, igniting every nerve with his touch.

while his lips pressed against your neck, you felt a sharp pinch on your skin, followed by a faint slurping sound. choso's mouth and shirt were now stained with your blood, causing your eyes to widen in shock. before you could even process what had happened, he pulled away and kissed you again with an urgent hunger, his actions more desperate and forceful than before.

you could feel the warmth of your own blood mingling with his saliva as the taste of iron filled your mouth. the intensity of the moment sent shivers down your spine, both from fear and a strange sense of pleasure that you couldn't quite explain.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

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thegatesofsilverandbone · 3 months

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Jack had always been an ordinary man—middle-aged, white, and comfortably settled into his routine as an office worker in a small, quiet town. His vacation to a remote tropical island was a break from his monotonous life. Little did he know, this trip would change him forever.

While wandering through a bustling local market, Jack's eyes were drawn to a stall selling an array of vibrant, handmade jewelry. One necklace, in particular, caught his attention—a bead necklace, with an intricate pattern and a seemingly otherworldly glow. The old vendor behind the stall, with a mysterious smile, assured Jack that the necklace was unique and possessed ancient powers.

Intrigued and amused, Jack bought the necklace and put it on. As he walked away, a strange sensation washed over him. It started as a warm tingle around his neck, spreading through his body. He shrugged it off, attributing it to the tropical heat. However, the sensation grew stronger, becoming an intense heat that seemed to radiate from the necklace itself.

Jack found a secluded spot on the beach, away from the market's noise, and sat down, trying to catch his breath. The transformation began in earnest. His skin tingled, and he watched in astonishment as it darkened to a rich, sun-kissed tan. His body hair thickened, spreading across his chest, arms, and legs. His muscles swelled, growing firm and defined, giving him a physique he had never possessed before.

His beard grew out, becoming lush and neatly styled, complementing his now dark, wavy hair. Jack's face transformed too—his features sharpened, his jawline becoming more pronounced. His eyes changed, adopting a mischievous sparkle that reflected his new identity.

As the transformation progressed, Jack's memories began to shift. The memories of his life as an office worker faded, replaced by a new history. He remembered growing up on the island, learning its secrets and becoming a skilled tour guide. He recalled countless adventures, charming tourists with his knowledge and charisma. He also remembered his side job as a gigolo, a role he embraced with confidence and pride.

By the time the transformation was complete, Jack—now Juan—stood up, feeling completely at ease in his new skin. The bead necklace, which had facilitated his transformation, no longer glowed but rested comfortably against his chest. Juan adjusted his beaded necklace, feeling a deep connection to it, though he no longer remembered buying it at the market.

He made his way back to the market, now fully integrated into his new life. He greeted the old vendor with a knowing smile, but the vendor just nodded, as if everything had gone according to plan. Juan's new life awaited him, filled with sun, adventure, and the thrill of guiding tourists through the wonders of the island.

And as he led a new group of tourists, Juan couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging, as if this was the life he was always meant to lead.

#transformation

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liridusart · 4 months

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Again.

ID: A digital drawing of Homura Akemi for Madoka Magica in her magical girl outfit, crawling up a black, staircase, with stained glass-esque patterns. Her clothes are tattered, and she is bruised. There are pools of blood and bloody handprints on the stairs below her. The staircase is in front of a patchwork of asymmetric, angular, grayscale patterned panel pieces joined by dark purple beads. The stairs lead up to a glowing light pink door, with sparkles and hearts in the glow. The glow extends, becoming darker and wisping over the staircase. END ID.

#Pmmm #homura akemi #madoka magica #pmmm homura #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm fanart #akemi homura #madoka magica fanart #art #fanart #illustration

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five-rivers · 6 months

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Season of the Skies

I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!

Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?

Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.

He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought. The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes. His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm. On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.

The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae. Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go. Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.

At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms. The shawl was huge on him. An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind. Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.

He landed safely and straightened the cape. His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white. Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange. Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.

“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below. “Hey, Fentwerp! What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Ah. Dash. Charming. Danny leaned over the edge of the roof. “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.

“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.

There. See. That's what Danny didn't understand. No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now. They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.

Sure, it had been scary the first few days. The suddenness. The uncertainty. The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright. Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt. He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.

Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt. But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were? Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang? Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up? Where the possibilities seemed limitless?

There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been. So much less potential for harm. This was a more finished version of the world. All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder. He could feel it.

“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.

“No,” said Danny.

“Get down here or else.”

“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious. Dash couldn't get up here. No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity.

Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock. Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.

“Hey!” shouted Dash. “Hey! Freakton! Get back here!”

Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.

Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings. It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.

In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling. It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then. Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was.

For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof. He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue. From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.

He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle. Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing. Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands. Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie. Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos. The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast. A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.

It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?

He looked away, back down at the street far below him. Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.

“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly. “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply. Where he would have said zero, he jumped.

For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.

The moment passed quickly. He was flying. Or, at least, gliding.

He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’ The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.

He was doing it. He was doing it.

And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing. All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–

He could fly.

Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress. But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.

He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals. He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.

His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger. But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again. Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.

He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with. He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street. He rubbed his shoulders. That was going to leave him sore. He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance. He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town.

The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.

“Daniel James Fenton! What do you think you're doing?”

Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents. “Walking?”

Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth. “Inside,” she said

Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house. Maddie closed the door behind him.

“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot. “What, um. I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”

“On the Ops Center,” said Jack. “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”

Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it. He was already in trouble. He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.

“Oh,” he said. “What were you–?”

“Never mind what we were doing. What were you doing? What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that? You could have died?”

“Or been seriously hurt!”

“But I wasn’t! I’m fine. I planned it all out, and it worked.”

“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.

Danny blinked up at them. “What?”

Jack explained. “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny. We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”

Danny held back a sigh. There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.

“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”

“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny. “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”

“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.

“Yeah! It’s really exciting. We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”

“Well, yeah. But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”

“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.

“Uh, yes? Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um. That. I tested it.”

“You tested it? Did you write it down?”

Danny nodded, cautiously. Jack swept him off his feet. “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”

“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”

“Putting his research to practical use!”

“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”

“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”

“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.

“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.

“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”

Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.

“Danny,” said Maddie.

“Yes?” he mumbled.

“No more testing theories without checking in with us first. Safety first. You should know this by now.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars. They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.

A month ago, reality had broken.

A few days before that, Danny had almost died. Lab accident. It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function. Danny had been curious. He’d wanted to explore, to investigate. He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor. He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail. Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.

At least, that’s what he was told, later. He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days. Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant. Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.

Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting. Presumably forever. But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back. Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared. And the Fenton Stockades.

Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents. It was a whole thing.

(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)

“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”

“I understand. I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly. “Not even about cool things like flying.”

Maddie scowled. Jack beamed.

“Great!” shouted Jack. He whirled Danny around again. “Let’s go see your data! Where is it?”

“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny. “I’ve got a notebook.”

“A notebook, Mads!”

Maddie sighed. “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”

#danny phantom #fic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."

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digitalagepulao · 1 year

Text

Sun Wukong, the Monkey King: my design notes [!! click here for the full line-up !!] [click here for just the goodies on tumblr]

also titled, "I underestimated my file sizes" TAT Separate images and info below the read more, beware this is LONG <3

Stone Monkey: himbs baby, that is all <3 he's mostly based off the François Langur, but some of his anatomy and proportions lean more on the Gray Langur and Macaque side of things. His facial fur sort of forms a pentagon shape for the five elements, and I gave him ginger fur cus it's a common depiction for him but also baby langurs are very bright orange, and him not growing dark feels like an apt display of his more childish side, both good and bad. His nails are golden for a bit of a "hidden gem" from a stone egg. Also keeping the tail either in a spiral of C-curve when "engaged", and when droopy it has a feel of a heavy rope. Old World monkeys don't have prehensile tails, he can use it for balance and basic mobility but it's not a third hand for the sake of keeping his monkey-ness.

Handsome Monkey King: in one of the poems the monkeys are said to weave grass for mattresses, so I can see them coming up with a crown of woven grass and never-fading leaves and flowers for their king at the very least. His face skin is darker as an adult, but not much else changes overall. The fuzzy upper lips and sideburns are a feature of the species I'm basing him on and it felt like a good fit to add. I also love the forest langurs are so long-furred, makes for a good way to give him dimension but also, the linework style reminds me of old woodcut shorthands for fur. Added a jade coin for the symbolism, and it feels fitting that the king of such a miraculous mountain would have a treasure like that on him. Placcid chill eyes are imperative, dude's not had an existential crisis yet, he's straight up vibing.

Sun Wukong: during his odd-ten years away from home, he learned human manners so he can stand but, I can see him still needing to lean on his tail to keep up his balance here and there. As he reaches the Western Continent (India) and learns the Way under Patriarch Subodhi, he adopts proper clothes for an apprentice and eventually becomes a Rishi. He dons his facial paint from then on, and after he masters the Way, there's a brightness in his pupils to show his cultivated immortality. The beads are purple solely to stand out over the deluge of oranges that is his design.

Great Sage Equal to Heaven: really went all out on this one orz this is Wukong at his most egotistical and ambitious, and I wanted his fit to truly embody that. Took bits from Peking Opera costumes and common depiction elements of him, with some bit of extra for appropriate levels of flair, like the phoenix feather design. I wanted to go for a mountain pattern mail but I couldn't figure out how to draw it, so I winged a pattern. I,,, doubt I'll ever draw this armor as detailed as here, but I wanted it to feel a bit overwhelming to look at, while also seeming like it doesn't quite fit him perfectly like it's swallowing him. Bit of a "baby wearing their parent's shoes" kind of vibe; he's stupidly powerful but he doesn't have what it takes to sit on the throne of Heaven. Also I leaned his expression to how he might appear during the Havoc in Heaven and then his bet with the Buddha. Full unbrindled rage murder monkey <3

-- Ruyi Jingu Bang: can't quite move on without my notes on the golden-hooped cudgel, now can I? The secondary hoops are there for further design appeal and for my own visualization of how the staff changes size (the hoops move over the staff's length as if to push it outward or inward). The metal is dark damascus alloy, though the pattern can be omitted for ease of drawing. One hoop end depicts a dragon, the other a phoenix, and in the middle of the staff is the canon inscription as described in the books, in seal script. Glow is optional and mostly for aesthetics.

Sun Pilgrim: out of his stolen armor, Wukong seems to swim in his robes but in a less overwhelming way. Went for the simple fillet headband cus his face is busy enough as it is. I know he's skilled enough to skin a tiger into pretty decent squares, but after one too many battles, anything would get tattered. He wears red, teal, black and yellow, four of the five cardinal colors, while white (the West) is still missing. His red and black half-robe doesn't fully cover the yellow underneath, a call back to his golden armor; he tries to use his wisdom and teachings to fight back the impulses of his past, but they still shine through at times. I kept only the leg bangs for dynamic elements to better show movement, but also one could say he's got.... golden hoops (haha get it, like his cudgel?? :oD)

Victorious Fighting Buddha: leaned hard on the actual portrayals of the Buddha. Seeing that he's depicted with dark/blue skin, it felt appropriate to let the guy grow out of his baby ginger fur and into adult black, but a patch remains where the golden headband used to be. I didn't want to give him long hair so no bun, but instead, his fur has a sorta lotus-petals shape now rather than his single point. His face paint changes into a more domino-mask style, and his brow white line resembles a teardrop urna. I made the mail piece he holds longer to keep the flowy bits of his previous outfits, and I turned Ruyi Jingu Bang into the sword he wields.

Hello hi, this robbed me of three days of my life and I'd like to receive compensation x.x Anyway hope you enjoy this lad, I know I do! Also if you wanna send me asks about him pls feel welcome to, I'd love to chat about this bastard monkey (affectionate) (loving) (i`d die for him)

#jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #jttw sun wukong #sun wukong #jttw fanart #monkey king #stone monkey #victorious fighting buddha #buddha victorious in strife #sun pilgrim #bell dragon art #expedition to the west au

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linkedspirit-fanartfunart · 8 months

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[Image Description: 5 colored drawings of Legend of Zelda Fairies reimagined in a humanoid form for the Linked Spirit AU. 1st: Hope and Spryte fly next to each other, holding hands losely while Spryte gestures as if to explain something. Hope grins excitedly. Hope's tunic is red and pink. He has light blue and purple insect wings with feathered antenna. Spryte has blond hair, a simple pink tunic, and light blue wings. She has dark blue antenna with a blub end. 2nd: Navi hovers, one hand to her chest. She has short blue hair, and her body is light blue with a fur-like texture. She wears white armor and a blue skirt. Her wings are a light blue 3rd: Proxi raises a hand up, looking excited. Proxi has dark blue furred body, with white hair in a braid which ends with three blue beads. Her antenna are curled into spirals. She has white puffs of fur around her neck and ankles. She wears a light blue shirt with a flower-like shape at the bottom, and white shorts. Her wings are a sky blue. 4th: Tatl and Tael look at each other, Tatl's hands on her hips, Tael with a hand on his chest. Both of them have a base yellow body color, with patterns on their feet and hands. Tatl's patterns are a deeper yellow, while Tael's are violet. Tatl has blond hair in a ponytail, and wears a yellow dress with a tear pattern at the end. The top of the dress mimics the silhouette of Navi's armor. Tael wears a dark blue jumpsuit, with tattered ends of the shorts and short sleeves. Both of them wear a hoop belt similar to the band of Skull Kid's hat. 5th: Neri, Celia, and Leaf are in a small circle together, Celia's hands on the other's shoulders, and Neri & Leaf holding hands in front of Celia, they have dark skin similar to the Great Fairies in Wind Waker. Neri has a simple blue dress with teal bubbles on the bottom of the dress. Her hair is in a bun with a ponytail beyond it. Her wings are blue with teal tips with a shield like shape in the upper wings. Celia has yellowish green short hair. She wears a light yellow dress with a green line on the bottom of the skirt. Her wings are yellow with a simple line pattern. Leaf wears a red dress with sharp v cuts in the edges. He wears a deep red vest with long tails. His wings are red, with a diamond pattern in his upper wings. End ID]

Fairy friends!!! These designs are kinda my compromise between wanting consistency and wanting to keep them close to their in-game designs. Thus why the Glowing Ball Fairies have colored 'fur' (idk what it's called on insects but it's That, not fur-fur).

