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theblueflower05 · 2 years ago

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Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

(Part Three of the First Love/Late Spring series)

A/N: This is a monster of a part. I thought about splitting it into two but it just wouldn’t make sense to the story! I hope you babies like it.

Word Count: 10+ (holy fuck)

Warnings: This story is smut filled. All future installments of this story will be explicit.

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Oral(female & male receiving), fingerfucking. Penetrative sex. Breeding. Talks of anal. Spanking. Cum eating. Dirty talking. A bit of exhibitionism if ya squint. Pretty much all the sexy sexual things you can imagine.

Summary: You and Neteyam move into your new home and spend your first Fertility Season together. Neteyam x Metkayina Reader

Series Masterlist (all parts can be found here)

Previous:<Crawling Back to You

Next:> Part Four (currently unnamed)

Honey, I belong with you

And only you babe.

Only you my girl. Only you, babe.

Only you darling. Only you- Dark Red, Steve Lacy

You had never been good with change.

Your steadfast nature flourished in routine. You found happiness in the known. In your corner of the world, mixing tinctures and tending to your clan. You’d been well aware of your role from a young age, had thought you’d understood the great mother’s plan for your life-

And then the Sully’s had ridden in on the strong east wind.

There had been invisible strings at play.

Unbeknownst to you fate had threaded you to a future that you couldn't have foreseen even in your wildest dreams. Entangled your heartlines with the last person you ever would’ve expected-

You think about the fact as you stare out at the choppy sea. Your hands are busy collecting the last of your belongings, but your mind is far away. Distracted and restless as the storms that gather along the coastline. The sky is dark and rain already falls in a light misting.

Fertility Season is here, palpable as it rolls over the village of Awa’atlu.

You’ve never experienced it this way, always a spectator and never a participant. Normally at this time of year you’d be preparing to assist the other villagers through the week of haze induced mating. Being bogged down by wet weather and running from Mauri to Mauri had always been exhausting, but still. You knew how to do it, we’re accustomed to what was expected of you when a healer was needed.

What would be expected of you as a mate?

The thought excites you and terrifies you all the same.

You want to be with Neteyam. There is no question about the fact. You crave him in a way that you didn't know was possible. Carnal and inescapable. Being with him is as easy as breathing,

It’s everything else that’s harder.

You’re an adult now, have been for years, yet you still live in your family home. It’s not that you had been forced to stay. Ao’nung had taken his leave after his rite; his hut more of a bachelor pad than anything. He still came to his parents home daily to raid their food stores and have his mother touch up his braids- but still. He’d jumped fearlessly into independence and had been living on his own for over a year.

All you’d ever known lived inside these walls.

Your Uncle Tonowari and Aunt Ronal had taken you in at such a young age that you don’t really remember anything else. You’d slept in the same bed since you were a childling, in your secluded little corner. Decorated with all of your trinkets and shrouded in familiarity, you’d loved your space.

It was safety incarnate.

And you leaving was difficult, for everyone.

It would’ve happened one day, a necessary step towards adulthood that all had to take and yet as you took your turn you couldn't help but be a bit devastated. It felt like a shock to your system, gathering everything you’d accumulated and preparing to leave.

After Fertility Season, you wouldn't return. You’d never sleep under this roof again.

You and Neteyam would start to build your life together- and you’d do so in your own home.

It wasn't even as though you were going far, the vacated mauri that Tonowari had granted you permission to claim was mere meters away, still in the heart of the village. The move wasn't a major one, and would take no time at all. Nothing like the way the Sully’s had been forced to uproot and leave everything they’d ever known.

There was no reason for you to act like a baby about it. So don't allow yourself to.

Even with all of the swirling questions plaguing you, you put on a brave face. Kept it all smiles and reassuring nods. This was all going to be just fine.

Right?

Right.

It’s too busy a time of year for your Aunt and Uncle to be housebound. They tend to the people, attention occupied by assuring the good of the clan. Of course they had given you all of their love before leaving to fulfill their many duties as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik-

Ronal had been stony about your coming of age. Very helpful, sending you back and forth with arms full of supplies and many words of advice. Tonowari on the other hand had played at being unaffected- charitable as ever. Smiling the whole way, reminding you of how proud of you he is at every turn. You pretended not to see the mist in his eyes that he furiously wiped away when he thought you weren't looking.

Tsireya has tears, silent but steady, rolling down her face the entire time you prepare to leave.

She helps you pack and reassures you that she’s fine. She’s so happy for you, yet still. She sniffles paws at her nose every few moments, no matter how many reassuring words you give her.

“You’ll be fine” you hum, gathering the last of your herbs, the tiny vials clinking together as you toss them in with the rest of your things . “Aren't you excited that you get the bigger bed space now?”

She just shoots you a wet smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

Your baby.

Your sweetest girl.

It wouldn't be long before she was leaving the nest herself, but you don't remind her of that fact, you just embrace her tight instead.

Finally, with the large woven basket in your arms, full to the brim, you step out into the rain.

It's chillier then it usually gets on the island. The humidity and wind creating a cold that clings to your bones. You bound quickly down the buoyant netting. Everyone seems to be out, even with the weather- getting their affairs in order. It was going to be a long week- and the village was a buzz. Everyone flitting around, focused in on making sure their loved ones would be well taken care of.

It’s a bit embarrassing, the attention that you receive.

Well meaning clans members give you their blessings in spades. Tight hugs and words of well wishes. Whispered advice and wrapped parcels of food.

A group of Elders who you have known since birth stop you in your tracks. Their hands on your back, your chest, your arms, as they chant over you.

They ask the Great Mother to look over you during this season, to bless you with strong babies and healthy pregnancies. Their knowing smiles are both encouraging and mortifying.

“Your man sure is handsome” Ch’kal, a wrinkled woman with striking silver streaked into her long dark hair, starts “But do they not feed them in the forest? He’s so skinny, isn't he? I’ll give you our families recipe for Lomia-lok(cabbage like rice roll) Put some meat on his bones”

You want to argue that Neteyam’s not skinny, he’s lean. All muscle and sinew, he was stronger than he looked.

Instead you respond cordially “I will gladly take it, thank you for the offering”

“No worry, the skinny ones always have the biggest surprises under their twengs. My muntxa was a scrawny thing and look at how many little ones he gave me” She continues, a mischievous spark twinkling in her eye. Known for her unbridled, silver tongue. “You know what they say, you can’t judge the fruit by the tree”

You can feel the blush rise on your cheeks as images from the beach flash before your eyes.

She had no idea just how…well endowed your future mate truly is. His cock had felt so good in your hand, better than anything you had ever encountered. Huge and hard and all yours.

You keep that fact a secret, hold it tight to your chest as you break away from the crowds.

Lots of the homes of young couples have already been barred off. Their drapes pulled shut and wicker entry blinds secured tightly closed. A thin attempt of privacy. It does little to shelter the sounds of coupling coming from inside. Breathy moans and grunts could be heard, nearly drowned out by the whipping wind.

It was just the beginning. Fertility Season was known to be loud, your people not shy at all when it came to pleasure.

Eager to get out of the rain that only seems to get heavier as the hours pass, you duck down the netted pathway.

Your clan is lucky for the reefs, their protective cushion keeps the village from ever feeling the full fury of the storms.

Even still, by the time you’re at the mouth of your new home, you’re drenched. Your hair clinging to your back uncomfortably as you get to quick work.

The graciously given pod is something of a fixer upper.

Had been used for storage but cleared promptly when you and Neteyam formally announced your courtship. He wouldn't have to build a Mauri from nothing, but even then. It would be a while before the space felt your own. The bare walls unnerve you a bit.

A sturdy roof is all that's truly needed and it had been patched up just fine. The fire that Neteyam had started earlier crackles warmly, a pleasant welcoming as you dry yourself off.

The firepit in the center has been cleared of soot and debris and topped by sturdy rods that hold a ready to use skillet and hand-me-down stew pots. There’s baskets of fresh fruit and dried meat placed in rows near the jugs of fresh water, you suspect that neat work had been Neteyam’s mothers doing. Neytiri had been a great help in the relocation process. You still felt a bit awkward in her strong, silent presence but we’re no less grateful for the offered assistance.

A bed mat, thick and large enough for two sits in the back corner. Already piled with an accumulation of Metkayinan and Omaticayan woven bedding. You admire the foreign patterns that make up Neteyams quilts. They look cozy, so much thicker than your own thinner blankets.

You sink down, resting on your shins as you begin to arrange them. The need to nest is instinctual, deep rooted and you move on auto pilot as you straighten out the bedding. It had to be perfect, the home. Your bed. And it would be, had the potential to be.

Yes, it’s a little bit of a mess.

The collection of you and Neteyam’s things strewn out across most of the visible floorspace, not yet put carefully away and sorted. It’s also far smaller than what you’d grown up in. Kind of rickety and worn down-

But it’s yours. You would live an entire life here. You get lost in imagining it; raising children, growing old. Spending years cultivating endless memories- maybe you’d build onto the structure? Expand the pod, depending on how many children you have-

“Fucking hell” Neteyam curses in his fathers foreign tongue as he rushes through the entrance, quickly latching the canvas and wicker flap across the doorframe behind him. Securing your home against the stirring elements.

His arms are full and he’s soaked from the storm. Rivulets of rain water race down his sculpted body and you try not to be too obvious as you gawk at him.

He’s just so good looking, it really is unfair.

“It’s really starting to pour out there”

“Yes, I was worried you might of drowned” You grin back at him, loving the

“Ha, ha” Neteyam teases as he goes to drop the baskets full of food down by all of the others “It’s my mom. She wont stop. I keep trying to tell her that we will be fed for weeks but she just won't hear it. ”

“I think it's sweet” you hum as you watch the planes of his back, the muscles bunching as he bends down to arrange the fruit.

He’s so strong, holds it in his back and broad shoulders. You ache to run your fingers along his long spine.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip hard as you continue working at the bedding. Trying to get the blankets to lay just right. You don’t think it will truly be done until you and Neteyam’s scents are saturating every inch of fabric, but still. It’s good right?

All you want to do is drag him down, make him roll around in the bed mat. It’s too firm, not broken in yet. You need him to plow you into it, if only to soften it up a little.

Your thoughts had been horribly vulgar since that night at the beach. Vivid in a way that had you losing yourself to them often.

It had only been two eclipse’s since, but the days had been long and filled with rushed preparations. Neteyam had been preoccupied with making sure the Mauri was livable, that it was comfortable enough to house you, comfortably, for the duration of the coming week. Both of you would be lost to your hormones soon, it was best to get it all done while he still had his wits about him.

The spaces between intimacy make you anxious and antsy. You question yourself, every touch and word. He’d made it more than clear that he wanted to be with you but what exactly did that mean? Could you just touch him, however you wanted, whenever you wanted? You’d never shared that with a man and knew you had a while to go before the awkwardness of it all faded.

Neteyam’s presence breaks you out of your thoughts, a big hand coming to rest on your shoulder. Palm warm as he looms behind you “It looks good, yawne.”

A surge of pride runs through you, makes your fingertips tingle and tail swish slowly “Really? You don’t think it needs more blankets? I could hunt some down-”

His chuckle is low, deep. So gentle as he croutches down until he’s nuzzling your hair, speaking his next words so close to your ear that it flicks with the whisper of contact.

“There’s no need for that, it’s perfect. Such nice little nest for us to spend the season in”

How does he always know just what to say?

You lean into him heavily, your back meeting his chest. Stomach fluttering with excitement at the contact. You’ve wanted to be in his arms since leaving them and are pretty sure that this could become an addiction. Being so close to him was heady, you’re not sure if it’s the electric energy in the air- or if its just HIM.

His hands slide from your shoulder, skimming across your chest. Massaging your flesh with the pads of his fingers. Your heart flutters hummingbird fast as he thumbs at your collarbone and a small gasp leaves you as his fingers start to slip down into your skimpy top.

It’s been so hard, keeping your mind from sinking under the haze of Fertility Season. So many of your peers are gone to it. Completely to their hormones, tucked away together as the storms batter the shore.

His touches leave fire in their wake, warm you up from the inside out and melt what little control you have left. You’d been good, hadn’t you? Gotten everything in order, all of your responsibilities were squared away. You could just…have this. Have him, and your small home and the rising heat between you.

“Need you” you whisper as he begins to palm at your breast, rubbing a callused palm over the hardening bud of your nipple over and over again.

“Need me how?” Neteyam presses, not stoping his insistent groping “‘What do you need, yawntutsyip(darling)? My mouth, my hands? My cock?”

You choke on your own tongue, startled by both Neteyam’s raunchy words and the fact that he pinches your sensitive nipple hard as he speaks them.

In all reality, you want it all. Want to ride his fingers again, and feel his mouth all over you. You’d dreamt, so vividly, about his head between your thighs-

All of those pale in comparison to what you truly crave.

‘It’s the skinny ones that always have the biggest secrets under their twengs’

You maneuver in his hold, twisting until you come face to face with exactly what you desire.

With him standing, straightening out to his full height, and you still resting on your knees, your eye level with the prize. Saliva pools in your mouth as you lean in, sucking in deep lungfuls of his scent. Its so strong at his groin that even concealed by his tweng, it still fills your nostrils in fragrant plumes.

So virile and potent that your womb throbs sparply, empty and wanting.

You nuzzle between his legs, nosing eagerly at his covered bulge. When you begin wetting the cloth of with your open mouth kisses and wandering tongue, Neteyam winds his hands in your hair and tugs your gaze up to his-

He’s more than happy to let you explore and get your fill but the lack of skin to skin contact is driving him crazy. His amber eyes are low, his belly concaving with his quickening breath.

“Baby, you’re killing me” he whispers whinely and a feline like grin stretches across your face.

“We can't have my mighty warrior dying on me, now” you croon at him, your small hands running up his strong legs. His muscles bunch under your touch, his thighs firm up, tightening in anticipation “I just wanna...Can’t I have a little taste?”

When you cup where he’s chubbing up, he hisses warningly between his clenched teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair-a thinly veiled warning. You just continue to give him that innocent little look.

Neteyam reaches for the leather bound knots of his covering, tugging on them harshly to free himself from the increasingly tight constraints, its hard to wiggle out of it. Especially when you keep reaching for his swelling balls with deft fingers, your hand tucked in between his thighs-

“Y/N!”

You giggle at his tone, at the shrill warning as the tips of your nails scritch his delicate taint.

Neteyam is huge. His cock is as dark as the rest of his svelte body, but blooms rosy purple at the crown of his swollen head. Longer than it is thick, a bead of thin opaline precum oozes from his slit.

You hum in the back of your throat, swallowing thickly around the saliva that pools your mouth. You can smell his sex, smell his essence rolling off of him and it’s dizzying.

You’re absolutely overwhelmed by it. It triggers something deep and primal. You want to roll around in this smell, want him to cover your body in it.

“You smell really good” you whimper, face coming to rest in the crease of his groin “Eywa, Neteyam- I-I want-fuck“

He hums, the hand still in your hair turns comforting. Pats at your head like your a child. “You wanted to taste, didn’t you?”

“Mmhm” you squeak, inhaling deep lungful's of his rich aroma.

“Then taste, sevin(pretty girl). Here” he pulls you from his center, hold your head, guiding it until your lips hover his top “stick your tongue out-“

The grunt that leaves him sounds like it was punched right from his stomach.

You don’t stick your tongue out-it’s more you take as much of him as you can into your eager mouth. You want his taste down your throat, want to guzzle it straight from the source.

The sensations are exciting and new. Having something so big in your mouth is admittedly a bit awkward, but the flavor that your rewarded with more than up for it. His skin is musky and warm-cut only by the sharp tang of the precum pouring out of him.

“Slow down, damn it- don’t-” Neteyam calves burn, struggling to stay upright as you attack him. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You’re so hungry for it, gagging yourself harshly on his member. The sounds that erupt from your chest are animalistic, needy and a bit pathetic. You whine for him, knowing somewhere deep that you need his come inside of you.

He’s trying to keep his wits about him, really he is. Trying to guide you through it

“Breathe through your nose, aht. Just like that”

“Not so much teeth, a little gentlier”

“Deep-too deep! Not so deep!”

Between the sounds of your gagging and the little bobs of your head, Neteyam’s losing it. His hips chasing the sweet suction of your hollowed lips, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The rhythm is sloppy and it only takes one odd, pointed thrust to make you choke raggedly..

You cough, pulling off him.

Your sucking had been messy and clumsy, you smear spit all over his groin. Your chin shiny slick when you pull away for a much needed breath.

Neteyam is panting harsley, his face screwed tight in concentration.

“Am I doing okay?”

You’ve never done this part, and that idea that you might be doing it wrong gnaws at you. It’s a familiar uncertainty, one that you’d been warring with since you’d met the darker Na’vi. Neteyam was so sure- so good at all things, and while his competency was part of his appeal, it made you worried that he might realize just how fucking unexperienced you are.

His eyes open, fingers unclenching from the fist in your hair and coming to cup your jaw. You kiss his thumb when it runs across your lips, chase it with the tip of your tongue.

“You’re being such a good girl for me, Y/N. You almost made me come, I was barely able to catch myself”

The sensations stirring in your belly makes you groan, hug his legs tighter, your head pressed against his lower belly. The praise makes you feel lightheaded. Very much like you aren't really in this moment-

He clocks the slight change, on the way you’re clinging to him. He suddenly doesn't want the power dynamic, he doesn't want to leer over you any longer. Not with the sweet little nest you’d made right there just waiting to be used

“Is that what you wanted?” Neteyam wonders as he herds you, gentle but sure, back into the tangle of blankets. You go willingly, back resting against the padding, “To make me come?”

He likes this so much better. You all burrowed into the covers. He wants to pur at the sight of you, wants to dig you deeper into the nest. Cover your body with his own and never let you out.

“Mhmm” you stare up at him with big eyes. “O-of course I did. I want to know that I can bring you pleasure”

At his strong body as he crouches, shuffling forward on his knees. He’s as naked as the day Eywa brought him into this world. He’s something out of an ancient song, so bewitchingly beautiful. All of those sharp, jagged angles-

And yet he smiles at you so tenderly.

“You’re so sweet” Neteyam’s voice is a honeyed croon “Always trying to make me feel good. But I need you to feel good too- I need you to be comfortable with me”

“I am comfortable with you-”

“Are you?” Neteyam inquires, his hands skimming up your legs that are spread round his waist. Starting near your ankles, his palms skim up the firm lines of your calves, trace your knees. So patient in his exploration of your turquoise skin.

You’re panting shallowly at his touch on your thighs.

His bony fingers play with the plush flesh, digging into where your blubber meets hip. Squeezing at curiously. You feel exposed, giddy and scared at letting him touch you.

It’s not like that night at the beach. Not rushed in the shadows.

He takes his time, his golden iris’ searing in the fire light as he appraises you. You’ve never felt…so seen. You’d never had anyone take the time to look at you, like this. Boys in the clan had shot you greedy glances as you matured and came of age and as the niece of the reigning Olo’eyktan, you’d become accustomed to having eyes watching your movements, judging- positively or negatively you never really knew.

It makes you want to run, that look on his face. All intense, focused in only on you. It’s too much, you want to curl into a ball. Away from all of this attention. Want to read his mind- try to understand what he’s seeing. What he wants.

So you can give it to him.

His fingers reach for your embroidered tweng, nimbly working the knots.

“Nete?” you breathe, your voice shaky with nerves.

Still, you raise your hips. Helping him slip the fabric from your body.

The inside of your thighs shine in the flickering glow. The juncture of your body sticky and ready for him. His nostrils flare, his thin tail shoots straight in the air. Stock still.

He’s breathing hard, gulping in lungful's of the air that's swimming with the scent of your pheromones. The scent of your wet cunt.

Emboldened by the sight you spread your legs, knees falling open. Revealing where you're hot and pulsing. The baby blue lips of your pussy are puffy, unfurling into a pretty rosy color as you bare your insides to him. Your hole twitches, pulses with your racing heart rate.

His gaze on the most hidden part of yourself makes you hot. It's secret, just for him. Just for his big honeyed eyes.

You reach down, spreading yourself with your fingers- your hard clit poking out of its little hood in a way that has Neteyam groaning. His shoulders shaking as he turns his head- like he just can't bare the view. You fingering your own cunt, spreading it wide for him would be burned into his corneas for the rest of his days.

Your fingers are soaked, barley dipped into yourself yet covered in your own arousal. You bring them up to Neteyams quivering lips-

He gasps, gaze snapping back to yours as you wipe your shiny slick over his cupids bow.

“Fuuuuuck” he hisses, grabbing your thin wrist bruisingly hard. Holding your feminine hand to his face, helping you to rub your wetness along his mouth.

You’re in love with him.

You have been for months. Your heart had pined for this moment. To share this with him, to be able to scent him. To hold him. To mate him.

You don't have it in you to wait any longer.

“Please” you gasp as his hot tongue delves between your fingers, tracing your knuckles.

“Please what?” he mumbles, his mouth busy collecting any and all of your essence that he could reach.

You’re overwhelmed, shaking. You think you may start crying- your eyes sting harshly. As harsh as the sting of your empty womb. “I-I-I don't know. Please. Just please-”

A flash of lightning strikes across the sky outside, so bright that the pod lights up for a moment with its vicious neon purple glow.

The two of you look at each other in a light that's new, foreign. His long dark braids look something like a halo.

Neteyam can see the tears gathering in your eyes. The desperation in the green orbs.

“Y/N” He breathes, lowering his head to yours. His forehead resting against your own as he clutches your hand from his mouth to his chest so that you can feel the way that it's racing. “oel ngati kameie. I’ve only ever seen you-”

You gasp, lips searching for his.

He repeats it into the pecking kisses. He wants you to know, to understand that this was all he’d ever wanted.

A woman, warm and loving and all his, in his bed.

He’d laid bruised and bloody on the battlefield dreaming of this. Thinking that it was too far out of his reach, that he could never have it. Though the woman in his fantasies face had always been blurry- he knew it had always only been you. Eywa had plucked him from the forest, from everything he knew, and plopped him in the middle of the ocean.

To bring him to you

You reach for your kuru, the thick braid easy to find in your loose hair. You need this, before he slips into your body you need to be connected to his soul. You’re gagging for it, shaking as you offer him everything you have to give.

Neteyam brings his own kuru over his shoulder and your stomach flops dangerously.

There’s a moment of stillness.

The storm rages steadily outside, the platter of rain on the canvas roof consistent. The howling of the wind strong- and yet all you can hear is your own heartbeat. Neteyams breathing. There are no more words to be spoken. No, they’d only get in the way. What the two of you are doing is ancient, older than Pandora itself. Its the base for all life, for all connection.

The tendrils at the end of your kuru glow, a lilac haze as they reach desperately for Neteyams own. Straining, writhing in a way that you’d never experienced.

Only calming as they connect with what they truly want. They bind together seamlessly, and the bond is sealed.