In universe, the difference is kinda like how the Wind Waker Healing Fairies are humanoid while the Phantom Hourglass Companion Fairies are glowing balls. The glowing fairies have higher levels of magic, and the hairs, kinda like bees, store it and make them glow.

#linked spirit #loz au #linked spirit au #legend of zelda #loz #ls hope #ls spryte #ls navi #ls proxi #ls leaf #ls celia #ls neri #ls tael #ls tatl #fairies #loz fairies

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tertiaryapocalypse · 1 year

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my piece for the disabledstuck zine, which you can check out here!! it looks really cool all together ^_^

[id: an illustration of john, jade, rose, dave, and davesprite sitting together, in what is presumably a living room. behind them are a variety of posters displaying theirs and the alpha kid's interests, including, from left to right: a picture of kamina from gurren lagann, a national treasure poster, a signed & elaborately framed drawing of sweet bro and hella jeff hugging, a squiddles poster which has been drawn on top of to look like the beta kids, an image of schrodinger with cat ears and whiskers drawn on in pink, a framed photo of sigmund freud, a poster for the movie contact, a photo of obama with red hearts drawn all over it, a wizard print, a poster for bbc sherlock, a print for problem sleuth, a horse calendar with orange annotations on the image and every day crossed out in red up until the 26th of july, a printed image of jigsaw, and a printed image of lil nas x. behind all of the other posters and images is a large photo of neyteri. the wall is a light bluish grey, and the floor is hardwood. june and dave sit on a light green couch with a floral pattern. davesprite is an orange sprite who is slightly glowing. he has similar features as dave, though wing wears his hair in short locks and has a septum piercing. he has gauges and a black beaded bracelet. wing leans on the top of the couch with his arms crossed and wings tail floating behind him, looking over at dave with a lazy expression as dave talks. dave is a blasian person with medium dark skin, short curly hair, which is bleached blond, braces, and aviator shades. she wears a dark red hoodie, dark grey skinny jeans, and a similarly red beanie, as well as green socks with dinosaur bones patterned on. he has a star of david pin and a system flag pin. he leans on the couch and has one leg crossed over the other. john grins, seemingly laughing at dave. she's a chinese-brazilian boy with lighter skin, square rimmed glasses, some stubble, and long straight dark hair in a ponytail. she has his ears pierced and wears a trans necklace, as well as his typical tee shirt and a pair of grey cargo shorts. she leans against the arm of the couch. rose and jade both sit on the floor with their backs to the couch. rose is knitting a pink scarf, listening to their conversation while making an amused expression. it's a blasian girl with curly lavendar hair. she has dark makeup on, and wears a black t-shirt with a purple pleated skirt and black socks. she wears compression gloves and black earrings shaped like the star of david. jade leans on it's knee, sleeping peacefully. jade is a chinese-brazilian person with long wavy dark hair, streaked with white. they have white dog ears and a tail, though said tail is hidden. they habe rounded glasses and wear a dark green cargo skirt and dave's shirt. dave, rose, and davesprite have rounded chins, wide, flat noses, and full lips, while june and jade have slightly more angular chins, hooked noses, and thinner lips. john and dave both have canes leaning against the couch. june's is green and has an offset handle, and daves is a red folding cane. end id.]

#homestuck #june egbert #john egbert #davesprite #rose lalonde #dave strider #jade harley

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eywa-eveng · 2 years

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ɪɪ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.3k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, fluff

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake, slight injury

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪᴠ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @itscheybaby @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @goldenmoonbeam @ladylovegood-69 @myheartfollower @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz

A storm rolled in with the darkness of eclipse, shutting the bright eye of the sky as swollen clouds blotted out the pale light of Naranawm and the stars. Wind howled through the night like screaming banshees, and waves hissed as they crashed to shore. Even now the water is still dark and turbulent, choked with seafoam as the waves rise as high as leaping nalutsa past the safety of the seawall. The small outcroppings of sand and stone are drowned in the rising tide as the storm rages on. Now, it is close to midday but the only light bleeding through the thick covering of clouds comes in bright flashes of lightning that rend the sky in splinters of gleaming white. It is as dazzling as it is dangerous.

The waves have grown high enough to splash over the hanging paths that flow like woven rivers throughout the village, wetting your feet as you return from your sister’s marui. Rain means the day is spent inside, away from the fitful waters that could easily trap even the strongest swimmer of the clan. It is a time for menial tasks, weaving, crafting, and mending. Ronal had traded your finished baskets for another filled with freshly dyed sea fronds and shells she had collected, dismissing you for the day. You sift through the materials on your way home, nearly tripping over Tuk as she sits outside your marui.

Her legs hang dangerously over the edge of the path, the strength of the tide pushing and pulling her skinny limbs as it so pleases. Another wave could sweep her away from your marui and you’re quick to pull her away, tutting over her lack of sense until you remember this is the first storm that’s passed over Awa’atlu since her arrival. Storms do not shake the forest as they do the sea. Your arm catches her waist, lifting her to your hip to carry her inside. She is already chattering about how dull the day has been having been confined to her family’s marui all morning.

“It is only rain.” She says as you set her down inside. She stays at your side, pacing in your shadow as you relight the torches that substitute the sun’s light. Soft shadows shiver and jump in the warm glow of the flickering firelight, tracing dark shapes across the woven walls as Tuk explores your home. It is her first time here and you don’t mind her curiosity as she leafs through your belongings. There is nothing secret to be found in the things that fill the space of your home. She stops before your weapons, yellow eyes drawing over the sea crystal blade of your largest spear. It is a weapon meant for battle and hunting. Every member of the clan has one, but you are not a hunter nor a warrior. It is something you’ve seldom touched since its construction following the completion of your rites as one of the People. Instead you keep to smaller spears and arrows when weapons are needed.

“Rain makes the ocean hostile. Even the strongest swimmers can be trapped under a tall wave. It is best to stay out of the water until the storm has passed.”

“But it’s so boring!” She grouses, coming up beside you with your box of beads and combs in hand. “Sa’nok, can I play with your hair?” You nod, having settled yourself to begin making something of the supplies your sister had given you. There are glimmering shells and beautifully made beads, enough to keep your hands busy for hours to come. By the time someone else comes rushing into your marui you’re nearly done knotting together the intricate pattern of a new top. Neteyam looks frantic as he ducks inside the closed flap, wiping rain from his brow.

“Sa’nok, have you seen–Tuk!” He calms as soon as he sees his sister seated happily at your side, fingers still playing in the long waves of your hair. Her braids are thick and clumsy as she threads shells and beads into each loop but she seems content with the work she’s done. She’s gentle in her work, never pulling or tangling as she goes.

“I have been looking for you. Do not go off without saying where you are going. You know Sempul doesn’t like that.” In the corner of your eye you see Tuk’s ears droop and she moves in closer to you, hands holding your arm for comfort as she hides her face in your hair. Neteyam’s expression softens at the sight. His voice may be lighter with youth but when he speaks it carries the weight of Jake’s words. He is the eldest son, a heavy burden to bear. It is expected that he will look after his siblings as well as his father does and the stress of it must prick at his heart the same as it does any parent’s. More so considering the blame that is laid at his feet when he fails to meet his father’s expectations. You’ve seen it when Lo’ak got himself into trouble, the great disappointment shining in Jake’s eyes as he blamed one son for the actions of another. If there are cords twining the Sully family together it pains you to imagine how frayed each of them might be. Neteyam to Lo’ak, Jake to his sons. It makes your heart heavy to think of the pain each of them bears trying to keep each other safe and happy, but it is the nature of a family. Just as the thread between you and Ronal had grown thin upon the Sullys’ arrival these things can be mended with time. It is the way of the All Mother’s great balance. In life there is both darkness and light and both must be felt equally despite the pain of it.

“I’m not mad, Tuk,” Neteyam says finally, kneeling beside you and his sister. “I was worried.” She nods and moves from her place hidden in the thick tresses of your hair. The two of them remain by your side, talking between themselves as you continue your crafting.

The storm wanes as the day comes to a close, thick clouds parting enough that the tied flap of the marui can be raised once more. Neteyam does it for you, eager to help when you mention the quieting winds. What had been incessant howling earlier has soothed to a soft whisper that has warmed in the soft, misting rain. The tide is still high but the water isn’t so choppy without great gusts of wind stirring the water. Tuk is quick to abandon her braiding to bask in the revealed light of eclipse. For a few minutes there’s nothing but brilliant yellow light cast over the island before it winks out like a torch being snuffed. Light is quick to return as the stars begin to shine and the darkened ocean finally finds its light as the stilled waters give way to the faint glow of syuratan hidden beneath the wavering surface. Tuk hangs over the edge, little legs kicking in the air as she sticks her head into the calmed waters. She rises with a giggling splash accompanied by the clicking of an ilu as the larger animals finally emerge from their shelter beneath the floating village.

The rest of Awa’atlu resurfaces as well, breathing a great sigh of relief as if rising after a long dive. Children just as restless as Tuk rush to the water’s edge and she goes to play with them a small ways down the path. Her voice is still clear as you begin to prepare for dinner, lighting a cookfire and gathering ingredients. Usually the meals you prepare at home are for yourself only so it is a welcomed change to have more mouths to feed. Happiness swells like cresting waves in your chest as you watch the two of them eat, enjoying the food you’ve made for them. It is another moment of stolen motherhood. They are not your children but you feel responsible for them. For their health, for their happiness.

It is not only because you were tsakarem. There will always be a piece of you that wants to look after the members of your clan but these children–Jakesully’s children–feel different when you think of them. It makes your heart break and mend all at once as Tuk makes herself comfortable in the cradle of your folded legs when she’s done eating, content to fall asleep against your chest as you talk with Neteyam. Your conversation is aimless as you speak over the dying cookfire, torches slowly dwindling their light until there’s only the blue glow of Pandora around you. He tells you of his exploration around the island and his training with Ao’nung and the others.

“They laugh at me because I cannot throw a spear. I was taught to use a bow. Throwing arrows without it seems strange.” His complaint holds no malice. There is a smile playing on his lips. No longer are the arguments between the children rife with malice. Now there are only well humored jokes between friends, like teasing siblings.

“You will learn,” you hum. “It is hard to master a spear. I could not throw in a straight line for many months when I was first learning. Ao’nung was the same. Watch when you’re training. Sometimes he will still throw a bit to the left. Learning when to release takes patience.”

It’s in the pale light that Neteyam’s face seems to change, drawing into a severe expression as his eyes empty of mirth despite your light tone. When he looks up at you again there’s something heavy and longing in his eyes.

“I don’t know if ma sempul has said it, but thank you. For everything. I know that we are outsiders and that tsahìk Ronal did not want us here to start. But you have made this place feel like home for us. For me.” Your lips part to say something but all that forms on your tongue is his name, filled with a heavy maternal anguish. Here is this child taken from his home and all that he’s known because there are demons looking for his blood. He is fighting. Everyday he has to fight to find happiness here under such dire circumstances. There are times when you see them forget, when Awa’atlu truly seems like home but the soul doesn’t forget where it’s been.

“Oh, Neteyam,” you say again, trying to reach for him. He lets you comfort him for only a moment before standing.

“It is late. My father will be wondering where we are.” And like that the illusion shatters. You are not his mother. It is not your place to soothe and placate. It’s a small miracle that he does not take Tuk from your arms, that he lets you walk beside him back to his marui. Jake is still awake though Kiri and Lo’ak have gone to sleep for the night. He takes Tuk from you to lay her down in her usual place and you take a steadying breath before placing a hesitant hand on Neteyam’s head. His shoulders raise for a moment, tail stiffening behind him before he slowly relaxes and leans into your touch.

He wants to be comforted, you realize, but it seems that he’s gone without for so long that he’s forgotten how to accept it. Not for the first time your thoughts stray to his mother. She’s little more than a wisp of a thought in your mind, vague and undefined. It’s the one thing you can’t bring yourself to ask them about despite the itching in the back of your head to know even as little as her name. But the thought of her must be like a healing wound to the family she’s left behind and you won’t be the one to tear at their scars until they’re bleeding anew.

Neteyam leans against your side, not hugging but allowing you to smooth over his braids for a moment longer until he squares his shoulders and steps away. His eyes are towards his feet, avoiding your knowing gaze as he bids you goodnight. There’s a hesitance in his steps as if he is forcing himself towards his own bedroll in the marui. Whatever comfort he has taken in your gentle touch has soothed and disturbed his soul in equal parts. There’s conflict in his eyes when you finally see them flashing in the darkness of their home. He wants to accept your affection but something is holding him back. Before you can ask Jake takes his son’s place beside you, pulling you away from the sleeping children towards the beach. The water is colder than usual and nearly to your knees as the shore is buried beneath the heightened tide.

“I missed you today.” He says as he pulls you further into the water. There are others around, already enjoying the ocean’s embrace after going a day without it. The air is filled with the hushed sounds of laughter and lapping water.

“I heard you were out hunting.” Ronal had given you simple chores today but Tonowari was nowhere to be seen each time you went to deliver your mending and weaving to your sister. You assumed he’d taken a small party inland to hunt in the flooded rivers as they usually do when the ocean becomes inhospitable. Jake has proved to be a skilled hunter in the time since he’s arrived at Awa’atlu and it’s curried him favor with the olo'eyktan.

“Yeah,” he groans, rolling his shoulders back.

“Are you tired? You should rest.” Your ears perk up in concern.

“Nah, I’d rather spend time with you.” It makes your heart flutter in your chest but the happiness is dampened by the feeling of selfishness. This man is not yours and yet he makes your heart soar with only a few words. It isn’t fair to him or yourself to be so fixated on the feeling but you can hardly help the way you feel. If it were possible to tear the roots of affection from your chest and leave only thoughts of a newly kindled friendship, you would do it without hesitation. But Eywa was seen fit to fill your vitra with dangerous desire. You want to ask the Great Mother what she wants with you, why she’s chosen to test you in this way, but it will do no good. The seed has been planted and you must helplessly watch it blossom despite the inevitability of your feelings wilting in the face of rejection.

In the pale blue light of the watchful eye above, you decide to toss those thoughts to the wind. Jake is smiling at you like he’s never seen anything lovelier than your face in the starlight and it makes you want to be reckless with your heart if only for one night. Before eclipse breaks and the sun returns you’ll pretend that this man is yours no matter the pain that will come later.

“Come. I will race you to the seawall.” It is a game played between more novice swimmers, children trying to prove their prowess amongst their friends but Jake smiles anyway. Nì’eveng you’ve taken to calling him. Childish. The look on his face is nothing but playful as you both dive into the open water. There is no doubt that you’ll beat him. Even as he’s steadily improved in the water he still isn’t built for the ocean the same as you. Your body is strong from your arms to your tail and Jake is woefully behind by the time you climb onto the lowest levels of the terraces. They’re alight with shades of green, blue, and purple that shine brighter with each step you take towards the top. But Jake is faster on land, longer legs easily bounding up the terraces until he catches you by the waist just before you reach the top. It’s the closest the two of you have ever been as he swings you in a circle until your laughter echoes across the darkened sky. His arms don’t move when he sets you down. Instead his face finds the column of your neck, purrs sounding in your ears as his nose traces over the rippling stripes of your skin.

“Got you.” His voice is an entrancing drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels as if the world has tilted and only you feel the shift as Jake’s hands soothe over your waist, keeping you close to his chest as he noses behind your ear. It’s intimate in a way you’ve never experienced. There has never been anyone to court you, to treat you with such affection. No man of the Metkayina would dare even after Tonowari passed over you in favor of your sister. Yet here is this man from a place you’ve never seen, giving you everything that you’ve ever wanted.

“You caught me.” You agree and Jake laughs against the shell of your ear. He mumbles something as he squeezes you closer. You turn in his arms, face drawn in confusion.

“Always,” he says again. “I’ll always catch you.” His forehead presses to yours bright eyes clouding your vision of anything other than him.

“I’m not running.” It’s a lie but you say it to preserve the fantasy. Just for this night you want to pretend that you belong to him in truth.

“You are.” He says and the illusion is shattered. His arms around you begin to feel too tight and his breath too close as it washes over your parted lips. This isn’t how you should be acting with a mated man no matter how you feel towards him. But when you try to pull away his arms tighten.

“There you go again. What are you running from, girl?” You shake your head, voice lost somewhere in your throat as you try to do exactly what you’ve said you aren’t. You want to run away but your heart will stay with you. These feelings of yours won’t be easily abandoned as they beat in your chest like a drum. They will follow you no matter how far you go. You don’t get farther than turning away from him before he has you in his arms again. His hand settles over your thumping heart, fingertips tracing over the shape of your tattoo.

“I feel you,” he says, hand moving from your fluttering heart to your throat, “I hear you.” Your breathing comes in stuttered draws, lungs suddenly constricted with the wave of emotions crashing inside you. “I See you.” He says finally, lips caressing your ear. When your shuddering breaths calm he turns you to face him again. All that beams in his eyes is sincerity. Yearning and something close to desperation. He wants you to accept him.

“You’re not mine.” It’s a warbled cry as tears swell in your eyes.

“I’m yours. I’m all yours, yawne.” It makes your knees go weak and you fall from his arms, landing gracelessly in the water at your feet.

“I can’t do this.” Jake flinches back, his hands falling from where they’d been reaching out to you. “You’ve mated with another. I can’t have you.”

Never have you heard of a mated pair in which one of them had been mated before. When a mate dies, that does not make room for another. Tsaheylu is sacred, shared only between two lovers. What Jake is asking is something your heart cannot understand. The thoughts of the woman you’ve never met, the woman that came before you, keeps you from letting yourself love him fully. He is hers. Whatever part of him wants you now, it is not the whole of him. It is inevitable that when mates are separated by death, a part of the living dies with the one that went to Eywa. He will always be hers before he is yours. Or perhaps Jakesully will be different as he is in all things.

He is Na’vi but he was also tawtute. It was Eywa that decided his fate as Toruk Makto, that allowed him to have the body that he does today. Perhaps you are simply another part of his fate. Another bead in his songcord. Each thought swims through your head quicker than the last, growing more absurd with each passing moment. It would be so easy to ignore it, to reach out and be with Jake in the way that he’s asking you to. But your heart is delicate, your soul conflicted. He isn’t yours. And yet he is. His heart is in his hands as he stares at you, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. You’ve got me. I’m here. Whenever you want me, I’m here. I promise.” He carries you home once you’ve cried yourself dry, laying you down and pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to join his children. It breaks your heart to watch him leave but it is where he belongs. His children will always need him more than you. A lonely tsakarem will always pale in comparison to the remnants of the life he led before you met. His mate, their children. If you accept him it will be as if you are a mismatched bead looped at the end of a bracelet. Dull and out of place.

For once you do not rise with the sun as it breaks from behind Naranawm’s shadow. There’s a soreness in your eyes as you try to shield them from the burning white light of the morning sun as it burns unfettered after spending a day under heavy clouds. Tears have dried on your cheeks and Tuk’s braids have become tangled and undone after what was surely a fitful sleep. You remove them slowly, collecting all the ornaments she added as they fall into your lap. There are things that need to be done, tasks that need completing, but you ignore those responsibilities to hide your face in the forest. You take your time in bathing and cleaning your hair, spending too long in the memories of the hands that touched you last night. It’s as if he’s still with you. So gentle and earnest as he caressed your skin.

The memories linger like a bruise when you finally drag yourself from the bathing pool, sore and shameful. Once you’ve dressed you abandon the village to visit the one place you’ve been avoiding since the moment you met Jakesully. There was fear in your heart at the thought of bonding with the Ranteng Utralti. Fear of what the Great Mother might show you, what your ancestors might tell you. It still lingers even as you leave your ilu to bask in the pale purple light of the glowing fronds of the spirit tree. Tree spirits swim around you, yellow fish shining bright as stars. The waters around the tree are deserted aside from the animals. No one to judge your hesitancy to commune with Eywa after so long. The fronds of the tree sway in the gentle current, waiting patiently for you to gather the courage to make tsaheylu. It nearly knocks the breath from your lungs when you finally join your tswin to the tree.

There are no thoughts in your mind as you join Eywa. There is no one that you want to see, no ancestor you wish to visit, but the Great Mother embraces you still. It feels like the gentlest hug as the colors flashing behind your eyes fades to something tangible yet distant all the same.

Eywa has brought you to a place you do not know. It is like the deep forest of Awa’atlu yet different. The air doesn’t carry the scent of the sea. It smells rich and loamy as thick grass cushions each of your curious steps. Trees that seem to touch the sky grow around you and sunlight peaks through the leaves in dappled beams, warming your skin for only a moment before you pass beneath another shadow. In the richly colored forest you look out of place. Skin bright as polished river stone, beaming through the deep greens of the foliage. You walk until you see something of interest. The trees thin to a small clearing and you stop in your tracks. The vision wavers as you fight against what the Great Mother has to show you, shimmering like heat rising off sand before solidifying as you force your heartbeat to calm.

A long structure sits before you. Grayish black the same as the buzzing ikran that had carried Norm and Max across the ocean. Metal, Jake had called it. You’ve only ever heard the word. It is part of the Na’vi Way set by the Three Laws of Eywa. Never use metals from the ground. It is something made from digging and stripping the earth. Harmful. It tosses off beams of light as you slink closer, staying close to the ground despite the lack of danger. There’s another metal beast in the clearing. Seemingly broken and covered in moss and vines. Inside is a small headless skeleton with two arrows through its ribs. Tawtute. They have been dead for long enough to turn to bone and yet their strange metal body has not returned to the earth it was stripped from. Even the well-made arrows have gathered rot where Eywa has begun to reclaim them.

It seems so unnatural for the metal to be so unflinching and yet you can’t temper your curiosity. You lean closer only to burn your hands on the shiny beast as if you’ve touched an open flame. Whatever this metal material is, it collects heat like a black stone left in the sun. The tawtute structure is just as smoldering beneath your skin as you vault inside. The floor makes a sound like shifting seashells as you land, a strange material like shards of crystal tinkling underfoot as you slink through the small space, crouching in the unaccommodating space. It feels odd to find yourself in a place like this and yet this is where Eywa wants you to be.

There is a Law against things like this. Laying brick, building that which cannot be renewed or replenished. Metal remains. It is cold inside despite the sun shining just beyond the opening in the wall, and very little of Pandora has dared to reach inside. This is a place of sawtute and the forest recognizes that. Nothing other than pollen and lichen has found its way inside. There is something here for you. Something Eywa needs you to see among the ruins of the sawtute. There’s a childlike curiosity to your exploration as you pick through the remains of the banished demons.

There are strange pieces of color, thin as leaves cut into neat shapes. They’re untouched by rot yet the colors seem wrong, slightly faded like an old mat left in the sun. There are people captured in the strange, dull threads of color. Two of them look familiar in a distant way, like you’d seen them from afar but only once. It isn’t until you bring the tiny thing close to your face that you realize you’ve seen pieces of these women in other people. Their eyes, their noses. Small details that you’ve noticed in others. The uniltìrantokx is even wearing a necklace you’ve seen before though it takes you a beat to place who’d worn it.

“Kiri?” The frozen memory jumps from your fingers like you’ve been struck and crystal shards dig into your knees as you stumble to the ground. The sharp pain rushes through you with startling vividness. Never have you been harmed while cradled in the Great Mother’s arms and the pain disrupts the vision, twisting and changing it as you try to stand. Light contorts and a sharp pain splits through your head, thrusting you back into your body with an aborted gasp.

Bubbles cloud your vision as you try to calm your racing mind. Who were those women with faces so familiar they seemed nearly tangible. Your mind races as your lungs pinch with exertion after all your air left in a warbled cry. Air seems far out of reach as you swim towards the light of the sun kissing the gentle waves. You surface with a strangled shout that echoes across the floating islands of the Cove, only treading water long enough to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest as your ears cloud with the sound of your rushing blood. It takes all your focus to force your body to silence, to calm. Absently, you check your knees for blood, half expecting to find shards still embedded in your skin. When you find nothing other than the pattern of your skin your heart steadies enough for you to dive again. This time there is no hesitation as you connect to the Ranteng Utralti. There is a place for you in what Eywa has shown you. Everyone lives within the Great Mother. She remembers. Someone had been there before you. Someone precious to you. The Great Mother knows your heart, knows what it is you seek. A purpose. An answer.

Show me, you whisper in your mind. Tell me.

The vision is different as the flashing colors fade to night, the seldom patches of sky alight with stars and a gentle breeze lifting the curls of your hair as you stand at the precipice of a spiraling tree root. The sounds floating through the darkness are so different from the steady lapping of water. There is life all around you, just beyond sight as your footsteps stir up bursts of green syuratan. Everything feels new, like you’re a child again as you walk along the path the Great Mother has set you on. Specks of white like tanhì glow through the soft light of blue and purple leaves overhead, drifting on the faint breeze. They descend like a gentle rain and feel just as faint as one lands in your outstretched hand. More follow, tickling across your skin as they turn your body a pure shade of white. Eywa’s presence strengthens with each one that brushes against you and you realize they must be atokirina’. So different from the radiant seeds of your own spirit tree and yet the feeling is the same.

They dance over your body like lapping waves before departing in a glimmering cloud. It would be lovely to watch them float away if an echoing screech didn’t follow their departure. You don’t dare to turn and face what made such a deafening noise. Instead you clumsily sprint towards cover, wide tail doing little to balance your strides as you find an alcove in a tree to hide yourself. The bark is rough against your skin after being so gently touched by the hands of the Great Mother and your vision wavers once more as fear punches through your chest in an acidic burst. Never have you encountered danger when connected to the Ranteng Utralti. Never have you known Eywa to lead those seeking guidance into peril. But you’ve been hurt, you’ve bled. And now another shriek crashes through the quiet of the forest, echoing eerily through the treetops. The distant branches seem to shudder, shedding leaves as something crashes through the foliage. Is this the result of your covetous heart? The Great Mother turning her back on you?