Tsaheylu is made.

The air is forced from your lungs in a breathless whimper at the contact. You can hear Neteyams own sounds too. But no, that's not really it.

You’re not hearing him, you’re feeling him.

His soul, his essence is bright and dancing. He’s stronger then anything you’ve ever felt, instantly seeping bone deep. He feels like the forest at dawn, like the last moment before the evening eclipse over the ocean.

You’d heard stories of the first time mates make Tsaheylu. Of course you had. Some had been dirty and scandalous, leaving you blushing. But most had been whispers of reverence.

There was nothing like it. Being connected to another Na’vi body, mind and soul was an experience that no one could truly put into words.

You get it now.

It's all consuming. Overwhelming. Euphoric in a way that you didn't know could exist.

You and Neteyam blur. You’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

His forehead grits against yours as he pants, lost to the sensation of you. Of him. Of the bond.

His arms twine around your middle, hauling you as close as possible. He wants to crawl into your skin, wants to dig so deep into you that he will never return to the outside world. He’s only yours, from now until the day he returns to the All Mother.

“I’m yours” you reply through the haze. The words spill through the neurological connection. He doesn't need to speak them out loud.

And neither do you. You needn't tell him what you want. He can feel it, can feel the hot pulsing of your desperate cunt. He grabs ahold of his hard cock and leads it to where you need him. He doesn't even need to look, though a part of him wants to watch you take it.

You cry out as you’re breached for the first time. Your virgnally tight body clinging to every inch of him as he sinks slowly into you. The sensations new and dizzying. Everything is too much, and at the same time not enough. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck as you choke on the stretch of it all.

“You have to relax for me, shh, it's okay. Don't tense up or else it will hurt more” He soothes you, because he can feel it all. Tsaheylu a feedback loop. It hurts, there’s no way for him to have completely eliminated the pain. But he works you slowly through it. Let's you take all the time you need as he carves out his place within your body.

His sharp hip bones meet yours and you shudder.

“You okay?” he worries as you shift against the large intrusion. Your hips shifting, testing. You just shake your head and bury it in his neck. Eyes screwed tightly shut as you try to adjust to him.

It takes a long moment for the burn to fade from pain…to something else. Something itchy and nagging.

“Mmm” your hips move in slow, restless, circles. Electric shocks racing up your spine, flowing through your kuru as his heavy length rubs a spot within you that feels so good “Move, ugh, move”

“Slowly” Neteyam starts to adhere to your plea’s. Trying not to give into his need to snap into you.

“Cant-ah. Feels so weird” you grunt, trying to nail that place inside of you again. Your gummy walls pulse around him, your body begging him to help. To make you feel good. “Move, move. Please, I need you to move faster”

“So fucking tight” he gasps as he pulls out, only able to get about halfway free, before your strong hole is sucking him right back in. “Never felt anything so tight”

He feels your flare of jealousy, uncomfortably hot, through the bond.

“Never- you can't be with anyone else again” you warn him through shuttered breath. Your nails digging into the smooth skin on the back of his neck, under his braids.

“My love-” his amused chuckle tickles your ear.

“No. You can never even look at anyone else again. You’re only mine” you seethe, your hips grinding into his dangerously. Encouraging him to take you. To pound into you the way you needed him to. “I’ll kill them”

Neteyam's groan echoes around the space of your newly shared home.

His thrusts grow strong, careless. Pulling out and then sinking back into your squelching heat, all the way to the hilt. Your body's jerk with the rhythm of his fucking. You hold on tightly for the ride, your knees hugging at his ribs as you give him all the room he needs to move inside of you.

His tip bully’s it’s way deep, too deep. You wail as it kisses your cervix. That sharp pain back, combined with the pleasure it was unbearable.

“Ah” you arch into the sensation, confused at the way your body welcomes it even though it stings, and feels scarily new. Neteyam grabs your left leg, raises it high until your calf rests on his shoulder.

Your eyes cross, your mouth falls open in a wordless gasp.

Everytime you try to suck in a breath, he fills you right back up. Hits that secretive, sensitive spot relentlessly. Its maddening, makes you shake all over-

“Neteyam” you warn, reaching for his hand. He just grabs your fingers, pins your arm over your head, hand held captive by his fingers as he starters down at you.

“Yeah? Are you there?” His thrusts turn very pointed, deliberate “Come for me, come all over me”

You’re tightening up quickly, screeching as you clench around his plowing cock. The waves of pleasure are almost too much, feels too good. Your stomach quivers, and it’s like you dove from the highest cliff as you’re struck by your first orgasm.

It’s so good you can taste it-

-You choke on it as Neteyam continues his relentless pace. Not slowing down even a little bit as you struggle. Left hypersensitive, still pulsing around him as your orgasm is drawn out. Never ending. You’re blubbering, trying to ground yourself, holding onto him as he pistons inside of you.

His panting breaths are damp as he hides in the skin of your neck.

Holds his body to yours as he works himself to his release. One of his hands still keeps your arm pinned above your head- the other works his way to your leg that’s loose around his hips. Props it up to join the other, so that both of your legs dangle over his broad shoulders. Bends you into a mating press that has you screaming. Truly unable to take in a breath as he displays all that strength of his- and holds you down. Makes you take what you’d wanted to much.

It doesn't take much at all- when his sharp canines graze your shoulder you’re gone for. You don't think you’d truly come down from the last orgasm when you fall into another. You can't even take in a breath to make sound, you just wheeze as you come.

Neteyam had wanted this to be special. Had wanted to do it right- to mate you the way that your ancestors had intended.

As he bites into your shoulder, his teeth breaking the skin- he seals the bond. Its painful, and the sharp metallic twang of your blood fills his mouth as he fills your pussy with his seed.

His groin presses against yours, holding you still. Keeping the rivers of his release inside of you. You're whimpering and twitching, yet still he pins you.

His warm, slippery tongue laves against the sluggishly bleeding wound.

He hopes that it sticks.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The hours drone by and day turns to night, the dusk not bringing an end to the storms. If anything they get louder. The rain falling heavier, thunder roaring startlingly. You are so beyond fucking glad that you don't have to brave it, that you instead get to laze in bed. Wrapped up in warm, worn blankets.

Your body melts into Neteyam’s as he massages every inch of exposed skin. His strong fingers digging into your tired muscles as you lounge against him, cheek laid comfortably on his chest.

You feel boneless, but also more powerful than you ever have before. You’re a woman mated now. All of those seasons spent alone, all of the whispers. They don't matter now.

You have a mate.

You hug Neteyams waist a little tighter, hiding your smile in his dark skin.

He chuckles, can feel how proud you are of yourself through the bond. He hasn't bothered to disconnect your kuru’s after he’d slipped out of you, not ready to release the Tsaheylu. You we’re more then happy to be connected for him for as long as he liked.

You think you might enjoy this part as much as the sex. The afterwards is soft, he attendants to you diligently. You can feel his affection pour off of him in waves. It's thrilling, all of it. This whole day had been filled with fresh experiences. You feel brand new, a different side of yourself coming to the surface.

You’d never been anyone’s lover before.

It makes you all giddy and excited, being his. Having him be yours.

You tell him things you’d never told another soul, not even Tsireya. All your secrets come flowing out of you like a babbling brooke. You want him to know all of you, even the embarrassing scary parts.

“I can see it” He chuckles heartily at the story from your childhood. The one about a bet gone wrong, one where Roxto had been drug down the depths by an angry mother Kapapal(octopus). You’d jumped in after him even though you we’re smaller then a shell shocked Ao’nung, it had all ended in a cloud of black ink that had stained your skin for weeks “You’re my brave little warrior, aren't you?”

“You are the brave one between the two of us. It’s not every tsamsiyu (warrior) that can pass two Iknimaya”

Neteyam shrugs, his hands working on a knot between your shoulder blades “Things like that have never been hard for me. It's simple when there's a task that I can see the end of. It’s like- that is the way my mind works. Anything can be done if you keep your head down and figure out a way whether through. Lo’ak calls me a bootlicker for it. Maybe he’s right, I do not know”

Your fingers dance along a raised, jagged scar. It's on his lower stomach, stretched out across his right hip. It had to have hurt, even now you can feel how deep the scar tissue runs. His body is littered with them. Little tokens from the war. It hurts you that his learned coping mechanism is essentially just sticking it out. Bracing himself against the pain and swallowing it down.

He’d never have to do that again. Not with you.

You cup his jaw “Your brothers not the brightest ilu in the pod, I wouldn't pay any mind to his opinions. It’s why I’m glad that him and Ao’nung are friends now- their voices cancel eachother out”

Neteyams laughter is ringing and contagious.

He’s beautiful when he’s given the opportunity to be vulnerable. When he’s not weighed down with the weight of all of his responsibilities. His eyes glitter when he talks about the forest, about his grandmother and the Omiticaya people. About the vast mountain ranges and dense, endless greenery.

Even when he speaks of the war and training, its not with the sadness that you know you’d be overcome with if you ever had to face such adversities. He was good at following orders and giving them, had an entire air fleet that was at his control.

He mentions a name a few times. A female name. You can help but notice it.

And its stupid. Really it is, but you recall how he'd said you were the tightest he’d ever been with. How many women had be been with, back home? You knew that he wasn't a virgin. He’d never put up that front with you but still-

You busy yourself with the still raw tattoo that sprawls over his right arm. Across his shoulder and down his bicep. It’s still hot and healing. Easy for you to focus on, your withdrawing nature flaring up protectively. You’d rather focus on tending to his wounds then being stupidly upset about his past romps.

You retreat from his arms with a small smile, gently breaking Tsaheylu-

“Hey!” Neteyam protests, reaching to pull you back, but you just giggle at his antics. Standing up and scurrying to the other side of the hut.

Your belongings were scattered all over the place- but still. You dig for the little jar. Giving a triumphant little “aha” when you find it.

He pouts as you plop back down next to him, demanding you give you his arm.

“It’ll get infected if you don't take care of it” you warn as you spread the viscous liquid over the slightly raised ink. Rubbing it into his skin, blowing on it when he hisses about the sting. Kelp Jelly tended to do that. Still, he leans into your touch.

“Let me put some on your shoulder” he requests when you’re finished nodding at the scabbing bite on the juncture where your shoulder met your neck. You allow him to dip his long fingers into the jar, to spread it over your own wound.

“Did I upset you?”

“No”

“Liar” he sighs, working the jelly in a thick layer “I felt it through Tsaheylu. Was it the war? I don't have to talk about that if you don't want me to”

“Of course it wasnt that…” your lips purse as you try to pick your words in a way that will least embarrass you. Try and fail. “Who’s Zeytawni?”

Neteyam gives you a long blank look before a smile cracks across his handsome face. His braids sway as he shakes his head, his thumb brushes soothingly at the skin around the bite.

“You are the most jealous woman I’ve ever met” He’s extremely amused, it makes your cheeks burn and a haughty protest raise in your throat.

“I am not! And if I was-am I not rightfully jealous? The two of you we’re obviously close” you splutter because it's not fair! That it’s all a joke to him. You’re always so flustered and he’s always so collected “I know that you have had…women. I get to be curious about that. I’ve never had partners the way that you have. I don't have anything to compare it to-”

“Stop” Neteyam’s voice is sage but demanding. He puts the jar of healing salve down beside him- before his fingers spread across your bare breast bone. Pressing his palm firmly against your heart.

“There’s nothing to compare. Nothing at all. Please do not ever break the bond again before you ask me about other women. You could’ve have felt for yourself what I feel about all of this.”