A scream rips from your throat, nearly burning with its intensity as a giant ikran descends through the hole it’s torn through the canopy. The roots shudder beneath its mighty weight as it lands where you’d been standing and your thick limbs tremble clumsily, hands tucking into the groves of the tree bark to keep yourself upright and hidden. This beast is like no ikran you’ve ever seen though you’ve seen so few in the distant atolls of the Metkayina. Yet this one seems intrinsically different. Large and bright in the night as it spreads its fearsome wings, fanged jaw opening to let out another bellow that has your ears folding tight against your head. A pained noise slips from your lips as its voice splits through your head and it’s enough to draw the creature’s attention to you. Its eyes seem to find you even in the shadows and you’re reminded that the two of you are bright beings in a darkened forest. For a moment your heart stops and yet the beast doesn’t charge, doesn’t let out another terrifying scream. Instead it sits as if waiting for you to show yourself.

Every instinct carved into you since birth begs you to stay hidden and yet, with hesitant steps, you emerge from your hiding place. If this is your punishment for daring to think a man like Jake could ever be yours then you’ll have to face it.

The ikran fixes its four eyes on you, wings spreading to block anything but the warm shades of its striped skin. It is the color of the sun in a sea of shades of green and blue, a torch over the ocean. A fire, your mind sings. Wings like flames. The song of Toruk Makto. It is one you remember well, sung more often in the years after the sawtute were banished from Pandora. The ikran before you is no ikran. It is toruk. Last Shadow. A breath leaves you in an awed rush as tears begin to burn in your eyes. Toruk stays as still as an animal can be as you approach him. There is still fear in your heart, something instinctual that is sewn into the very fabric of your soul. And yet it bleeds away as you reach to touch him. Part of you still expects a quick reproach, a snap of his mighty jaw to remove your hand. But he only shifts his weight and watches as you touch the blue crests of his head. Any fear still lingering in your chest dissipates at the feeling of his head in the palm of your small hand.

You came to the Great Mother with a storm wailing inside you, burying you beneath the dark waters of uncertainty, and she has eased it. All at once the dark clouds of your conflicted spirit seem to part and warmth blooms in its place. Toruk shuts his eyes and leans further into your hand as if he too can feel the stillness finally easing inside you.

He is your answer. Eywa has heard you.

The days that follow pass in a haze. Even as your heart has been soothed your mind is still racing. It’s all you can do to pick up with your daily tasks, to pretend the Great Mother hasn’t just laid a magnificent blessing into your hands.

“Sa’nok, watch me!” Naleyä squeals before gulping in a deep breath and diving to the bottom of the pool, drawing you out of your own head. The tide pools are still overflowing after the storm and it’s made the children more confident now that the water has grown a bit deeper. They’re light as seabirds floating on their round tummies as they paddle in circles around you, daring to dive for a few moments before resurfacing with little gasps and eager smiles. It’s still shallow enough that you could reach Naleyä just by bending down but she seems determined to prove how well she’s learned as she picks up a shell resting at the bottom to bring you when she resurfaces. Mu’rak intercepts the gift, curious fingers taking the shell before he passes it to you for approval. It’s a simple shell. Flat and ridged, the color of a pinkish sunrise. You’ve collected many of them in your life but each is just as precious as the last. More so when gifted by one of your students. You press the shell to your lips before tucking it away in your medicine pouch.

“Me!” Peylil says, already filling his lungs with a big gust of air but you deflate him with a pinch of your fingers on his puffed cheeks. He’s young, too young to have even fully grown his tswin braid. He’s eager to follow but he’s only just learned to swim, hands still gripping cautiously at your loincloth to keep from floating too far in the pool. It will take some time before he is ready to dive, even in the shallowest of waters. He pouts up at you and for a moment he almost reminds you of Tuk. The thought is easily plucked away by the sound of a horn. It isn’t the same sound that had announced the arrival of the Sullys and there are no swooping silhouettes emerging from the haze of sunlight. Instead your eyes find the break in the sprawling seawall that lines the horizon. A rush of water rises like a cloud and through the mist comes the familiar crest of a tulkun. In an instant the feelings sitting like stones in your chest turn to dust and fall away. The tulkun have returned.

Once more Awa’atlu stops but there isn’t a storm to dampen this day. Everything has been abandoned to welcome the tulkun home. It is a time for reunions. For stories of what has come to pass since the tulkun last graced the waters of Awa’atlu. Whatever thoughts still lingers in your head are lost in the face of sharing this moment with those you hold dearest. The children are gathered quickly by their parents eager to introduce the younglings to their spirit family. You set off to find the children that have claimed your heart, but Kiri is the only one left inside when you reach the Sully marui looking as downtrodden as she’s been in the weeks since her seizure. It makes you wonder what the Great Mother might have shown her on that day. You’ve yet to mention what you’d seen of her mother, but if Eywa blessed with a meeting with toruk, then Kiri could’ve seen something truly amazing. And yet she hasn’t spoken of what she saw or who she spoke to. It isn’t your place to ask. Connection to the spirit tree is a private commune with the Great Mother and you won’t begrudge her that.

This will not erase her pain but it is your hope that it will ease her spirit even for a moment. Kiri shines so brightly with the light of Eywa and she will surely bloom in the majesty of the tulkun. She barely looks up when you enter the marui, ears lifting only slightly to acknowledge you despite the smile you feel overtaking your face.

“Kiri, come!” When she doesn’t move you guide her to her feet with gentle hands. She returns the soft touch though she is hesitant to heed your urging towards the water.

“What?” She groans but her attitude does little to deter you. She is still young, still hurting. Her words are only as harsh as whatever she is feeling and you’re eager to soothe her pains.

“What is it?” Her voice stops short as you finally guide her outside. She squints in the sun and you wonder when she last left home. For a moment your smile falls and you turn to look at her fully, holding her hands in yours as you look her over with the sharp eyes of a tsakarem. She is the same as you last saw her. Still dulled. Her light has dimmed and it aches your heart to see her faith slip. Eywa has not turned her back on Kiri. It’s clear to see in the way the fish seem to gravitate towards her as you lead her into the water. They mingle around her ankles like they’re caught in a whirling tide but she hardly notices as her eyes take in the spectacle playing out over the horizon. Yellow eyes widen in awe as the two of you watch the village become whole once more. Her hand tightens in yours as she looks to you with the first sparks of excitement shining in her eyes. Suddenly she’s pulling you along, eagerly dragging you along with her.

“Sa’nok!” Tuk shouts gleefully, already bouncing with excitement. She stands behind Kiri on her ilu, hands on her sister’s shoulders as they follow you into the flood of Na’vi and tulkun, tsurak and ilu. The whole of Awa’atlu has poured into the sea and voices rise joyously over the blue waters. It is the blissful sound of the People and tulkun as siblings are reunited after the season apart.

“There! Do you see her? That is my spirit sister.” Your voice is pitched with excitement as Kiri and Tuk ride beside you. The water is warm as you urge your ilu to dive. She chitters happily, feeling the elation coursing through you through tsaheylu. Veyan hums eagerly when her eyes finally see you riding towards her, dismounting as you swim in close. Her voice is a warm timber that sings through the water as you greet her.

«Veyan! Oel ngati kameie.»

«Oel ngati kameie, tsmuke. I am happy to see you.» Her skin feels welcoming beneath your hands as you press your forehead just above her eyes in a gentle embrace. «Who have you brought with you?» She asks when you part. Kiri and Tuk have kept close to you, signing a respectful greeting when Veyan’s eyes land on them. Kiri hugs close to her ilu as Tuk clings to your back, both bashful in the face of your spirit sister. Veyan is a lovely being known for her beautiful voice and playful disposition. She is as curious as they are upon first meeting.

«This is Kiri and this is Tuk.» You gesture to each of them in turn. Names are harder to convey without a voice and you name each with words that are easily signed. Kiri you call txanatan for how brightly she reflects Eywa’s light, and Tuk is weopxtsyìp; little wave. It is a common name tulkun say before a child is properly introduced.

«It seems now is a time for children.» Veyan laughs, pointing her snout across the water. Many Na’vi and tulkun dance in the blue waters but you recognize who she has gestured to.

Ronal is a short distance away and just as you always are you’re struck by your sister’s smile. It’s a rare sight to see the stoic tsahìk so open and unburdened as she speaks with her spirit sister. Roa looks radiant as she cradles a calf beneath her fin. A gorgeous son. You taste the sea on your tongue as a smile breaks across your face. After so long Roa has finally had her child. He looks precious swimming next to his mother, curious eyes taking in the world around him. Just as you’re about to suggest the girls introduce themselves to the young calf they sign that they need air, swimming to the surface.

«They must be a long way from home.» Veyan notes, keen eyes watching their shadows as they float overhead. It is easy to tell their differences. Their eyes, their tails. It’s made clearer as Rotxo finds them, wide limbs clashing with their willowy frames as he gestures for them to follow him. Both you and Veyan surface for a breath as you watch them all swim away. Neteyam is nearby as well, smiling wide as he watches the tulkun breach and twirl, playfully flapping their fins as skimwings fly overhead.

«Is he one of yours too?» Veyan asks when you name each of them properly.

«None of them are mine.» Your tone is dejected as you say the words as you sign. Veyan’s orange eyes roll at your denial.

«I can see it as plainly as the sky, tsmuke. They are your children.» The sound of Roa’s voice raises from beneath you as Ronal and her spirit sister come to join you and yours.

«Children?» The older tulkun asks curiously. She has known you since you were young, seen you through many seasons of your life. Roa is just as much your sister as she is Ronal’s even if the two of you do not share the bond of tsaheylu. You greet her happily, giving her well wishes on the birth of her son. She thanks you with a happy trill, nudging him forward for a shy greeting.

«Three of them.» Veyan says happily, fins fluttering in excitement and nearly shaking you back into the water.

«Four.» Ronal corrects her. «Two sons and two daughters.»

«When did this happen?» Roa asks. You lay back on Veyan’s fin, watching the sky as you try to gather the courage to speak your feelings into the air. You’ve spent months keeping them tucked close to your chest. It is plain to see how deeply you feel for Jake and yet you’ve refused to admit it, like he will disappear if you so much as whisper your affections to anyone. At first it felt wrong to so shamelessly pine for a man that was already spoken for but Eywa has proven you wrong. Now you are unlearning such ideas but it is slow going like pulling the stray threads of a knot. It has taken so much patience and trust in the Great Mother to loosen your grip on the thoughts of desiring a man like Jake being treacherous and wrong. In death, tsaheylu is broken. An ikran may only ride with one hunter in their whole life, but when a spirit sibling is lost another may rise to take their place if a Na’vi so chooses to accept. It is not betrayal, it is balance. As Eywa intends all things to be.

Yet there is still hesitancy in your words as you tell your sisters about Jake. How he came to Awa’atlu seeking uturu, how you challenged Ronal before the clan to allow him and his family to stay, the way your heart has been so easily taken by the Sullys.

«She is in love.» Ronal says, sour attitude clear even as her fingers shape the words. «But stubborn like a child.» Her voice is rife with disappointment. Not at your desire, but your unwillingness to act upon it.

She still taunts you. Making jabs about your empty home knowing that you could so easily join the Sully family if only you let yourself. Ronal may be your elder sister but she is also tsahìk. The will of Eywa is hers to interpret and the Great Mother has made her intentions clear. Yet the longer you go without acknowledging the truth of what you both know the more abrasive she becomes at the mention of it. Now she has grown far past pointed remarks. It has become an argument at even a passing mention. If either tulkun hears the frustration in Ronal’s tone they choose to ignore it. Though even her body has gone tense with dissatisfaction as she floats beside Roa.

«At last?» Veyan rolls over, clearly elated at the news. It knocks you back into the water with her. You take in the shapes of her tattoos on her belly as she spins. The same ones you’ve traced countless times in the years since you’ve bonded. This is news that she has been waiting for since the two of you passed your rites together. Finally you have found a mate. And yet your heart can’t let it be so simple even when what you want is so close at hand.

Jake has kept to the fringes of your life since the night on the terraces. He lingers, just out of reach. Whenever you want me, he said. His heart won’t stray from those words, from you. Even as you pass him in the village he doesn’t dare to speak or touch yet his eyes follow you, gaze wistful as he watches in silence.

«But he is already mated.» You tell them. Ronal narrows her eyes.

«His mate has returned to Eywa.» She quickly corrects you.

«Tsmuke, Eywa sends blessings for a reason. The Great Mother would not give you such a gift if you were not meant to accept it. He has chosen you. All you must do now is choose him.» Roa advises.

«There will be a celebration tonight.» Veyan chimes happily. «You must dress beautifully and go to him. I ask Eywa to bless this union.» Roa seconds her enthusiasm but Ronal keeps any kind words to herself until the two of you have surfaced once more to prepare for the evening. It is nearing eclipse, the sky faded to shades of pink and purple as night closes in. Ronal will have many things to do before the last sparks of sunlight fade from the sky. It is the duty of tsahìk to lead ceremonies and tonight marks one of the clan’s most sacred celebrations.

“Tsmuke,” Ronal says finally, joining you in your marui. Her tone is strong, sharp as a blade. She’s yet to speak and already you know her words will be unsympathetic. Ronal is past sparing you for the sake of sibling harmony. It’s clear in her green eyes that she feels nothing but irritation with you at this moment. It feels much the same as when you were children being scolded for going against her words despite her being the elder. Now she is tsahìk, the leader of your clan, and you must bow to her council no matter your relation.

“I have waited many years for you to choose someone. I do not want to hear any more of this stubbornness. It is done. This man has chosen you and you have chosen him. Not with your words, but with your actions. I see how Jakesully looks at you. I see how his children cling to you. It is as if it was your hands that drew out the aysnatanhì. You See so much and yet you are blind to this. He was mated but she is gone. His heart is free to be given to another. His children will need a mother. I will not allow you to keep yourself from happiness.”

“Syay,” she says pointedly. “It has been decided.”

And so it has. The dreamwalker that looks like Kiri and the woman that shares Neteyam’s face stare at you when you sleep. And when it isn’t their yellow eyes it is toruk’s voice ringing in your mind. He is lonely, in your dreams. Nearly desperate. The same look that takes over Jake’s eyes whenever you pass him by as if he were a stranger. You’re hurting him, you realize, just as much as you are hurting yourself. And it is a pain that can be easily soothed. Eywa has shown you how to heal if only you’ll listen. As if hearing your thoughts as if they were her own, your sister speaks again.

“You were tsakarem just as I was and yet you act as if you do not See. I know that you do. There is freedom in life but some things are decided by the Great Mother’s will. This has been one of those things. Eywa has guided you here, tsmuke, do not ignore her.” Her voice carries a tone of finality. It is the truth and you’ve felt the Great Mother’s guidance. It is as strong and unwavering as mighty toruk, as patient and comforting as Jake’s gentle words. He is meant for you just as you’re meant for him. There is a reason you’ve met him now. He had his mate. She was meant for him just as you are but that was then. Her purpose was served and her spirit returned to be with Eywa. The final hesitant piece of your heart wonders if you’ll leave him just as soon. If your purpose beside him is to be completed just as quickly. It hardly matters. Your heart was his from the moment you first saw him. If death waits close around the bend you’ll gladly face it if he remains by your side until Eywa calls your spirit home.

Ronal seems to soften after she’s said her piece. A heaving breath leaves her as she steadies her anger, expelling the negative energy from her body in a great heaving sigh. After a moment her eyes open and they no longer carry the stinging bite of disappointment. Instead she has softened to a look of quiet anticipation. A small smile sits in the corner of her mouth, barely lifting her cheeks.

“Tonight we celebrate the return of our brothers and sisters. It is a time for happiness. Dress beautifully, wear your adornments. I want to see my sister shine brightly on this sacred night.” It is the same thing you said to her so many years ago on the night that Tonowari chose her. She is relieved, happy. This will be a burden lifted from her shoulders at last. With a resolute nod she leaves you to dress. As a former tsakarem you’re afforded more beautiful garbs than most women of the clan just as Ronal is. Tsahìk is always the most lavishly decorated woman and being your sister’s right hand has provided you with the same dignified attire. The Awa’atlu tradition of training many for the role of tsahìk means that each woman to complete the trials is just as precious to the clan as the chosen tsahìk mated to olo’eyktan. The People often present you with lovely gifts of the most beautiful beads, shimmering shells, and handsomely dyed materials after healing a member of their family or teaching their child to swim. It’s a balanced exchange as you return the favors with carefully made baskets and newly carved knives.

The most precious of these gifts you’ve kept hidden away to be used only as ceremonial pieces. For births and deaths, and the celebration of completed rites. The return of the tulkun marks such a worthy event. It’s as you’re combing through your basket of woven tops and beaded loincloths that Tsireya joins you, arms overflowing with freshly picked flowers.

“Ma sa’tsmuke.” She says happily. There’s a bounce in her step as she sits beside you. “Ma sa’nok has asked us to make aysylangtel for tonight’s ceremony.”

“Did you enjoy your time with your spirit sister?” You ask as the two of you weave together the flower cords. The petals are soft between your fingers as you weave together the stems until you’ve braided a rope as long as your tail. They’re meant to be worn in your hair, along the length of your tswin.

“Yes,” she laughs bashfully, “I had much to tell her.” She doesn’t say more, cheeks flushed a soft shade of purple as her tail sways happily against the woven floor. She speaks instead of making aysylangtel for Kiri and Tuk after you’ve finished with the ones meant for Ronal and herself as well as yours. When they’re finished she gleefully takes them to the Sullys, leaving you with the brightest of the cords. The flowers bloom in shades of sunlight. Red, orange, and yellow petals tipped in black. It feels like another sign from the Great Mother. These are toruk’s colors. It determines your dress as you set aside any choice that isn’t the color of firelight and when the first drum beats begin to echo over the village you emerge from your home draped in flames.

The ceremony is beautiful as it always is. Torchlight dances over the calm waters as the village comes alive with the voices of the People. Ronal’s voice rings over the water as she formally welcomes the tulkun home, Tonowari’s booming voice seconding her words. When the time comes and the drums begin to beat anew Ronal nods to you expectantly. You stride forward in time to the music until the ocean rises up to your knees. The sound of your voice peals through the air like the caw of a bird, sharp and melodic as you begin to sing. The first verse of the song is yours alone as you dance through the water, beads and shells of your clothes tinkling with each movement. Euphoria wells inside you, blooming through your chest like a flower as you sing the story of the tulkun. It is nearly as old as the First Songs, passed down from the ancestors and your body moves with each word. Such dances tell a story, signing in a grander, more fluid way than how you speak in daily life.

Every woman of the village will play a part in this performance and their voices begin to join you. They flow together like the rise and fall of the waves as the song begins in earnest. The history of the tulkun is long and storied. It will take hours before the song is finished. By then the girls will begin to sing, their young voices swelling the music to a close as the tulkun join the chorus. The whole of the celebration moves like the tides as the crowd thins and renews in waves as more people leave and arrive. There is a whole night of celebration ahead and no one will arrive late to enjoy it. The first line of dancers falls away and you with them, returning to find Tuk bouncing excitedly on shore, her eager hopping stirring up soft bursts of sand.

“Sa’nu! Sa’nu!” Her smile is nearly wide enough to split her cheeks, round eyes wide with wonder as she grabs one of your hands in hers. The shortened aysylangtel you made for her beats against her back as she swings your arm eagerly.

“You looked so pretty, Sa’nu!” Kiri settles her hands on Tuk’s shoulders to get her to still.

“You look very lovely, Sa’nok. Your voice is beautiful.”

“Thank you, ’ite.” You dare to say. For a moment, Kiri startles, her brows rising before her face settles into a shy smile. When her gaze flits up to you through her lashes she looks content. It eases your heart to know your sister’s words have been true. Even as you saw Jakesully’s children grow closer to you like flowers bending towards the sun you hadn’t dared to claim them so forwardly, scared of the rejection. They had a mother. You seeing them, no matter how vaguely it has been, truly solidified them in your mind. No longer were they shapeless threads of words said in passing. For you to so blatantly step into that place could’ve been seen as a thing worth sneering at. But there is no offense on Kiri’s face.

“Have you seen your father?” It’s your hope that you don’t sound desperately curious asking after Jake’s whereabouts.

“Last I saw he was with olo’eyktan.”

“I will look for Tonowari then.” You find the olo’eyktan around a fire smoldering in the sand with a few men around him. Many eyes rise to meet your arrival; green, blue, and a bright shade of yellow.

“Our lovely tsakarem.” Tonowari greets you. He’s one of the few in the clan to still call you as such. There’s a fondness in his words that hasn’t wavered since the elders first declared you as a potential mate for him, though the affection between the two of you is like that of siblings. Your heart was never moved by Tonowari the same as your sister’s was. Yet the other men collected around the fire seem more enticed. Their eyes are easy to understand. Drunk from fermented juice and hearts light with the spirit of celebration, they’ve become bolder with their admirations. The only one that is unmoved by your arrival is Jake. His face is tight and guarded, eyes flickering with firelight and nothing else as he watches you watch him. It’s a wonder the way he can so completely close himself off, hiding his soul and masking his feelings. The feeling of wanting to unravel him rises again as you hold out your hand for him to take. It is a request, but there will be great pain inside you if he rejects this humble offering of reconciliation. You are at fault for gouging this rift between the two of you and it’s your hope to bridge it tonight.

For a moment he simply looks at your hand as it sits before him and there’s a cold flash of pain inside you when you realize that you might be too late. He said he would wait. Promised that he would. But perhaps you’ve made him wait for too long. It’s not until his hand joins with yours that your racing mind settles. He looks to where your hand sits in his, thumb tracing over your skin before he meets your gaze once more and it’s like a storm has lifted. The silence between the two of you still speaks so many words as you watch the light of the fire play over his features. Feeling emboldened you pull him away from the men around the fire.

“You must dance.” Jake is already shaking his head before you’re more than two steps from where he’d been sitting.

“You must. It is the way!” A new verse has started and the melody has shifted. In the time of the First Songs the tulkun were unruly. Fighting amongst themselves, killing each other. This new rhythm marks the turn in their histories when they began to see that killing only brings about more killing. It is a livelier tune more fit for dancing than what you had first sung when the celebration began. Already couples are forming on the beach, eager to enjoy the night’s festivities.

“Go,” Tonowari laughs when Jake looks to olo’eyktan for help. “She is one of the best dancers in the clan. You will enjoy yourself.”

“I’ve never been a very good dancer.” Jake laughs as you drag him into the crowd.

“Then show me a dance you know.” The dances of the Metkayina are complex. Men and women face each other and move in a winding line that spins and twirls like waves, weaving between each other and switching partners as you go. It will surely be too much for Jake to learn in a night and he seems to ease at the thought of not joining the already dizzying swirl of dancers. The dance he teaches you is comparatively simple yet more intimate. There’s a closeness about it as you press your hands and chests together before stepping away from each other. Eventually Jake doesn’t want to part and his hands twine with yours, lowering them but not letting go.

“And who taught you this dance Toruk Makto?” The smile on his face slips at your playful words. Sadness flashes in his eyes before it settles into something fond as he releases one of your hands to catch the curve of your cheek in his palm.

“My muntxate.” As soon as he says it his ears fall in shame. Just for a moment it feels as if he isn’t seeing you even as his bright eyes rest on your face.

“Come,” you say to break him from his reverie. “I want to show you something.” He lets you lead him to the water’s edge, following behind when you mount your ilu. Jake says nothing as the two of you ride past the edge of the reef into open waters. There still isn’t much danger so close to the village and you only go as far as a smaller island just outside the safety of the seawall. Jake is silent through all of it, allowing you to lead him wherever you please.

The island’s shores are stony and thick with trees, the world alight with a familiar blue and green glow so far from the light of torches. Jake watches as you dance through the trees, happiness still soaring in your heart despite his soured attitude.

“I’m sorry.” He says, finally breaking his silence.

“What is there to be sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he insists, “not to you.”

“Why shouldn’t you? Unless you are running from me now, Jakesully.”

“Never.” You hear the hesitance in his voice even as he grabs your hand to pull you closer. He looks beautiful in the light of the trees. It’s different from the hues of the village where everything is drawn close to shore over the light of the ocean. Jake looks more at ease here. It is not the forest but it must feel like something close to home for him, or at least that was your hope in bringing him here.

“But it feels wrong. To talk about her. With you.”

“Jake, you said that I may have you. That you will be mine. I do not want just a part of you.”

“You have me, yawne, I swear. I meant what I said that night. I’m yours.” He suddenly seems frantic.

“Jake, I am not ignorant. I know that you have lived before we met. You were tawtute, uniltìrantokx, Toruk Makto. You’ve carried many names, led many lives. I was not a part of it until now. Why would I fault you for decisions made before we met?”

“It doesn’t bother you? That I was mated before now?”

“It did. I felt like I was taking something from someone else. But not anymore. We do not have to be mated before Eywa. I know that tsaheylu is sacred. Knowing that I’m yours is enough.” The words pain your heart but it is a sacrifice that you are willing to make to stay by his side. Bonds aren’t made frivolously. To form tsaheylu is to commit your souls to one another for life, and he has already given that part of himself to another. Life has parted them but, to him, it must feel like a wound that will never heal. It would be wrong of you to ask when he has already given you so much. His eyes search yours and you’re grateful that Eywa has not given your gift to everyone. If she had he would see the falsehood in your words. Still he reassures you.

“I chose you. I want you. All of you.” His hands move from yours, drawing up the length of your arms and the curve of your shoulders until he’s holding your face with the softest touch.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispers so quietly that you’re not sure you were meant to hear, but the sentiment is shared. He is beautiful. Thick locs, yellow eyes, soft stomach. He leans into your touch when your hands find his face in turn, thumbs brushing over the light of his tanhì and the dark shapes of his pil. So different but so familiar.

“Come, I have something to show you.” Jake seems to be in lighter spirits, as playful as he’d been on the night the two of you climbed the terraces. His hand tugs at your tail as you lead him further inland, laughing when you swing your hips to smack him with it. It’s a beautiful sound. One that you prefer to the melancholic tone he’d taken earlier.

“It’s here.” You watch Jake’s face as he ducks into the clearing hidden by low hanging leaves. His head tilts, tail swaying inquisitively behind him.

“What is it?”

“I do not know. I found it once when I was young, avoiding my training as a hunter. Ronal and I call it Wayutral.”