Your mouth quirks as you roll his words over in your head. You know he’s right- that you had a one way ticket into his head just moments ago. But maybe you’d been scared about what you’d find. Still naively clinging on to your insecurity.

“I'm just not very experienced. You know that. I’d barely done anything with anyone before you” You whisper, feeling smaller than you we’re.

“That’s…not a bad thing. Not for me. I don't like the idea of anyone else touching you” Neteyam reassures you, but his jaw smarts. Like even thinking about this makes him a little sick.

You get a little thrill out of it “Why? Are you…jealous?”

He snorts. His amber eyes boring into yours for a moment before he speaks “You know exactly how I feel about the attention you get from the men in the village”

You giggle, reaching out to press a peck of a kiss to his cheek “No one ever sparked my interest.”

“Really?” He argues, scoffing a bit as he pickles on a loose thread of the bed mat “None of them seemed to get that hint, huh? They all thought they had a chance.”

You shimmy as close to him as you can get, molding yourself into his side. His arm raises so that you can press right under his armpit, skin to skin. Your hardening nipples graze the side of his ribcage.

You love this. It may not be exactly healthy but you do.

You love feeling like you're not the only one losing your damn mind over the idea of ever having to share what the two of you had.

You smother the side of his face in kisses, your lips pecking all over his cheeks. His nose. The corner of his lips- which purse as he gives a halfhearted return.

“You’re the only one who ever had a chance” you promise as you begin to drag wet open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He’d shed his many chokers, and his bare throat is just so pretty.

“Ahuh” he grumbles, but his head lulls, giving you more room “Even today, I watched so many head’s turn to watch you. As you readied to move into my hut, to live with me. It’s maddening”

You heat up at his words. You feel your core begin to pulse again. You want him like this all of the time, and you know that the future is going to be littered with attempts at getting your man this riled up as much as possible.

“Mark me up some more?” you suggest, casually as ever. Grinning when your mate groans a little at the idea “Cover me in your cum. Make me smell so much like you that no one will ever question who I belong to.”

You yelp, shocked, when his hand claps loudly against your ass.

Swatting it once in warning, before his big paw begins to grope at the hot flesh. For a moment you’re so surprised, so scandalized, that you freeze.

That’s just for a moment though. You’re quickly resuming your assault on his neck, your tail wagging excitedly behind you.

“You like this?” He phrases it as a question, even though the bastard already knows. As though he can't tell, can't feel how wet you are for him when his fingers slip between your cheeks and circle your hole. Your pussy's already futtering for him.

“Mhmm” you whine as he presses into you, fingers disappearing knuckle deep. Not slow, no. He starts to fuck you with them almost automatically “Of course I like that you want me”

He pounds you with his hand and you gasp into his ear, jutting out your sweet behind. Wanting him harder, wanting all three of his long digits pressed as far into as they can go. It feels almost like a punishment…

You think you might like that, too.

“Silly girl” He chastises as he plays your body like a flute “I’ll always want you”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The week passes by, although you truly wish it wouldn't- and slowly the rains start to clear. The storms fading into something docile, rainbows glittering as they catch on the many little windchimes you’d hung at the entrance of your home.

You and Neteyam don't leave the Mauri once. Completely enthralled with one and other. Intertwined too deeply to move far from the bed mat. He keeps you fed, cleaned and hydrated. Tends to any and all of your needs. Makes sure your greedy body is satiated-

“Ma Nete” you whine from your place among the blankets. The pout on your face is endearing, dramatic as anything though. "Don't go"

The two of you hadn't broken Tsaheylu in days. You could survive the separated bond for ten minutes.

“I have to go get more fresh water. We ran out last night- don’t look at me like that! I’ll be right back!” He’s refastening the leather straps of his tweng. He just has to go as far as the center of the village, to the well.

You’re not having it. You have no idea how he had wrestled his way out of your arms, but this wouldn't do. There we’re still women in the throws of Fertility Season. You could hear the caterwauling. He couldn't just go out there with all of his muscles-

“But paskalin(honey). We can go get water later. Together” you protest and he shakes his head, grabbing the water pail next to the fire pit.

“Or I can go get it now and get it over with” he sniggers, making a move for the doorway. He’s reaching for the flap, reading himself to leave.

When your pitiful moan rings through the air.

He should be strong, should be a dutiful mate. Needs to clear his head enough that he can take care of you-

Instead he turns back.

You’re a dirty cheat, he’s learned that fact during the last week. A sore loser. A little brat who couldn't take no for an answer. He’d spend the rest of his days spoiling you rotten and he blames Tonowari for it. He wonders if the older man had ever given you healthy boundaries;

You’d do just about anything to get your way. Resort to nasty tricks that you know he couldn't resist-

This being one of said tricks.

You’re on your hands and knees, your spine a perfect arch as you raise your ass into the air, and keep your head and shoulders pressed into the bedding. Your thighs parted wide as you reach back, tugging on your cheeks.

Presenting beautifully for him. The perfect picture of submission.

Your still wet holes wink at him hypnotically. Luring him back like a fish on a hook.

His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, hard. Feet rooted in place as he battles with himself.

“Y/N…” He warns, even though he knows it’s futile. He can't resist you like this.

Can't resist you at all.

“Come taste” you purr, wiggling your hips as your delicate fingers trace the furl of your sphincter. “Tastes so good, huh, paskalin? It's cause I'm full of your cum. We taste so nice combined”

Neteyam groans, deep and gutted, and the pail clatters to the floor.

He dives back in, face first.

Not at all ashamed over the fact that his previously unswayable sense of duty deems to dissipate when it comes to you and your demands.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The village is coming back to life. Couples rejoining the world after their week spent intimately tucked away. Slowly but surely Awa’atlu will return back to it’s everyday routine.

Jake maneuvers the walkways, smiling at people he passes. It had been much like this, in the forest. Fertility Season had been something he’d definitely had to get used to, a culture shock to the extreme, but once he realized how important it was to the Na’vi he’d got with the program pretty damn fast.

It's a sacred ritual, Neytiri had explained to him the first time he’d participated in the ritual. He had spent the week trying to keep up with his mate, completely surprised by the tantric, communal, act of sex.

It’s vital for their population, Norm and Max elucidated. They needed to have these seasons so that their tribes can stay afloat. If they don't, there weren't be enough babies born.

Whatever the true cause, it was an experience for sure. Back home in the forest as the Omiticayan Olo’eyktan, he’d been much more hands on. Running around like a chicken with his head cut off for weeks before the event. Organizing the hunt, making sure the coupling Na’vi were taken care of. Keeping the entire clan afloat.

It had been different this year, as most things we’re since the big move to the coast.

This year he was just another Metkayina clans member. He and his mate still had children under their care and didn't feel the lure of the heat as intensely. He wondered if after Tuk came of age, would Neytiri want to go back to being active participants?-

They Sully’s had been of service where they could, picking up any slack. Helping with odd jobs. Kiri had been a great help to Ronal, her quick healing hands had come in handy to the heavily pregnant Tsahik. Tuk beaded bracelets and delivered them, along with little prayers, to everyone's doorsteps. Neytiri had become quite the fisherman in her time on the Island and made sure to double up on her hunts, less anyone need a meal. Even Lo’ak had pitched in, an aid when needed. The kid bitched about it the whole time, but Jake had reminded him that it would be him in the mating couples’ place soon. Lo’ak had rolled his eyes and shrugged his dad off. Jake didn't miss the way his youngest son shot a very busy Tsireya a lingering look.

There was one very big presence missing though.

His eldest son had always been his right hand man, and especially during busy times of the year such as this, Neteyam was the always biggest help. Running around almost as much as Jake, taking on any and all responsibility. Completing even the most minute of errands.

Another change this year. His eldest had finally chosen a mate. And had been locked away in his own Mauri for the past week. Participating in Fertility Season for his first time.

It's why Jake was sent on this little task. Neytiri had filled a large woven basket with more food. Pitchers of well water, replacements of medicinal herbs.

“Isn't this a little much? We just got them all stocked up-”

Jake hadn't even bothered to finish his sentence, cut off by his wife’s withering glare. He’d just taken the basket and promised to deliver it safely.

He adores that she’s such a good mother to their children, he’d lacked that back on Earth. Him and Tommy had all but raised themselves. But did she have to be such a…hover mom? Neteyam had made it clear that he wanted some space to mate with Y/N. Private from his bustling family.

Jake couldn't deny that he’d missed his boy. Was a bit worried about him. Neteyam been so against mating back in the forest, rejected any and all proposals. Fertility Season could be…alot, to say the least. A marathon that even the most experienced had trouble running. Jake wasn't ashamed to say that he’d fainted his first time. Neytiri had almost killed him.

He’ll just check in quickly. Drop off the goods. Make sure no one is unconscious. It’ll be fine, most everyone has come out from the haze of the Season anyway. The two of you we’re probably just recovering from the week. Cleaning up-

As he reaches the Mauri, he realizes how wrong he was.

Your moans can be heard through the walls. Syrupy and raspy, you sound worn out. Yet nowhere near stopping.

“Neteyam- ugh-right there. Right there”

Jakes ears flatten against his head and his eyes go comically wide.

“Take it, Y/N. Fuck-”

Jake abandons the basket by the door and hightails it the fuck out of there before he hears anymore. Na’vi are different about sexuality. Far more open. There’s no stigma or shame, just love and acceptance. He’d grown to appreciate it during his years on Pandora.

That being said, Jake had no desire to hear his eldest son fucking his mate. Grown man or not. Call it the tawtute in him.

He’s still a little mortified, even when he makes it back to his own Mauri. Neytiri is sat by the firepit, slow roasting a recent catch. His other kids are nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” she questions as he plops down. Her husband looks a bit shell shocked.

Jake takes a beat, before turning to her. A peculiar look on his face “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be grandparents soon. Like, very soon. Like as soon as possible”

Ah. Her husband and his earthly modesty.

She can't help but laugh at it. After all these years, he still was so easy to fluster. Her sister and Tsu’tey had spent their first Fertility Season under the same roof as the rest of the family. It wasn't odd, or frowned upon.

A part of her wishes Neteyam had done the same so that she could take better care of him and Y/N.

“If the Great Mother wills it, yes” She pats his five fingered hand encouragingly.

“There is no way that girl isn't pregnant right now. Don't you think I’m too young to be a grandpa?”

“No. You are very old now, my love. Look at all of that gray in your hair” Neytiri jests, pointing out the silvery webbing that had started to sprout from Jakes dreads.

“Skxawng!” He swats at her and the two of them break into giggles as he takes out his knife and starts to cut the vegetables, helps her prepare dinner.

After all of the years, their rapport is easy. They move in harmony. She is very excited that her eldest son has finally found someone to build with. He had been so picky, she was worried he might end up an eternal bachelor, forever fated to take care of his siblings.

Neteyam deserved so much more than that.

“I miss having a prrnen(baby) around. Tuk has grown so fast. My time to birth children has come and gone, I am ready for grandchildren. Though I wish they could be raised in the forest” Neytiri shoots her husband a look “They will need us to guide them through it. To protect them. Family is our fortress, that is what you say. Our family is growing, Ma Jake”

Neytiri had been younger than her son is now when she birthed him.

She had no doubts that he was capable of raising a family. He’d helped them raise theirs. Always more of a parental figure than a sibling. She’s factual as she reminds her husband. He’ll be a fun grandpa, he decides. Paw Paw.

He gets a blank confused stare in response. Tuk comes running in, talking a mile a minute, before Neytiri can question Jake about what a “pah-pah” is.