“Tree of Songs?” He’s curious now, ears flickering in interest. The tree is small by comparison to the rest rising to the sky around you. It’s rooted in the basin of a tide pool, trunk twisted like a braid, with only its spindly branches dotted with glowing pink flowers reaching above the glowing water. It’s a strange tree but Pandora is full of such curiosities. Gifts from the Great Mother. The bark of the tree is soft and glows a pale purple at the gentlest touch, lighting veins through the tree when you connect your tswin. In an instant you hear voices raise in a joyous song. It is not always the same but they’re always familiar. Sometimes a lullaby from childhood or one of the First Songs. Today the tree sings a tulkun song meant to welcome a new birth, their voicing ringing deep and haunting in your mind.

“What do you hear?” You ask as Jake ties his tswin to the tree. His brows draw down and his ears tighten against his head. Perhaps it is a sad song the Wayutral has shown him.

“It’s a tawtute song. Like a Taronway. Marines chant it during training.”

“Marines?” Your Na’vi tongue stumbles over the syllables of the word. Another English word for you to learn. Jake breaks tsaheylu and your heart wilts. This was meant to be a happy exchange and it’s been spoiled by memories of his past.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes away the thought.

“I’m sorry. Wayutral only sings memories. I didn’t know what it would show you.” You draw your tswin over your shoulder, fingers picking at the bright flowers of your aysylangtel. The bright petals begin to gray under your anxious fingers until Jake collects your hands in his. His eyes linger on the length of the orange flowers, or perhaps he’s staring at your tswin. Either way his eyes draw away slowly, blinking away the distraction as his eyes meet yours.

“It’s not your fault, sweet girl. I’m not upset, it’s just been so long since I heard anything like that. Brought back memories.”

“Bad memories?”

“Some.” His tone is clipped and he looks lost in thought as his five fingers play over yours. He maps the pattern of your skin with his fingertips until you break his trance with a thought you meant to keep tucked inside.

“I wish I knew.” It’s the truth. There is so much about Jake that you’ve yet to learn but your heart yearns to know every piece of him. But you hadn’t meant to let your longing slip off your tongue. A twinge of shame swims through your chest once more. His life as a tawtute is behind him and yet you want to know what he had been like. So much of his life has happened without you. It’s so uncommon to mate outside of your clan, outside of those that have been beside you since birth. Tonowari grew up beside you and Ronal and yet here is this man that was a stranger some months ago and it’s all you can do to not beg him to sing you the story of his life. You were raised to be in step with Eywa. To listen to her guidance and the spirits of the world around you. A tsahìk does not wait for Eywa’s word, she is always listening. That is what the former tsahìk taught you. Now your ears are eager to listen to every beat of Jake’s spirit. If he were a woven fabric the threads would be many colors, patterns varied as he passed through the different stages of his life.

“You want to know, yawntutsyìp?” His tone is lightened now, eyes bright with mirth as he teases your curiosity. It makes your ears lower bashfully, eyes falling away from him as heat creeps over your cheeks. Jake is quick to draw your gaze back to him with a hand under your chin.

“Don’t be shy now, yuey. If you want to know, I can show you. I can show you everything. Let me give you everything.” His lips find yours, closing the space between you. He kisses you like you are the air in his lungs after going without. Deep and desirous as if he’s trying to draw all that you are into himself, trying to taste your soul on his tongue as it grazes yours. It’s enough to make you sigh against his lips and the sound draws a satisfied smile to his lips. Jake doesn’t let you part more than a hair’s breadth from him, thumbs hooked under the curve of your jaw as he nuzzles against your cheeks.

“I want you with me.” He whispers. “Let me be with you.” A hand leaves your skin, the place he held going cold in an instant, as he draws his tswin over his shoulder.

“This is what I want.” His voice rings with assuredness. “I want this. I want you. All of you.” There isn’t a moment of hesitation as you lift your flowered braid from your shoulder. Your eyes follow the searching tendrils as they twine together until your vision goes white.

The feeling is something beyond words. Every piece of your being is lit like a flame, burning and melting as light bursts behind your eyes. It knocks you to your knees as you feel yourself tear and mend all at once, expanding and joining until there is no part of you–body or soul–that doesn’t feel touched by Jake’s presence. His gasping breath becomes your own. Your hearts beat in tandem. Everything that he is becomes a part of you, the roots of your love winding deeper than they had before. Your voice stutters when you finally find the words to speak.

“I feel you.” They’re hardly words as they fall soft as the wind from your parted lips. Jake laughs and his happiness echoes through tsaheylu. He is content as he basks in your presence. More than just being together under the light of the stars, you’re joined in tirea.

“Ma Jake.” You’re still breathless, still floating on the waves of joy. Every fiber of your being has been tied with his and you can’t tell where you end and he begins as he pulls you into his chest. Gentle hands guide your hazy eyes back to his.

“My girl,” he says through a kiss. “Oel ngati kameie.” He means it. With everything that he is, he means it. Those words, so simple, so common, draw the last dregs of pain and hesitance from your heart. He is yours. You are his.

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Nalutsa – a marine animal similar to an akula

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Vitra, Tirea – soul, spirit

Yawne, Yawntutsyìp – beloved, darling

Tawtute, Sawtute – sky person, sky people

Ranteng Utralti – Spirit Tree

Tswin – neural braid

Tanhì – star, bioluminescent freckles

Atokirina’ – woodsprite, seed of the Tree of Souls

Aysnatanhì – constellations

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Aysylangtel – flower cords, daisy chain (speculative)

‘Ite – daughter

Muntxate – wife, female mate

Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker, avatar

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Wayutral – Tree of Songs (speculative)

Taronway – hunt songs

#jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

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keisobe · 1 year

Text

; 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧)

⎯ from spider-man : across the spiderverse (spoiler free!!)

✮. ⋆ after a successful date with hobie, you show your gratitude by surprising him with the frills and bows you’ve been hiding throughout the night. + wc. 3.1k

content. afab reader. graphic smut. semi-dom reader. sub hobie. unprotected sex. oral sex (m receiving). creampie. established relationship. pet names. first time together.

notes. this fic was based off two anon requests asking for ‘polar opposites’ and ‘dom reader’. i hope that i fulfilled those request perfectly and also hope you guys enjoy this hobie smut (ik i wrote his accent terribly lol) ♡

The shuffle of your footsteps traveled through the dark apartment, laughter and the jingle of keys filled the bleak atmosphere as you and Hobie situated yourself into the warm comfort of your flat. You flicked the light switch as you laughed along a joke he made about the creep in the pub that tried to hit on you.

It was a momentarily tragic incident, an unfamiliar touch to your ass while you were simply ordering from the bartender had your heart drop in terror. That was until Hobie stepped him and pushed the creep down to the floor, guiding himself with his broken fall as he laid bone shattering punches onto the guy’s face. It was then that the both of you were kicked out for ‘causing a violent disturbance’, all because an ambulance had to be sent out. Although the booze was out of reach for the night, the date was still a success as Hobie made it up by sneaking you both into a runway show happening near the heart of London. You got to sit alongside celebrities you’ve seen pictures in the magazines you owned. It was one of the best dates you’ve ever been on and it was all thanks to Hobie.

To show your gratitude, you begged him to come back to your place. Hobie didn’t hesitate to accept the offer, letting you excitedly walk him to your flat as the full moon shedded a guiding light towards your destination.

Now he’s in your room, looking adorably out of place as his roughen up exterior was completely surrounded by your sickly sweet and soft trinkets and decor.

“Hmm… wat’s this lil’ cute thing?”

You turned curiously as you propped yourself comfortably onto the strawberry comforter, scrambling off the white fur coat and the glossy heels you’ve worn throughout the night. Hobie was holding up your Hello Kitty plush, poking in the beaded black eyes and fiddling with the sewn bow with utter confusion.

“Never heard of Hello Kitty before?” You teased, tearing off your ruffled socks as the warmth of your room hit your bare skin.

“Nah, ain’t my style babe.” Hobie quipped as he gently placed it back beside your abundance of jewelry and makeup, smiling at the typical pattern with all your belongings; dainty and pink. “But perhaps ‘ll get more for you.”

His words fall into deaf ears as he gives himself a second to take in your entire room. Everything was absolutely adorable. It was a contrast from his own living space— his wallpaper looking like a scrapbook and his furniture beaten to death. There was something accelerating about you being the complete opposite of him. Someone so well-put together and could be comparable to a doll. While he’s rugged and has been called a ‘toy that’s been scribbled by a toddler’ by one of his bandmates.

You coughed a little bit to steal his attention, internally giggling to yourself as Hobie was completely mesmerized by your room. You gave him a moment to look around more for a few seconds until you began to dramatically yawn, sounding like a broken moan that made his ears twitch.

When he finally turned to look at you, Hobie couldn’t help but nervously chuckle as he ran a hand over his flushed face. Fuck, there you were, sprawled on the bed with soft pink lingerie. The bows and frills fitted your curves perfectly, the silky fabric made your skin glow in the dimly lit room. You look like an angel— at least that’s what Hobie thought.

You smirked at his dazed look as you got up on your knees, looping your fingers on his belt loops and tugging him closer to the bed.

He broke out of his trance from the sudden movement, a cocky smile plastered into his face.

“‘s why were you so eager to bring me to your flat?” He titled your chin as he caressed a thumb over your cheek, allowing your hands to work on his studded belts.

“Maybe.”

“Needy lil’ one.”

You laughed at that. Touché.

As each belt fell on the floor with a solid clink, Hobie retracted his melting touch to discard his leather jacket and torn shirt— coming off swiftly with each pull. He kicked off his laced boots when you unzipped and discarded his pants, tugging at his briefs with surprising strength as he clumsily landed on top of you. You ran a hand over his bare chest, reluctantly passing over a silver piercing on his nipples. You knew he was hot, but he just got even hotter.

“Lay down for me.” You ordered right as Hobie's hand hovered over your hips.

He looked stunned for a moment before smirking, raising his hands as he surrendered himself to you.

“‘es ma’am.”

Doing exactly what he was told, Hobie flipped over to his back against the comforter, brushing a hand onto your thigh as you positioned yourself between his spread legs. Without any more hesitation, you gave into your desires and began to crawl onto his long torso— locking your lips onto his. You felt a smile curl on his lips as he deepened the kiss, guiding your tongues to tangle together. Hobie craned his head to drag his teeth against your quivering lips, grazing a soft hand along your flushed cheeks. He could taste you, finally. This yearning he had for you throughout the night was well worth it at the end. It couldn’t be helped that he was a little obsessed with you. Especially with your taste on his tongue, Hobie couldn’t restrain himself to push further into your mouth— licking along your molars as drool ran down both your chins.

You whimpered into his mouth until he pulled away with a labored breath, a string of saliva connecting your lips together. A soft glint in his eyes made your heart skip a beat for a moment, until your eyes gazed towards the vein running down his neck.

Not worrying to catch some air, you kissed along his jawline with utter need. Lolling your tongue along the juncture of his neck and closing it off with a harsh bite with the goal to leave an obvious mark that he wouldn’t dare hide with his chokers. A deep groan rumbled in Hobie's chest as he gave into your mouth, each lick going lower and lower along his body. You lapped along the metal bar on his nipple, kissing and marking his toned stomach, and finally laying your tongue down to the trail of coarse hair that continued under his lousy waistband.

Being face-to-face with the tent in his briefs sent your nerves on edge as his erection was utterly palpable. The outline of his cock bobbed under the confining fabric as a wet spot began to ooze out from your needy advances. This new display of hobie made all your purest thoughts incinerate into intense ardor. The wetness between your legs seeping through your own garments.

Hobie clicked his tongue with impatience, pulling you back from your lustful hallucination.

“C'mon love, don’ shy away now.” Hobie cooed as he rested his muscular arms under his head, craning it a bit to get a perfect view of your dazed eyes and his erection. If he could capture this moment, he would have hundreds of them plastered on his walls.

Wordlessly, you slowly slid down the waistband with anticipation, feeling the warmth radiating off his clothed cock pass along your cheeks, before the elastic finally wrapped around his thighs. A low hiss slipped through Hobie's lips as the brief contact of cold air drifted along his freed cock, springing to its full length as it slapped heavily against his bruised stomach. He was huge; his length well passed over his navel and the thickness can be comparable to your wrist. But what’s had you gawking hard is the details of his cock. A prominent vein running down the underside of his length. But then you happen to gaze at a hint of silver— leading to three metal bars pierced along his frenum. Holy shit, Hobie had dick piercings.

“Should I be upset at the person who pierced your dick?” You jested, but your stomach turned at the fact that someone else already saw his cock before you.

Hobie chuckled, taking a hand out to teasingly stroke his length in front of your sour expression, giving you a good eyeful of the glistening precum running down his glaring piercings and tightening skin.

“Upset at me? ‘s not really fair innit?”

You bit back a relieved grin at his reply. You should’ve known. Either way, the fluttering pride in your stomach directed you back into your lustful advances. You’ll make him feel good then.

There's no time for Hobie to tease your jealousy when you lap the full length of his cock, leaving a salty and bitter taste tingling on your taste buds. An unexpected whimper managed to escape his mouth, making you smile pridefully. Your tongue worked its way onto his glistening, swollen tip. Hobie snagged the strawberry printed comforter under him, mumbling curses under his breath as you began to gently suckle the redden head of his cock, careful not to scrape your teeth. You purse your lips along his tip and continue to relentlessly tease his cockhead, its shade of red deepening with each swipe of your tongue. Finally, with precum coating your lips and Hobie’s restraint slowly breaking loose, you bottom out completely and begin to create a steady pace around his length.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” Hobie managed to sigh through his swollen lips, giving in to his temptations of forcibly touching you as he latched onto the back of your neck— firm yet gentle to the touch.