Neytiri prays to the great mother before she goes to sleep that night. For healthy pregnancies and easy deliveries. For her eldest son and his mate’s happiness.

That Fertility Season had been good to them.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Welp, welp, welppppp. I finally finished it. I want you guys to know how hard it was to get this finished. The amount of WIPS that sit unfinished in my drafts is actually sad.

But this story feels special. The response I have gotten to it has made me happier than I can express.

I'm so grateful to be a part of this fandom. Really. Pandora is such a fin world to escape into and play in and the fact that you guys enjoy reading what I consider self therapy is fucking amazing.

Next chapter will be full of pregnancy and pregnancy talk!!! If that’s triggering at all please just be aware that it’s coming and you can skip it if you’d like.

Also thinking about who’s POV we want to see next. Lo’ak’s maybe?

Again I want to remind you that I write what I want to read. I know that Na’vi don’t really have beds or blankets buttttt- I want them to.

Is there rice on Pandora? I’m not sure. My readers gonna eat some rice though.

Was it necessary for Neteyam to bite the shit out of her to seal the deal? Yup. Cause I wanted him to.

Part Four should be out in the next couple weeks. Thanks for being patient with me!

The taglist for this story is closed buttttt I am really good at linking my posts so just keep an eye on my page/Masterlist for updates!

Til next time babies.

Leave me all the good comments- you may get a teaser faster if you do lol

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x reader #aged up neteyam #neteyam x metkayina!reader #mating

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kewpikayo · 2 months ago

Text

"Partners...?" Human Alastor x Reader

Chapter 3: WC: 4,488

I dedicate this third and final instalment to the astounding @jurijyuu, the extraordinary @redvexillum and the spectacular @melodyonthewireless. Thank you all so much!!!!

Warnings & tags: Violence, bloodshed, environmental destruction, Survivor's guilt, Minor character death(s). Alastor is still a little shit.

Chapter 1: Team Player

Chapter 2: Left Hanging

You are at Chapter 3: Burning Alive

Inhaling deeply, your senses awoke to the sharpness that often comes with smoke, your lungs burning with the ache of a thousand suns. Your skin felt hot underneath your jean jacket, singed and crisp as the denim clung to you. You felt as if you were being cooked. Everything ached and burned…

…Everything was burning…

…Everything was on fire.

Your eyes flash open, surveying your limited horizontal surroundings to finally come to the conclusion your nose had already gained the answers to. Your cheek was clinging to the damp earth, your hair no doubt doused in its essence as you attempted to move the hand seated next to your face.

Why was everything burning? Why were you lying down? When did you pass out? You didn’t remember falling asleep.

As the fogginess in your brain subsided, it leaked through your ears and into the air around you. Smoke mixed with your tangible thoughts until it produced an heir of smog floating just barely over the nearby cattails. The mist was faint as your form clung low to the ground where oxygen was ample. You were safe from the promised flame.

For now…

Ignoring the terrible ache that afflicted the inside of your lungs and nearly everywhere else on your person, you urged yourself to your knees. You offered yourself copious pauses until the majority of your weight rested upon your shins, sinking you deeper into the sticky mud as you tried to ascertain what happened.

As if an immediate clue to what had transpired, your eyes caressed the blurry horizon amidst the crackle of far off flame. The landscape offered nothing but freedom and an over abundance of naked trees amidst the dank marsh. The rare form of sunlight licked through the spaces in between their branches as smog continued to offer you shelter.

You had…Escaped?

Relief flooded into your system as an audible laugh of disbelief smuggled its way out of your mouth, rapidly turning into a strangled scream that lodged itself in your throat as your face turned to the side to observe your silent audience.

Fingertips clawed at the tender skin of your cheeks, the feel of gravel and muck abrasive on your flesh and underneath your touch as your voice fought in your mouth. Your brain was unsure of whether to release the tension in your voicebox or swallow the urge completely. Your eyes bore into the ones belonging to a deceased compatriot. It was the most macabre staring contest you had ever held witness to or participated in to date.

Unfamiliar spheres devoid of life bore into your soul as your irises timidly traced along the outline of the corpse of another survivor, ending their travels at the male's neck. A thin, clean cut awaited your sights; continuously oozing the deepest burgundy into an ocean beneath him. The kill was fresh.

What happened? Usually the Entity retrieved what souls she captured from the hooks, collecting the entirety of her victim’s essance and leaving nothing behind. Surely it wasn't her doing.

With a deathly chill creeping up your spine, your mind ascertained that only one other individual could’ve caused what afflicted your eyes.

As if an immediate confirmation to your discoveries, the subtleness of serrated laughter cut through the air. The clipped sound came from a familiar voice, cold but pleased in its utterance.

It was getting closer.

You didn’t want to turn around.

The hands still drawn to your cheeks curled over your flesh, dirty nails digging into delicate skin as your breath ceased in shock. You closed your eyes tightly. Memories from what happened only hours prior flooded into your mind’s eye in brief flashes. They were gruesome details you would’ve happily lived without.

The generator’s were finished, the exit gates opened. Another survivor made an appearance only to be brought to his knees by your partner; hamstrings slashed to oblivion by the knife Alastor harbored.

A bloody race to the death was requested of you to satiate the obvious boredom drenching into your partner’s visage. It was a race you had won, and you had to look away as the other life fighting against fate’s clock was forfeit. The blade in Alastor’s hands brought about a swift end. You hoped it had been painless; but by the sounds and gurgles the victim made you sincerely doubted it.

Then flame. Nothing but flame dousing every inch of the land in its torrential wake. It continued in its encroachment in the weeds and over the boglike water; smoke pairing with its vicious heat to the point it made the sweat on your brow more prominent. Your vision grew even more blurry. The smell was putrid, and severely unharmonious to your senses.

Finished with the visuals your mind relentlessly supplied, you opened your eyes. Finally turning your head to greet the crunch of grass under boots and the laughter that had all but gotten louder, your body froze once again. Horror gripped you at the grotesque sight.

Human flesh burned away, allowing Dark curls to transform into only the brightest of reds as animalistic ears sprouted from his crown, the edges of which tinted the deepest shade of old blood. The man’s eyes were lidded, beholding you calmly with all the boldness in the world. Your partner’s smile was sharp, golden and grand across the expanse of his face. As he continued to grow near, he grinned at you with an uncanniness that made your blood run cold.

Alastor's newly acquired overcoat was ripped as it flapped in the wind, dancing with the soot and debris the warm wind carried overhead. A few ashes fell upon his shoulders, but with effortless poise the demon wiped his clothing to perfection; continuing to stalk over to you, his footwork calculated and quiet. The only sound escaping him was the slight buzz of static.

You couldn’t stop staring.

“Well, I suppose that’s a bargain completed and a job well done. Wouldn’t you agree, doll?”

Your partner was…A red devil? Your thoughts buffered as Alastor clapped dust from his palms and continued drawing close as he knelt down to collect his blade from the ground. He certainly wasn’t human, that was for sure. Somehow he had even gotten taller, his plush ears reaching heaven as antlers akin to the sharpest thistles and thorns crowned his head.

Wiping his blade clean on his trousers, the knife glinted in the light of dawn as he looked from his task to you to regard you calmly.

He. Wasn’t. Human.

It all made sense now. His prowess and knack for killing without attaining injury, even his speed. He was seemingly unmatched. It was all coming full circle.

With the last remnants of humanity that still clung to Alastor being licked away by flame, the blood rushed in your ears as you tried to teach your lungs to breathe again. To no avail. You were petrified. The only reality available to you was the visage of a red devil with a golden grin and a compelling, bloody stare.

Your dry tongue could only produce audio for one feeble thought.

“...Why…?”

Alastor didn’t seem bothered by your pondering as he made quick work of placing his knife back into its sheath. He didn’t answer you.

“...Why did you feel the need to kill them…? Fuck…Why did you…Why did you kill the other survivors…?!”

Another pause followed your words as Alastor tilted his head, his bob tickling his cheeks as the wind tousled it gently. The words that exited his lips were accompanied by an odd frequency, filtered and distorted until his voice was as grotesque and bizarre as his transformation.

“...What an odd question from the one requesting their blood be shed in the first place; but I suppose I’m inclined to give an answer…”

A few steps forward brought him in front of you, kneeling to accommodate your weakened state.

“Doll…Have you ever heard of the phrase, ‘The devil’s in the details…?’”

The silence following your partner’s words seeped into your subconscious as he continued to fuel your ears with your own words.

“You were the one requesting I ‘“pick off the others”’… I dare say you even made mention for me to, ‘“Stab people”’…? Why are you confused dear…? I only did as requested.”

The horror in your heart as you realized your audible mistake was immense. You hadn’t specified who Alastor killed, just that he did so.

You were just as guilty in everyone’s demise as your partner was…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor regarded you with a curious grin, regret blooming onto your features as if your skin was a beautifully curated garden, lush with melancholy and woe.

The sight was delicious. Your despair was a feast.

As precious moments passed by and the elusive sun reflected in the metal buttons, trinkets and pins on your denim jacket; the same type of question graced your lips a second time.

“...But….Why did you kill all of them….I-I didn’t ask you to….You knew I meant the….The bad ones…”

“Oh? Did I?”

You glanced up at him in wary confusion.

“ How are you so sure? After all, verbiage is very important when it comes to contractual agreements.”

A chuckle left him, sharp and eloquent.

“Since there were no such specifications, I just took the liberty to execute my end of our bargain with only the utmost dedication…You're most welcome, by the way.”

Straightening his monocle with his free hand; Alastor made a minor adjustment to insure its continued attunement to his face. Words flowed from his practiced lips like silk.

“The others served me no purpose, and I dare say it’s a bit unfair to have a young lady do all the work herself. They would have benefited from all of your hard work and you would’ve received no compensation for it. We couldn’t have that…”

“But…They were just trying to survive, like I was…Like w-we both were…”

Your voice grew with the added weight that your heavily clouded thoughts no doubt provided.

“Why…Why didn’t you kill me…?”

It was a rhetorical question, uttered to yourself in the faintest, most poignant of whispers; a doubt so profound it sent your callous voice retreating into the back of your throat. How pathetically adorable.

However pleasant and enjoyable the sight your mental turmoil produced; your persistent scowl accompanied such an ugly little frown on your delicate, bloodstained features. He would fix that. Promptly.

“My dear, we are partners, are we not? You said so yourself…So why in Heaven’s name would I end someone who has proved beneficial to me? It’s a bad business practice. Surely you can understand something so simple…”

“I…I get that, but…Why even go through all the trouble to leave a witness in the first place…? You killed everyone else, so why not take my life too? Sounds half assed if you ask me…If you’re gonna commit to a killin’ spree, then you better damn well finish what you started…”

The timorous eyes that hid from him boldly gave themselves as a gift, dauntless in presentation as you gazed at him. The sunlight and the flames surrounding you supplied the additional amount of charm reflected in your eyes. It was an inner strength Alastor was marveled by.

Defiant little thing. He laughed, appreciating the challenge your venomous gaze wordlessly taunted him with. What fun you were.

Unfortunately for you, he would be the one calling the shots.

“You’re right. I love an audience, but usually my “hobbies” were never public knowledge in life. Ha! I do suppose you are right, though. How “half assed” of me indeed…However, it is not an issue I intend to amend…”

Alastor brought his hand to your chin, the pad of his thumb tactfully floating over your bottom lip. You flinched at his touch but didn’t back away.

“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t allow the chance for any witnesses; but you have dutifully performed your purpose and have kept your side of our shared bargain. A reward for your services is owed to you, yes?”

Crisp, unwavering irises bore into bloody ones as the demon’s smile upped in charm.

“Besides, I…”

Propping his forearm on his knee; his free hand shuffled amongst the contents of his coat pocket in search of something to occupy the emptiness of his claws. His finger tips ached for something of old habit.

“...I suppose you could say that I’ve taken a shine to you…You have moxie. A will, a determination, to survive. I’ve witnessed you dauntlessly stare death in the face thrice this evening, plus or minus a few tears and a bit of bloodshed, of course…”

The tips of his claws found purchase on the carton of his favorite brand of cigarettes that made a nest in his breast pocket. They had remained from the last time they were ever used, some fifty odd years ago.

He placed the fragile, open pack of cigarettes on the wet earth, reaching for one to light. He took note of how your eyes flitted to his hands; a curiosity, a distrust of him, taking root in their depths. Good. He had always liked keeping his audience on their toes, guessing what his next move would be.

“You could say that you have a light in your eyes that the others failed to possess…”

Finally procuring a smoke from his old carton of Lucky Strikes, Alastor made haste in lighting one between his red fingertips. Now in his usual form, his power was restored to him.

“You intrigue me; and it would be a disservice to you to allow that spirit of yours to dwindle if I have means to curate it and offer it another opportunity to thrive.”

Lifting the chosen cigarette to his lips, he took in a long drawl before blowing smoke out of the side of his smile. He stifled a cough, not used to the all too familiar burn after years out of practice. The taste, though old, was just as he remembered. Terrible; but the rush he desired was still the same.

“Sometimes you must let game go so they may give you a greater thrill in the future…Any good hunter worth his salt knows this…”

Another drawl of the nicotine in his fingers had him blowing the smoke over his shoulder. The smell was just as foul as the smog wafting over the stagnant water of the bayou.

“Killing you, my dear, would have certainly been a treat; but knowing I am the sole reason for your escape is the greater thrill this morning. Perhaps, one of these days, you will find yourself in front of my blade rather than behind it…Only time will tell…”

The thumb floating over your bottom lip finally pressed into your skin, ghosting over your frown until it reached its corner. His palm cupped your face as he pinched the excess skin in between his fingers.

Alastor was silent a moment, captivated by the scowl and that disgruntled stare you presented him.

“Hmm…I suppose that beneath all the muck, grime and that vexing frown of yours…”

His grip tightened on your cheek as he pulled at your face teasingly, moving his cigarette away from his lips.

“... There is a sweetness to your features…A softness I quite like…”

His claw pushed further into your cheek, blood gently oozing out of your flesh as he carefully went in an upward line; tracing a lopsided smile into your dimple.

If you wouldn’t willingly give him a smile, then he would make one.

You flinched at the pain the demon inflicted, but dared not move away. He admired your wisdom and your willingness to acknowledge that you were bested. You were out classed, and he could do to you what he wished. You were his captive audience and he had you tuned into every single word he deemed fit to express. It was such a delicious experience.

Perhaps he should’ve at least asked for a grin before he departed. His mannerisms just ensured he would see one from you that morning, but perhaps you would be generous after he was so kind as to spare you? A smile was the only thing he requested in thanks for his generosity. Supplying one shouldn’t be that hard for you.

“...Of course, you would look one hundred times better with a nice little grin. Surely you’ll grant me the pleasure of seeing it…?”

Alastor tilted his head as he regarded you, adding a teasing lilt to his calculated crooning.

“You would do anything for your partner, yes…? Such a loyal, dutiful little soul you are…”

The audible, mocking purr forming in the depths of his throat faded as his own smile grew in devilish charm. What a sight you were. An obstinate statue of dismal decorum. One he could, he would, will to submission.

Just as he silently willed it did it come forth, tentative and delicate. Obviously laced with fear and disdain. The curvature of your lips was not quite genuine, defiant as you begrudgingly gifted a grin to him. Still, it was a gift he accepted all the same; regardless of how stubborn and unwillful the presentation.

What a treat, to come across such an adorably, obstinate soul. Your company certainly proved to be enjoyable, strangely enough. Alastor was thankful he didn’t kill you when he had the chance. A world of entertainment would’ve been lost without your company.

His eyes clung to the reticent smile embroidered into your features as your brow furrowed; painting a peculiar expression that he just couldn’t get enough of.

He couldn’t look away.

“...Breathtaking…”

Lifting his cigarette to his lips once more, Alastor took a deep inhale of smoke only to blow it back into your face with a proud chuckle. His eyes finally tore themselves from your smile to meet your eyes once more. He watched with twisted glee as you scrunched your nose up at the smell, coughing feebly into your sleeve.

Your varied reactions that morning had more than satiated his curiosity. For once, in a long while, the demon was content.

“Now…You’ve been a lovely audience; but I’m afraid that this is where we part…”

Releasing your face from his hold, he patted your cheek gently. He was sure to coat his fingers in copious amounts of the blood trickling down from the marks he created before letting you go.

“...Perhaps we will meet again, old sport…”

A hunger was present in his gaze as he took a final drawl from his cigarette before throwing it to the weeds, quenching the few sparks his actions made into the muck under the heel of his oxfords. He held the smoke in his lungs only to release it as he gripped the edge of your baseball cap. With a delicate flick of his claws, the hat was moved to obscure your vision as he gave a fond, jaunty laugh. As promised, amusement flooded his chest when he watched you fix your cap to its original place on your crown with a hefty huff.

Yes. Your company was most satisfying indeed…

“Until then…Adieu…”

Feeling his time was amply used to its maximum purpose, he turned on his heel and headed promptly into the direction of naked trees and sparse foliage. Freedom greeted him in the light of the dawn, the chirping of crickets dying away as morning echoed its breath over everything in sight. A hum found its way on his lips, pleased and bold as he put a bit more pep in his step in his exit; sufficiently satisfied with leaving you as his sole witness.

According to Alastor, you had more than earned the opportunity to keep your life.

It was a fate most befitting for any partner worthy of the Great Radio Demon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing your cap from your partner’s rude treatment of it, you lifted the hat from your head only to place it gently back in its place. Your eyes glared at the remnants of the smoldering cigarette butt that made the grass into a makeshift funeral pyre, smoke giving the sparks brief life even moments after they were snuffed out.

Why did Alastor even feel the need to snuff out a possible fire threat when the whole premises was already ablaze? It made no sense to your tired mind as your eyes broke from the corpse of the cancer stick in front of you to the other fresh corpse beside you. Guilt gripped your chest yet again as fear ripped your focus to your shaking, sin-covered palms.

The smile Alastor coaxed from you previously with his words and his claws remained, frozen as your hands shook. You clenched and unclenched your bloody, oil covered fingers as you steadied your breathing. You willed the desire to scream, to sob, to leave you.

You would not cry.

You. Would. Not. Cry.

Tears as defiant as you stung the wounds in your cheeks in their fearful descent as your grin faltered into a downward curve. You bit your bloody lip, harsh breathing traded for stifled screams. Regret held you in a choke hold as the gravity of your despair ripped your throat on its way out. You weren’t sure if the taste of iron was from your busted lips or the magnitude of your voice.

Your head molded into your hands, muffling your anguished cries in an attempt to calm your torrential emotions; but to no avail.

You were pathetic. Why were you weeping? You weren’t mourning the dead; but your integrity. Yourself. You selfishly drew in breath while the other survivors, victims, would never have that opportunity to do so again.

All because of the words you misspoke in haste to secure your own future.

Why were you sobbing? Why were you so ungrateful for the chance to live? You cared for no one but yourself, so why did tears insist on falling for complete strangers?

Why didn’t you beg, insist, for Alastor to kill you too?

You didn’t deserve to be alive. You were a mistake. A useless partner, getting caught constantly and needing someone else’s protection and blaming your shortcomings onto Alastor when he wouldn’t help you. You were useless when it came to survival, when it came to helping anyone else but yourself…

You truly were a useless soul, petulant and needy.

Useless. Selfish. Awful.

Bereft for complete strangers and left shocked to your core, your voice continued to escape loudly into the air. Your voice was free.

You were free.

You were alive. They were not.

You. Were. Alive.

You were the only one alive…

But at what cost…?

“...Dammit…!”

You bit down into your palms, tasting earth, iron and oil as you felt the grit of loose gravel against bone. Only the wretched taste of dirt and blood and the intensity of flesh being painfully punctured under teeth was available to you.

The pain meant you were alive...

…You didn’t deserve to be alive…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The favored taste of old pennies remained in the back of the Overlord’s pallet, enjoyable down to the last taste as Alastor licked his fingers clean. The previous sight of your blood reawakened his hunger. It was only fitting he should allow himself a taste. It was a sufficient reward for his own successful efforts.

After all, it was breakfast time once again.

The all too familiar, bitter savor of metal lingered on his claws and tongue as a melody came to life in the radio host’s voice. A bright, tenor hum greeted the sunrise as the snap of twigs and crunch of grass turned to debris under his oxfords. Alastor was in his element; and for the first time in a long while, he was content.

Things were good, thanks to you.

Turning a sharp left around a group of dismal looking shrubs and trees, the peculiar sight of something as otherworldly as himself caught Alastor’s eye. Deep in the depths of the foliage, broken tree stumps and endless cattails was a portal. Its construction was very much akin to his own he would use to teleport around the hotel and all throughout Hell.

Perhaps this “Entity” you spoke of previously was pleased with his slaughter; having a portal prepared for his return home? How convenient…

Swift, long strides carried the Overlord closer to the gateway that awaited him. Beyond the threshold was the all too familiar sights of his radio tower, his broadcasting equipment just as he had left it as the fresh scent of coffee wafted into his greedy senses.

Before he could move any further towards his destination, however, the exhilarating sound of an all too familiar voice graced his hearing. Velvety ears swiveled around at the sound, intent on capturing each individual cadence and rhythm the voice presented.

You could be heard gracelessly caterwauling just over the expanse of pitiful trees that surrounded the demon, a great distance away. Despite the dissonant way you carried your voice, your screams were entrancing. Enthralling. Once again, you had captured his attention with ease.

Alastor closed his eyes to appreciate the magnitude of the suffering he audibly held witness to. Not only had you given him a smile, but a beautifully orchestrated chorus of screams? You were far too generous.

He was giddy. Elated. The sound of such sweet sorrow lifted his spirits. What a delightful parting gift you had bestowed.

‘...Such an interesting and useful little thing you’ve proven to be…’

With the corners of his lips lifted significantly, Alastor made a decision. One of these days, he would see you again; and what a wonderful reunion it would be indeed.

It was just a matter of when…

Pausing a moment more, the demon contented himself with listening to the impassioned fragments of your agony until the wind carried the pleasure of your voice from him. Your volume died with the night.

Despite the shortness of your performance, he committed the experience to memory. The pitifulness of your existence embedded itself into his clothing and his mind, demanding to be remembered.

Alastor breathed in once more, enraptured with the rarity the night had supplied him. Thanks to you, he was more than satisfied. Your “song” had left him genuinely renewed. Realizing the gravity of such a rare thing deserved a bit of reverence as he took a sharp breath, memorizing the way the morning tasted of smoke and terror. It wasn’t too dissimilar from where he was headed.

“...My, what a lovely send off; and such a pleasant way to commemorate our partnership. Though, It’s such a shame there isn’t enough time for an encore... Oh well. Perhaps another time…”

Stepping through the provided portal, the first notes of birdsong resumed throughout his surrounds, mirroring Alastor’s humming from before. He glanced behind him with a fond grin filled to the brim with excitement; taking in the remnants of smoke on the opposite horizon as the gateway to you closed behind him.

…His partner truly was the best.