His sweet touch quickly became desperate, as hobie began to pace your mouth faster around his cock, leaving a sore ache to your jaw and the repeated stabbing sensation of his tip sliding down your resisting throat. Fuck it hurts, but it felt so good. Especially when hobie was spitting out a bunch of sweet nothings and Hobie curses, and the occasional addicting groans whenever you would lewdly gurgle around his length. Before he could come undone, Hobie urgently grabbed onto the roots of your hair and pulled you away from his throbbing cock. With teary eyes and cum stained cheeks, you coughed and inhaled deeply. Hobie quickly came to your aid afterwards, petting your head gently as his thumb swiped over the spittle of precum glossing over your lips.

“Wan’ stop?” His concern was genuine, but he couldn’t help but admit that you looked really good right now. Tongue coated with his essence, lashes wet and eyes glistening, Hobie just wanted to go the full ride. But only if you wanted to.

Your weak smile reassures him as you cutely shake your head. He gave you a sweet peck on the lips before he lifted you onto his torso. You straddled his slim frame as he eagerly kneaded the softness of your hips. Hobie took in your outfit one last time. Tugging onto the pretty, lacey frills that made his head spin exactly how it did the first time he met you. Fuck, he never even knew pink would look so good on someone until he met you. An absolute princess, he thought. With his dark eyes teaching over your features, his sneaky hand reaches around the hooks of your bra, expertly popping off the clasps with total finesse. The garment slid down your arms and was discarded with the rest of your clothing.

God, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your tits. Every curve, shadow, and tiny details on your sacred flesh lessened his self control. Hobie begins to rut against you, latching his mouth onto a nipple as his spindly fingers began to grope more and more of your exposed body. You sighed as his suckling became more heated and desperate, hollowing his sunken cheeks and filling his tongue with the taste of your hardened buds. Then each suck became bites— bites that littered a bruise on your delicate skin. He wanted to show you off, to that sick bastard that touched you at the bar, the random eyeing you when you guys walked back to your home. Hobie never felt this before, was he feeling jealousy too? Huh, he’s learning many new things today.

“Hobie…” You panted, cradling his face so gently. Hobie could literally get on his knees right now and—

“Let me ride you.”

He rasped a low fuck and nodded with obedience that he never knew existed in his genes.

You tore off your underwear with vigor, a clear strand of your arousal connecting to your sensitive pussy. His cock jutted as you steadied yourself, grabbing firmly onto the thick base. It took so much willpower to not piston his hips right now, but his wishes came true when you sunk down halfway down his pulsing cock. With this newfound connection, the both of you moaned at the same time— your tight walls wrapping around Hobie and his impressive length absolutely wrecking you before you could move your hips.

“Fuckin’ shit– move, move babe. Please.” His begging sounded like music to your ears.

So you lifted your hips and pushed down with a groan.

And everything happened so quickly afterwards.

The heady scent of sex wavered around the warm air, echoes of skin slapping creeping along the empty hallway, your hands sprawled along Hobie’s glowing chest, and your rhyming hips diving down his length that left traces of your arousal along his pubic bone. Control never felt so good. Especially when it comes to Hobie, someone with anarchistic tendencies and despises being ordered around, is now a whimpering mess under you. No snarky quips, relentless teasing, or his usual lopsided grin. He was unraveling, purring and groaning with deep satisfaction, pinching the faces and limbs of your stuffed toys that were disheveled on your bed. There was a whole audience of them, stitched out smiles and detailed eyes that made it seem directed toward the two of you.

And Hobie loved it. Though it was incomparable to the crowds he’d performed in front of, these ones resemble you. Back when he saw you stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of metal chains and spiked hair. He vividly remembered the fluffy white dress and pearls that adorned your hair. He’d be crazy not to take you behind stage right after his performance, and so he did. Now, his current circumstances have him in a blissful state, under the same girl who was too shy to even ask for an autograph.

It’s filthy, having the sight of you bouncing around his cock, the cute little accessories unkempt in your hair, makeup smudged and faded.

But your sight was better. A halo of plushies surrounding Hobie, his eyes teary with hot pleasure, veins protruding along his glowing skin. It’s a sight that had your slick walls tightening around him like a vice and setting up for a mind-shattering orgasm.

“Feeling good love?”

Hobie furrowed his brows, his cartilage bobbing with a thick swallow.

“Y-Yea babe… shit,” Hobie deeply groans, eyes fluttering open with a smirk. “Oh, y-you’r my mine you know that? Can only make me feel this good, yea?”

He was back. Not that you mind, his praising words only made you fuck him harder— more desperate, like you’re chasing down for his cock. The soft ridges of his tip brushed along a spot that made your knees wobble and nearly lock in place. Hobie took the courtesy to start snapping his hips against yours, meeting your quivering thrust halfway. His slender hands were more frantic, a thumb rapidly rolling over your swollen clit and a palm grabbing your thigh for leverage. With his new advances, you began to thrash and whine, mindlessly pleading to Hobie like a broken vinyl. Pleading him to keep going.

His spider senses were on a scale that he never knew could be reached. Prickles along his dewy skin, the tips of his ears twitching with every yelp and mewl that escaped your glossy lips. He can feel your approaching orgasm himself, the warm buzz spreading along his groin was like electricity. He can even feel himself on the edge, his demanding, measured thrust faltering to a desperate, sloppy mess.

“I’m gonna cum.” You rasped with need, your hips sputtering and clumsily losing its tempo.

“Yea, I know.” Hobie slurred through clenched teeth.

Then both of you released at the same time: you, gushing around his heavy length with one final drag against your sweet spot and him; mesmerized by your scrunched up features as his cock spurted hot, messy cum inside you.

Falling into his arms with exhaustion, Hobie immediately nestled you into a comforting embrace. You fit perfectly with his body, the blank spaces filled with your tightly pressed limbs like it was meant to be pieced together; each pant and heartbeat completely in sync. Both of you were sticky, sweaty, and dulled from overwhelming arousal.

“Up top?” Hobie held at his palm, a playful smile adoring his attractive face.

You grinned back, slapping your clammy palm together as his spindly fingers laced around yours, locking your hand in a comforting hold.

“ ‘s fine that I…?” Oh yeah. He came inside you.

“You’re good, see, look?” You propped yourself up and shook the plastic case that contained your birth control. This new position you were in gave Hobie a nice glimpse of his seed slowly running down your leg.

Hobie let out a reverb chuckle, patting at your thighs with adoration.

“Just makin’ sure, ‘m not ready to be a dad yet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you adjusted yourself back onto the bed. The brief moment of silence was comforting, weirdly domestic. His slow breathing sounded familiar from your dreams, his caresses nearly lulling you to sleep. Then you broke the silence.

“You know… I would’ve gotten with you way before if I knew you’d fuck me this silly,” you jested, lightly tracing over the silver punctures on his brow bones, to the metallic bar hooked around his soft lips. He leaned into your touch, kissing your palm sweetly.

“Didn’ kno’ you’d like someone as shabby as me.” There was a little shame with Hobie’s confession. He was anxious that his striking contrast from you would draw you away, not like he would usually care, but there was a feeling inside him that drew him closer to you. He didn't want to lose you.

“Shabby? No, you’re actually adorable.” You reassured him softly.

Hobie scoffed out of flusteredness, biting back a satisfied grin.

Adorable? Him? Impossible.

“Wan’ me to leave?” He jokingly pointed towards the door.

You snickered at his teasing, reaching over the piles of discarded clothing and tossing on his loose band shirt.

“Without a nice, hot shower?”

Hobie smiled wickedly. Touché.

“Sounds li’ somethin’ I don’t miss out on.”

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂#ੈ♡˳ — (atsv) 📁#ੈ♡˳ — (spiderverse) 📁#ੈ♡˳ — (hobie brown) 🎞️#— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : fics #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader smut #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #spiderpunk smut #spiderpunk x reader #atsv

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snomoscribbles · 7 months

Text

Nanui x Avatar!reader

Rated: Explicit🔞

Tags: fluff and smut, sass, teasing, cunnilingus, eating out, body differences, size difference AO3 Link

(2nd person pov gender neutral terms used) "Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been."

°•°•°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°•°•°

To be completely fair you never thought you'd end up here.

Here being a Metkayina settlement.

When it had been brought up after the bloodshed and chaos, the Metkayina were in need of aid you weren't really expecting to be first on the list for that flight.

And yet. Here you are on the sandy shores of Awa'atlu.

It had been sometime since you ventured too far from the home base. From the Omatikayan. And when you'd arrived you were not prepared for the absolute units that were waiting to greet you.

Omatikaya we're not small. Avatars and their hybrid genes were not small. But the Metkayina were fucking huge. A whole nother level of too damn big.

It was intimidating and interesting from a scientific perspective. The adaptations and changes made to their bodies to make living here easier.

Flat paddle like tails, finned forearms for swimming, teal gradients dappled on their skin to better suit the waves, and don't even get yourself started on the mass of them.

Larger chest and stockier build for the lung capacity they no doubt needed paired with the muscle to swim against ocean currents.

These were some built navi.

And the cherry on top was ink and swirling tattoos tracing the contours of their bodies. The dark markings contrasting with their lighter colors. It was really breathtaking, even the older clan members whose tattoos started to fade over time looked stunning with the meaningful patterns.

Yet as large and imposing as they could be, you found yourself more at home here than you were expecting.

The salty air and sunshine, the glow under the waves at night, and....maybe the company.

You glance over as you make your way across the woven paths of the village, basket of beads and an odd twine of sorts in your hands.

The tattooed craftsman sat as poised as always, a warm smile on his face and ever clear blue eyes hooded with his gaze focused on his work.

Nanui.

The weaver had definitely become someone you'd consider close. A friend.

Just a friend you swore. No matter how many knowing glances and suggestive grins you got from fellow avatar program survivors and other clansmen.

The friendly and warm hearted Navi had caught your attention when you first landed. Understandably after the war was brought to them, most of the Metkayina were wary of strangers. Especially the avatars. But they swallowed some dignity to get the help they needed and you tried your best to be respectful of that.

The first time you set your gaze on him you had to pointedly look UP to see those large inquisitive crystalline eyes. Even amongst his clan, he was tall. You'd imagine he was at least 10 feet tall, which put him about 12 inches and some change taller than you. Your avatar body wasn't the tallest for the Omatikayan, but you were pretty average.

Nanui had a tired and worn but welcoming smile on his face while he explained he would be your guide for the time you were here. No doubt he'd been working on the recovery of his people.

At first you thought the huge man was a guard of sorts meant to keep an eye on you so you didn't cause trouble in the community. It would make sense. But over the weeks you came to realize he was probably one of the few willing to volunteer to be near you at all.

Soon your large guide became a treasured companion, nudging you gently to correct your mistakes when you misspoke or to fix a task you tried to pick up to help the clan. Making jokes and teasing your differences good naturedly. Encouraging your progress with that loud heartfelt laugh and unabashedly cheering when you succeeded.

He seemed to sense your staring and perked up, meeting your gaze with hum of question and a tilt of his head.

"Ah it is the ungrateful one. How are we feeling today, hm?"

You can't help the small laugh and roll of your eyes, padding over to set down your basket of goodies for the weaving circle as you sat down beside him. Your traitorous tail flicked excitedly behind you, but luckily the teal man seemed to pay no mind.

"Im not ungrateful, just untalented. I told you already, Nanui if I could manage to learn to weave, I would."

"You have so little faith in yourself! Anyone can learn in time and time is everywhere. See? You're wasting it right now. You could be stringing beads!"

He grinned, giving you a gentle shove with that joyous laugh that always made your stomach do flips.

"Just because I have a Fifth finger, does not mean I can suddenly make complex patterns out of grass like you do."

"Who said suddenly, hm? I said you need to put time forward to earn your talents. All of you are the same. Flaunting your gifted fifth finger, but not putting it to use! What good is it just sitting there on a lazy hand, hm?"

He reaches over and wiggles your wrist around childishly with a firm pout, making your hand flop around limply.

You steal your hand back with a laugh, "Excuse you sir, they're not lazy. Just... Not as handy as they should be."

The large Navi paused as the words processed and you watch with rapt attention as a smile grew and soon he lets out a deep rich laugh that shakes his shoulders.

"Because it is your hand! Handy! I understand!"

You crack the sappiest smile at his excitement, shaking your head. The Metkayina had taken some time to understand puns but they delighted him once the learning period had passed.

You scoot in closer to look at what he's working on, eyebrows raised curiously.

"So what's today's project,hm?"

"Oh! I am redoing some beaded cords for the entrance of my sisters Marui. My nephews have torn her previous one down with their play. That I...may or may not have taken part in...."

"So you're fixing the entryway beads you tore down chasing Le'awe and Roxua?"

"That is not what I said." He muttered, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his lips with his ears down turned in effort.

"Uh-huh." You hum knowingly with a chuckled.

"Oh, before I forget!" He perks up, setting his beaded project down gently, "I have something for you. Every time I see you walking around you seem so.... Bare."

You look down at your standard RDA clothing. You wouldn't say bare, you were more clothed than any Navi you'd met.

T shirt and shorts made for the avatars. They were easy and made you feel a little more comfortable than most of the pieces you'd been offered by the Omatikayan.