#hookedonhazbin2024 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel halloween #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #dead by daylight crossover #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Thank you so much for reading!!!!#I hope you had fun and enjoyed the ride!#Thanks for staying tuned!

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newyorkthegoldenage · 20 days ago

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With a turn of a ceremonial key, Parks Commissioner Walter R. Herrick demonstrated the newly installed sprinklers throughout Central Park on December 8, 1928.

The Times reported that the pipes of the new irrigation system, which have "concealed spray heads," will be controlled by a timer and create a fine mist. "Its operation starts with an electric clock which turns the system on or off at the given time." The system was estimated to do in 10 minutes the watering work of 10 men over several days.

Photo: NY Times

#vintage New York #1920s #Central Park #sprinklers #sprinkler system #Dec. 8 #8 Dec.#parks #irrigation system #1920s New York

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goodolddumbbanana · 4 months ago

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(Molten/Sun platonic) A little nightmare [TW: Violence, blood, maybe bugs]

Summary: I like angsty and fluff. i have problem man.

The Thing Creator install still inside Sun's head. It still totured Sun but it made him forget everything after he woke up.

They say there are three things that separate machines from humans.

The first is that humans feel pain, machines don't.

The second is that humans can dream, machines don't.

And the last is that humans have emotions, machines can only fake them.

So when all three conditions are met, can machines call themselves human?

***

Someone's heavy breathing. The hallway is dyed red with blood, seeing the fleeing figure struggling in the swamp of flesh and bone that is dragging them down. They are like trapped in the stomach of a monster, with the walls vibrating in a steady rhythm as if breathing and the flickering eyes that watch their misery like something to behold.

Sun tries to pull himself out of the swamp. His limbs thrash in panic, as his mouth opens, hoping to get some oxygen. A sweet, fishy taste rushed into Sun’s mouth, making him make pitiful gurgling noises as he was about to choke.

‘It’s not real.’

‘It’s all in your head, Sun.’

‘Be patient, Moon will come to save you.’

But no matter how many times he repeated the mantra, Sun himself couldn’t believe it.

Every night. Every damn freaking night. Sun would be stuck here, reliving the endless pain his dear old father had left him the day that wretched old hag hacked into his head.

First was the broken leg .

Pain that made him hard to breathe. Pain that felt like his lungs were being squeezed and submerged in water. Pain worse than anything Eclipse and Moon had ever put him through before, pain that left him unable to scream. His nails dug into the metal, bending it and creating ugly scratches and dents as an unhealthy defense mechanism to ease the pain.

If Sun had a tongue, he would have bitten it off by now.

Then came the loss of vision .

The mist was so thick it was hard to breathe, surrounding Sun like a heavy, wet blanket. It clung to Sun’s throat, sharp as if it contained tiny metal fragments, invading Sun’s circuit boards and fans like termites, feasting on the wires inside Sun’s body. It felt like thousands of worms were eating him from the inside out, with buzzing sounds mixed with screams that almost reached the limits of Sun’s madness.

‘Tear it out… Tear it out… Take it all out! PLEASE!!!’

Sun cried out for help, but nobody came. His pearly eyes were still red, the smell of burning flesh lingering in his nose like sap on the hottest day. The electric explosions were whistling inside him, the system kept popping out golden triangles, even now, it was replaced by plump white legless creatures crawling across his inner screen.

Hearing was the last thing.

In that eerie silence, Sun's screams were swallowed into nothingness. He had a mouth, but he couldn't scream.

***

"Frog dissection experiments are really inhumane, right Mr.Sun?"

Sun blinked, and suddenly, he was in the daycare. The room music was whispering in his ears, and the brilliant colors of light kissed Sun's skin.

'Wha–?!'

A small hand grabbed Sun's ribbon and shook it. The little boy with the superhero cape had eyes shining like stars, looking at him with anticipation and excitement.

"What did you say? I don't understand..." Sun stuttered. "Well... It's educational to some extent... I guess?"

"Sunny!!..." The kid huffed. The other kids looked at each other with amusement.

"See, Huey, you're wrong!" Another kid, wearing big glasses and blond hair, shouted.

"Shut up Jackie! My mom says it's not nice to hurt animals!" Huey waved his arms wildly, for some reason the red of the cape wrapped around this kid reminded him of blood.

"Pfft!! You are chicken!! Chicken Huey!" Jackie stuck out his tongue.

The twins behind him squealed with laughter, matching the rhyme: "Huey's a chicken! Huey's a chicken!"

"Come on James, Jamie. You can't tease Huey like that." Sun cut off the teasing when he noticed Huey was starting to tear up. “That’s not good, okay?”

“I’m not a chicken.” Huey’s eyes were red, his voice starting to crack. Sun pulled Huey into his arms, patting the child’s back. A sick feeling came over him as the child lay snugly in his arms.

“No one said Huey was a chicken. You’re the bravest person I know. Those kids were just teasing…”

“But what do you think, Sunny?”

A whisper rang out in Sun’s heart. The music had stopped at some point, and something was dripping behind Sun.

“What–!?”

“Do you think that because a frog’s life is worth less than a human’s, it deserves to be tortured like that, Sun?”

Something slipped out of Sun’s arms, falling to the ground. A human body, the body of a child. In Sun’s arms was only Huey’s head. Two empty eye sockets stared at him, the boy’s mouth still open, smiling at him.

In the blink of an eye, what had once been the daycare was gone. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and blood was in Sun's hands. But right now, Sun was too small, too weak. A laugh rang out, a laugh that Sun was sure was his own, but it didn’t escape his mouth.

His clone, another Sun, stood before Sun with a look of satisfaction. There was blood on the other’s sunbeam, and his intestines and brains were still neatly placed on the monster’s shoulders.

“Brother, look. We have a winner~~~”

“Oh~~~Why don’t we give the winner a prize?”

Sun didn’t even have time to react.‌ The other’s claws shot out, grabbed Sun’s head, and slammed it hard against the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything but watch as his brains were splattered and his limbs were torn to pieces like rag dolls.

***

“Doctor, look at this specimen.” Sun suddenly found himself trapped in some kind of operating room, with his real body. Surrounded by anatomical images of fish, frogs, and even worms. Opposite his sight was a fish tank. The goldfish swam silently inside, circling around a moon doll whose head was torn off by someone. “Even though it’s dead, it can still move~~~”

Bloodmoon appeared before Sun’s eyes, the red moon model grinning at him with delight, the monster wearing a pure white nurse’s uniform, not a single blemish in contrast to their bloody hands.

The other person was also Bloodmoon, but it was the one who had been destroyed by Puppet. Over their red and blue coats was a surgical gown that specialized doctors often wore.

Sun felt the inside of his chest split open, these two gremlins's hands rudely stirring up the wires and circuit boards inside.

“ Hmm, you’re right, my nurse. Let’s say, I think if we increase the current, I feel like we can make some progress .” Blood nodded, as they ruthlessly tore the fan off Sun’s body.

“ Aren’t you afraid it will die again? ” The other chuckled, but his hand was already ready to plug the power cord into Sun’s charger.

“ Isn't It just a useless thing, my nurse? We can easily replace it with something else .”

And the pain tore everything white, accompanied by Bloodmoon’s cruel chuckle.

***

Sun felt like he was going crazy.

Maybe he was already crazy.

In a blink of an eye, he was back in hell. His whole body was shaking, choking on the air filled with mist and smoke, with a heavy feeling like someone’s hand was dragging him down into the mud. Sun could only limp to the ground, even moving an inch was enough to hurt him so much that he couldn’t breathe.

A black figure stood staring at him, an almost octopus-like body with tendrils shooting out all around, pitch black with irises staring back at him.

“What more do you want!!?” Sun spat. He glared at the person in front of him. His torturer. His prisoner. His newest roommate for over a dozen days.

The Thing.

And as always, the bastard said nothing. A virus, whose sole purpose was to torture him, that didn’t even have a sentient yet.

It moved closer to Sun, the seemingly delicate yet sturdy metal wires pulling Sun up despite Sun’s feeble struggles. The wires clung to the joints and shafts of the frame, tight enough to make him walk like a puppet.

“What?!‌! Say something!!!”

There was only silence in response. There was the sound of dripping water, and the rattling of plastic balls in Sun’s ears. The pain suddenly disappeared, as did the unreadable look on ‘The Thing ’s’ face, always shrouded in red mist.

Sun felt no pain. He felt nothing. He felt empty, so empty and peaceful that it was scary.

Suddenly, a loud, harsh noise, the sound of metal breaking.

What could it be? Sun wondered absentmindedly, suddenly finding his vision lowered.

Oh… The thing that broke turned out to be him.

Piece by piece… Piece by piece the metal that had once shaped Sun fell, crumbling to dust. His face fell off, sinking into the water.

The darkness was cold and too suffocating.

Sun prayed that this would be his final destination.

***

“Sun? Sun, wake up.”

A strange, monotonous, mechanical sound rang out in Sun’s ears.‌ The saffron-colored animatronic jerked awake in confusion, its mouth opening in a jumble of questions.

A soft icy blue light caught Sun’s eyes. A Freddy model with white fur and orange spots, looked at him curiously.

“Oh? Molten? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, no. I saw you fall asleep. Are you tired, Sun?”

Sun looked around in confusion. He was sitting in front of the movie screen. It was strange, when did he fall asleep? He and Molten were watching a movie. Something from Marvel… Then maybe he fell asleep because he was bored? Sun checked his internal system, and found that his battery was only below 30%.

“Oh… It’s okay Molten, I just forgot to plug it in. I guess practicing magic somehow drained my energy more than usual.”

“Can I help? I want to help.” Molten’s ears twitched as if he was excited. It was strange because Sun had never seen Freddy or any Freddy model like Molten.

It was… quite cute to some extent.

“Oh, no need.” Sun stood up and stretched. His whole body was sore, probably from lying in the wrong position. Right now, all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but the thought of going back to sleep or standing up to charge somehow made him feel discouraged .

Never mind, he could charge himself standing up with the solar power anyway.

“Are you used to everything here, Molten?”

“Yes! Everyone here is really nice!!” Sun could feel stars twinkling in Molten's eye as they rambled on about Moon, about Solar, about Daycare…

“And you haven’t met Jack and Dazzle yet. They’re all pretty cool, trust me.” Sun chuckled, his eyes wandering to the chair where the popcorn crumbs were scattered. It was dirty , bugs, bugs, he hated bugs… Why does he feel like he wants to hit something right now?

“Oh, new friends? I like having new friends. We can play games, and watch movies…” Molten nodded. Their hands were bent, but the sharp, smooth wire still made a rustling sound along the way. Something made Sun feel uneasy, but Sun didn't know what it was.

Maybe he should ask Moon to run the system again, it had been a long time since he had upgraded anyway.

But maybe later. Moon was quite busy, and Solar too. The Computer got broke, which caused them a lot of trouble. Too much work to do and too little time to spend.

"But you're fine, Sun." The words sounded so gentle in Sun's ears that he was startled. Sun looked up, Motlen's face still looked the same, a look of innocent joy that made Sun a mixture of guilt and relaxation.

Why are you so nice to me? I don't deserve it, I really don't deserve it at all. I'm not as smart as Moon or as reliable as Solar. Even Monty is more responsible than me.

I will destroy you.

I will be the venom that will burn you from the inside.

I will turn the best part of you into something ugly, like Rocksan, like Nexus, all because I dare to think about caring.

Eclipse is right, I'm an ungrateful idiot who only knows how to cling to others.