Worried he was going to offer you one of the lovely but very sparse clothing pieces often worn by the Metkayina you default to declining.

"Nanui I'm not really-"

"Here see?" He moved around a couple fronds and unfinished weaving projects before finally pulling out a lovely woven circle with pearls and smoothed sea glass of greens and blues dotting between the braided leather.

"I...an arm band? How will that make me less bare...?" Your voice was soft as you took the offered gift, eyes wide and ears standing at attention to reflect your interest.

It was really beautiful.

"You wear more cloth than anyone I've seen, but it lacks history. No sentiment or care in this weaving." He tugs at the edge of your shirt pointedly, "You are bare of soul. And someone who shines as brightly as you, should have some, yeah?"

You choke up a little, lower lip wobbling at the kind words. You can hear your heart in your ears as you timidly offer him the band.

"Can-can you help me put it on?"

"Of course." He smiles warmly, "I hope this helps you feel more at home here. You grow more and more each day. It's been a privilege to teach you."

His touch is cool against your flushed skin, still warm from the heat of the afternoon and the day of work behind you.

He ties the armband tight enough that it won't budge and it sits comfortably on your bicep. Your skin tingles from the contact of his fingertips that you could swear lingered longer then needed.

You swallow thickly, looking at the Metkayina with a fond smile.

You settle yourself with a small breath, the fingers of your free hand tracing idly back and forth across your new accessory. Definitely a new sensory toy for you. The smooth pearls and tight pattern feel nice under your nervous tracing.

C'mon he made an opening, you can nudge this in the right direction with a little honesty. You got this.

"You know....I do feel more at home here. But that's...um. mostly your doing honestly."

"Hm? Well I would hope so. I am your guide after all. I did not think I was doing the worst of jobs."

You recognize an out for what it is, but clear your throat with a shake of your head.

"No...Nanui. I think....Well you've come to mean a lot to me. And I don't know exactly how that works for you guys here, but I just really wanted to say something because well...I..."

The teal Navi stares at you blankly for a moment and you can feel your nerves start to creep in. But soon the darkest flush you've seen on a Metkayina probably ever lights up his face, ears quivering with whatever emotions were going through his head.

The sound of swishing sand drags your eyes away for just a moment to reveal his large tail dragging back and forth behind him.

The project he'd been holding gets cast aside as he moves towards you, the size difference between you two glaringly obvious when he places his large hands on either side of you and leans down enough so his words are soft for just the two of you. You're close enough to see the soft greens and teals streaked through the icy blue of his eyes.

He tilts his head in question, inky black curls and braids spilling over broad shoulders.

"Are you asking about courting?"

"Y-yeah. I guess I am. Or at least the uh...before courting? Just...showing intent?"

He grins big and wide, prominent dimples dipping at either side. He needed to stop that right now. Something that large shouldn't be that cute.

"Ma'Paskalin, just saying so is perfectly acceptable. Grand gestures are appreciated but you do not need to waste such things on me."

You flush, heat staining your cheeks and manage a belligerent pout despite your excitement at the pet name.

"It's not wasted! If it's you. You're worth some grand gestures or gifts at least."

His smile turns soft and he tilts his head the other way in a gooey heartbreaking puppy eyed look that has you weak.

"You are a gift as you are, Ma'Paskalin. I don't think I could ask Eywa for more."

Oh what the fuck. Right through the heart.

You push a hand to his chest, nudging him back with a flustered huff leaving your lips. You don't push him too far, keeping your hand against the cool teal skin as you mutter in response.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Jesus. I just...I want to do something. Or just ... Have a way for others to know that We are...I don't know together?"

He takes your hands in his gently, pulling them from where they rested at his collarbone to hold them between you two.

He has a crooked smile, tone playful.

"You wish to claim me?"

"I....yeah. yes. If that's what you want?"

"Hm...if there is doubt, perhaps I should make a larger effort to be sure you feel wanted, Yawne. Because I want you."

He brings your hand up, lacing his large fingers with yours from behind and placing a gentle kiss to your palm. Your breath hitches, his words flustering you and making you swallow thickly.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been.

Nanui had always been more affectionate. You'd grown accustomed to leaning on him at group gatherings, the way he gently guided you this way and that with those large hands, his affectionate headbutts when you leaned close enough.

But this. This was a whole different level. The was rarely a moment in Nanuis presence that you weren't being swept into a loose hold. His arms at your waist, sliding around your hips to rest with his chin set atop your head or shoulder while you all conversed with whoever that day.

Tender kisses were pushed to your head, your shoulders, your nose, anytime he laid eyes on you, the affection was expected and sought after. Cool smiling lips against sun warmed skin, picking out luminescent freckles between azure stripes. It didn't take you long to start leaning into it, a rumbling of approval from deep in the Navis chest letting you know he was pleased when you did so.

That sounds alone would send a delighted shiver right down your spine.

He grew more bold as you relaxed into his affections, pinching gently at your tail as he passed and making you yelp and swat at him, tugging you to lay on his chest while the two of you swam, floating and propelling you through the water with sluggish kicks, his fingers gently ran through your hair, assistance freely given to help you with styling it in ways that would be less effected by the waters you now traversed in daily.

He now proudly wore a crudely made necklace around his neck. Longer than his normal set with Omatikayan colors and patterns. Even if you were technically not a part of the Omatikaya clan, it was what you knew and you hoped you weren't going to insult anyone with the less than stellar craftsmanship.

But it was a courting token. And one he nearly cried for when you offered it to him, sheepishly holding the long beaded ring up for him to inspect.

He barely looked at it in honesty which you're flattered by and grateful for. You have a feeling you could've offered him anything and he would accept with gusto.

He'd dove into the necklace like he was going to battle, a dimple summoning grin on his face as he gently butted his forehead against yours.

"I see you Ma'Paskalin." He murmured softly, eyes wide with awe and affection.

You could barely breathe with his intensity, letting out a laugh and throwing your arms around those teal dappled shoulders, nuzzling your nose against his with your ears flickering with delight.

"I see you."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The eclipse had past hours ago, the celebration of the night still singing in your veins.

There had been a wonderful feast. With music and dancing into the night. The hunters had brought back an impressive catch and in the warmth of the season a gathering was overdo. And it was the first you'd witnessed since coming here.

Everyone was adorned with elaborate traditional jewelry, hand painted markings, and colorful hair pieces. Including yourself, though you still opted for a little more coverage, the ropes and beads at your hips felt nice and your skin was more open to the cool sea air.It was amazing to see. The colors and shadows dancing off of teal navi around the fire as they danced and laughed. Including yours.

Nanui was laughing loud and joyous, twirling his youngest of three nephews and letting him stand on his feet beside the roaring fire. White and yellow patterns flow down his body, streaks of colored paint dragging across the taut skin of his stomach, swirling on either side of his hips and connecting at his naval.

And as always, clasped firmly around his neck is your courting gift. You can't help the swell of affection in your chest, your fingers coming up to gently trace the shells at your own throat that he'd gifted you in return shortly after agreeing to your courting.

It was surreal and you can't fight your smile when he looks up to locks eyes with you. He's so full of life and wonder and love, it's almost overwhelming. As if he was contagious. And he was yours.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The warmth of the fire had left your skin as you stumbled your way through the sand laughing, hand in hand with the large tattooed man that had come to hold your heart.

Encompassing hands grasp your waist, fingers nearly meeting as they gently lay you down on the comfortable layered bedding in Nanui's darkening mauri.

Heated open mouthed kisses are peppered down your throat, making you arch further into the touch with a shuttered breath past your lips.

"Nnnnanui. Shit."

Teeth nibble at your collarbone, intense blue gaze flickering up as the Metkayina Navi leaves a dark possessive mark on you.

He's been paying attention, dragging his firm grip up with just enough pressure that your skin dips beneath his touch and noting every sigh and twitch you make.

"Precious....look at you Ma'Paskalin..."

He doesn't move his lips from your skin, tongue and teeth tracing the patterns and star scattered freckles as he situates himself between your parted legs. ”Is this okay,Yawne?” He breathes against your navel, intense gaze dragging upwards as he questioned softly, “I'm happy to stop where you see fit. You’ll tell me, yeah?” ”y-yeah. More than okay. Please don’t stop.” you managed to force out with a deep flush staining your face, swallowing thickly as he continues to lavish your body in affection as he descends. He takes his time to press kisses and soft bites to every mark and freckle he passes, a steady rumbling in his chest making you melt into the bedding beneath you. ”Wouldn’t dream of it, If I tasted nothing but your skin from this day forward, I would want for nothing.” That should be weird to hear, but you cant help the small whine that leaves you with the playful bite he leaves at your hip. He tucks his fingers into the corded top of your bottoms, eyes drifting up once again. You give him a nod of encouragement and he smiles big and crooked and awed and it makes your heart hurt with the flux of affection within you.

Dragging the cloth own your thighs slowly, he presses his fingers into the striped skin of your legs as he goes, bringing them back up to grip your thighs firmly once its discarded with his ear perked in interest, pupils blown wide. You part your legs to welcome wide shoulders between, the teal navi sliding his hands to the tops of your thighs to pull you in and you laugh a little at the movement.

A small gasp falls from you as he presses his lips flush against you, wasting no time before they part and soon you’re overwhelmed with the heated wet tongue dragging across you.

Your teeth clench, biting off a desperate whine as you press your hips upward into that devilish tongue. Your ears flatten against your head, the mat beneath your back the only thing grounding you as you reach between your parted thighs to grab hold of the loose curls in a tight grip.

The bluest eyes peer up at you over the beaded belt at your hips gifted by Nanui himself and left on to chime with your movements,a large scarred hand pressed against your stomach to keep you pinned while long curling strokes of that tongue against you makes you squirm against his hold. The heat builds, the air thickening around you as you buck against him fruitlessly and your breathing becomes labored.

Nothing could prepare you for the way he dove in like a man starved, consuming every gasp and whimper and sigh with a focus that had you tilting your head back, unable to handle the eye contact.

“f-fuck. Right there.”

A man on a mission, he obliges,letting his tongue out further to accommodate you. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this.With his sole focus on your pleasure and hellbent on giving you everything.

You could already feel the pressure of an oncoming release, tears not quite spilling from your watery eyes as he doubled down, hands gripping harder at your thighs, large fingers sliding against the sweat slicked skin. You expected a break somewhere between starting and now, to have a moment to breathe while he leaned back to replenish his own air. But it wasn’t happening. He explored you further,fluid drags of tongue and teeth and suction that had your toes curling and your breath stuttering. You grip his hair tighter, the Metkayina groaning lowly against you and giving another stimulant on top of his ministrations. His hair falls over his shoulders in dark waves as you manage to free it from the bun on the back of his head, giving you more to grasp. ”Shit-shit-shit. Nanui. Im gonna…please…” You’re tipping over the edge soon after when he presses in further, his hands spanning over the entirety of your hips and letting you grind into him as you reach your peak with a loud sob and tears finally spilling over.

Your thighs quake at the sides of his head, squeezing him between them as he continues his work though slower.Long languid motions that have you gasping for breath at the sensation.

But he’s not stopping. He still hasn’t run out of that famed Metkayina lung capacity and you feel yourself twisting a little in his grip.

He doesn’t relent, holding you firmly and coaxing more whines and pleas from you with every swallow and flex of his throat. You’re actively crying at this point, gasping for breath and lungs burning as you writhe. Fuck. It was too much. You’re oversensitive and the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop is how slow and warm and gentle the glide of his tongue is, tasting without pushing. Like you were his last meal and he was going to make it last as long as he could.

It wasn’t building into an orgasm like the first, it was a constant pleasure. Oozing into your body like an oil slick and coating every nerve until you were shaking and you nearly ached with it.

Water bubbles on your lashes, breath ragged and stuttered as you finally find the means to speak. ”I-I cant again…please…Nanui.”

Its only then that he pulls back, licking his lips that were shining, slick, and mildly swollen, having the nerve to look not the slightest bit out of breath as a presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, resting his cheek there to look up at you like he didn’t just eat you out until you cried with absolute adoration.

“How do you feel, Ma'Paskalin?” He slides his hands up and down your sides gently, bringing you down from your shaking over-stimulation with gentle touches as he sits up to loom over you. His eyes flicker back and forth, taking in your expression for any discomfort.

You cant help but laugh breathlessly, shaking your head.

“I feel like my bones have been replaced with jelly.”

He smiles so softly, every bit of love and affection he possessed drowning you through his large eyes.

“I will assume that’s a good thing?”

“Baby, its fucking amazing.C’mere.”You pull him down so his weight is pressed against you, firm and comforting,pressing a kiss to his nose.

“I'm not going to lie, I was freaking out when I realized you didn’t need to come up for air.”

“oh?” ”Don’t you ‘oh’ me. You know exactly what I'm talking about you free diving bastard.” ”Yawne…you have come diving with me. And you know very well I could have dived for much longer.”

You flush darkly at the thought. You did know that. You’ve seen some of the reef clan free dive for nearly half an hour. And you didn’t know if that was the longest they could go, or just what they had needed at the time. Jesus. ”Well. I uh- I guess we’ll have to test that.”

There's a mischievous grin on his face as he leaned down to butt his forehead against yours in the sweetest movement, taking your chin in between his fingers. With the size of his hand it was really more like pinching most of your jaw. ”Anytime you’d like, Kalin. Im happy to indulge.” {Kalin: sweet to the taste}

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