As if reading his mind, Molten smiled. "I love to hang out with you because I know you are a good and caring person. But I know it is hard for you to believe it. So I will keep saying these words until you believe the words I say are true."

Something stirred in Sun's chest, so quickly that he immediately suppressed the feeling.

Can he really have a friend? Someone wouldn't suddenly break like Rocksan, someone wouldn’t be so spiral like Nexus.

Is it okay for him to have someone other than Moon?

“Hahahaha… yeah sure, Molten.”

Sun laughed, but inside he had no answer to that confusion.

Please leave me.Please stay with me.

***

“Hope is a terrible thing, Sun. It keeps you from giving up no matter how hard things get, but it can also make your situation worse without you even knowing it. Why is the sinner clings to a spider’s thread, even though he knows it will break, he still tries to climb up countless times?

That is because of hope, or desperation?

A song that is danced to many times will become boring too, don’t you think it is true, son? Are you ready to give up?”

Creator asked his creation affectionately, who was forcefully sitting on a throne that was stacked high with human bones.

Exhausted, bloody, bruised, and stained with a clean brown and yellow, the son of the most self-absorbed bastard on the planet, who could only move his head right now, gritting out the words.

“Go to hell, old man.”

“Oh well, and I thought I am making some progress. It's a shame this talk didn’t work out. Let's try again, my boy. See you next time, Sun.”

The brain chuckled, and once again the hands grabbed Sun and pulled him into the water, making gurgling, gurgling sounds.

“Maybe I should switch the target to Molten.”

#sun and moon show #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sams sun #tsams sun #tsams molten #molten x sun #haha i am crused #molten/sun

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burdigel · 3 months ago

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Theories and Headcannons Pt. 24

So a week ago we got a little teaser from Martyn about hints for the next Life Series season, around an hour after we got another subtle clue from Cherrifire, a commissioned arist of Martyn and Grian for their thumbnails. Moving onto four days later where in a Phasmo stream with GIGS, Grian althought not explicitly, teased the recording of a certain something. That something most likely being the next installment of the Life Series as he previously stated during the aftermath of the Ender Cup, that the next season was in development. So now four months later, and with the release of that little crumb of information you would think it would be the last. But approximately an hour ago (of the time writing this), Scar drops a bombshell of information as a GIF of traffic lights blinking.

Effectively reinforcing the possibility of the next season arriving extremely soon as traffic lights is a predominant symbol of the Life Series with the three-life system of green, yellow, and red matching with the known pattern of traffic lights. Hence traffiblr also referring to the Life Series.

With the date of the next season of the Life Series been generally confirmed, the twist of this subsequent still remains unknown. But by disecting each post from credible sources (Inthelittlewood, Cherrifire and GoodtimewithScar), it's possible to gain a sliver of understanding about the next gimmick for this upcoming season.

Starting with Martyn's post, his reponse to a question regarding the Life series were a series of rhyming verses otherwise known as a couplet. His reponse goes as:

"Nope. Not a slither, not a slice, not a hint, not a price,

not a right, not a wrong, not a verse, not a song,

not a fork, not a list, not a fog, not a mist,

not a shine, not a spree, not a thing from me"

With lines and words like not a slither, slice, hint, verse, list and not a thing from me commonly used in other media to express a concept that is left unsaid or unexplained to conceal or hide information. Other phrases like not a price, right, wrong, song, fork, fog, mist, shine and not a spree seem unusual and seem only used to act as rhyming words. But since this couplet's rhyming patterns goes like (word) (rhyming word) (word) (rhyming word), words like price, wrong, song, mist and spree can be eliminated only leaving right, fork, fog and shine used for clues.

Words like fog and shine can be connected easily with the concept of revealing something concealed by layers of dense things with the good or "light". Maybe uncovering the lore of the Watcher's to the rest of the participants as the right path taken since the Watcher has a lasting cameo in the previous Life Series. It would be poetic as the fifth installment of the Life Series that the Watchers would return as an antagonist force. The way fork is incoporated into this theory is the mannered and dignified repute it carries where in the eleventh century, it was considered prestigous or vain to use a fork. Similar to the Watchers and the means they present themselves.

Other theories like @strychninesss 's double life 2 utilises the couplet's use of repition and pairs to conlclude the return of the soulmate gimmick with its repeatability and new possibilities with the pairing of new soulmates.

Our second poem arrived from Martyn's accomplice Cherrifire, with her reply to his cryptid poem was to produce another poem herself and that being:

"Oh, well in that case you're not getting a peep, not even a taste of the secrets I keep.

Of course, I could tell you all I know, but it's way more fun to give you a show.

Or perhaps this is all a trick, and Martyn’s just being a— very mean person.

Whatever it may be, you'll just have to wait and see."

With this poem following the rhythmic pattern of (Rhyming) (Rhyming), the couplet mainly focuses on the information Cherri deliberately chooses to withold and the her dilemma to diclose her details to fandom. In the end, she decides to hold the spoilers and express her intrest into the chaos that can produced with limited clues given before the said show begins.

Well the structure and the style of the poem is reminiscient of how the Watchers approach and address the members of Evolution SMP back in 2017. With the Watchers depicted as this all-knowing beings that can see everything and perceive all things, they often speak in this entitled mannerisim due to their privileged abilities. And with the legacy of the Watchers being continued but altered with every iteration or headcannon of them, they have commonly been altered into these beings that revel in the chaos and angst produced by the participants of the Life Series. This message could be a warning to the fans that the Watcher's could play a more major role compared to the Secret Keeper in Secret Life as a tribute to the four seasons and three years of the Life Series.

These statements revealed by Grian, Scar, Martyn and Cherrifire has just almost confirmed the arrival of the season five for the Life Series be very soon. Although there is the possibility Grian could be hyping us up for an entirely different video that collaborates with other mcytbers, evidence piles to point towards the next installment coming hopefully, next week.

____

All links and references used are in the post and uh special thanks? regards? to @aethbeans and their twitter account that compiled messages from Scar's discord server regarding clues to the upcoming Life Series.

Oh COd I was scrambling to finish writing this one

#burd!theories&headcannons #trafficblr #traffic smp #life series #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #martyn inthelittlewood #gtws #martyn itlw #watchers #evo watchers #cherrifire #evo smp

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leportraitducadavre · 10 months ago

Note

How do you feel about Haku and Zabuza, and what was introduced in the Land of Waves that contained elements of genocide and the purging of the Hidden Mist? I'm just curious to know your thoughts on them and the structure the first arc provided

Haku introduced something that was later deepened with Sasuke's character and story. While Haku's experience is similar to Sasuke's, both contexts differ in that Haku knew from a young age the persecution of people like him (and his mother), while the discrimination of the Uchiha clan was much more specific as it was focused on one particular family.

The first arc introduces such matters, yet it does little to bring light to Konoha's particular case, which will become the plot's main focus later on. While it's established that Tobirama was the one that created the bureaucratic system that Konoha follows and which was used as a model for the rest,

Source

each village's relationship with kekkei genkai users varies, although every single one persecuted or discriminated against those with such techniques.

Kekkei Genkai are feared -therefore, those who possess them are persecuted/killed. While what he says is solely linked to Mist, the weariness towards those with such bloodlines is clearly universal as these individuals possessed the most "natural advantages" for combat out of most (likely, hidden techniques were created for a similar purpose).

Tobirama’s reason for discriminating against the Uchiha was because of how their doujutsu developed and evolved, and nothing of his weariness was overcome by those who came after him, as we see Haku, from another village and generation, suffering the consequences of a fear born on the Warring State Era. Kakashi is particularly accepted because he has the Sharingan but not the blood/chakra of a Uchiha as he’s not part of the bloodline.

Furthermore, Sasuke is directly mentioned in the exchange, Naruto even links Haku’s words to Sasuke’s goal: To kill someone (Itachi who killed his clan because of the fear they installed in the power-ups: they were accused and punished for controlling the Kyuubi without a shred of single evidence, Itachi even canonically states later on that there’s “no hope for this clan” meaning, those who carry the bloodline).

Haku's admission of feeling lonely and unwanted can be directly reflected in Sasuke's character and it's a comparison that Naruto makes for himself; all three children were shunned and abandoned for something they had no control over nor chose to have, and there's a system that not only turns a deaf ear to such issues but also encourages it.

There’s an interaction between Tazuna and Kakashi, where Kakashi mentions that a previous Hokage (we aren’t told whom) taught his people to “fight for what is right”, selling the idea to the civilian in front of him that his hidden village (specifically) is the “good” side against the “evil” side (Zabuza, Gato -even other hidden villages). However, this particular speech of Kakashi, which he gives solely to Tazuna and not to his subordinates (who, by Tazuna’s standards are children), clashes with the prior idea that “missions’ feuds are high and we do what we are paid to do” (assassinations or babysitting). Meaning: there’s a narrative to be told to civilians to shape their view of shinobi (particularly Konoha’s), and the actual reality that only Team 7 (as ninjas), gets to see. In addition, during Kakashi’s second fight against Zabuza (CH 30), Kakashi states that Konoha (therefore, he), knows about the swordsman’s attempt to coup and kill the current Mizukage -alongside his wish to raise funds to attempt another coup after his failure. We learned previously thanks to Haku’s background that there’s a bloodline cleansing currently happening in Mist; a genocide on such a large scale can’t be kept secret that long -furthermore, there’s no indication that the murders are happening quietly either since those who possessed Kekkei Genkai were pushed to hide their bloodline; and if Konoha knows about Zabuza and his attempt to take over the government, then they surely know about the reasons behind it. What I mean by this is what follows: Kakashi and Konoha claim that they fight for “the right thing” to those civilians they encounter, but do nothing -neither military nor diplomatically, to stop those massacres from occurring (nor do they take a stance against them either, as it reduces Mist numbers and weakens their military power). They’re still pretty much in touch with the Mizukage that carried out/ordered such killings, for his government was the one that told Konoha about Zabuza’s attempted coup when declaring him rogue.

Source

The first arc is a great introductory arc; it establishes the notion of blood cleansing, discrimination, how shinobi fight for whoever pays their feeds, how uncomfortable many are with the idea of being tools, who the main characters in the dispute are (Naruto and Sasuke) and upon which ground they stand to carry out their respective actions against the system that aggravated them.

Naruto, even by the end of the arc, never disputed the idea of moving to reach his goal outside Konoha's system, as he never stated he wanted to stop being a ninja:

We are also shown how shinobi who go against the system are considered rogue (Zabuza), so Naruto stating that he'll create his own ninja path (fighting alongside the system) automatically puts Sasuke, who'll become the antagonist, outside that political bubble, turning him into a missing-nin.

I really like this arc and I'm glad it's the first one, I don't think it's the best one in the manga as many inside the fandom claim.

#naruto #naruto meta #haku #zabuza

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nearen · 4 months ago

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Prompt #1: Steer

“Adra! ADRA!”

Thud. Thud. THUD. THUD.

“ADRAAA!”

Blaring alarums almost drowned out the sound of Sven’s desperate efforts to break down the door to the engine room. They overlapped in a deafening, discordant rhythm as multiple systems reported critical failure throughout the ship.

Shut up, she snapped at him in her mind. Winding her fingers through her hair, she grasped handfuls of it as she paced the narrow corridor. Shut up, I need to think.

Above her, a valve blew its gauge. There was a metallic pling as a bolt shot across the room. Steam started to hiss, misting the air with oppressive, humid heat that made every breath feel like a gulp of warm water.

A saboteur had infiltrated the ship and meddled with its mechanisms. She surmised that much when she realised she was locked out of her failsafes. She was going to die, but that was fine. They didn’t all have to. Sven wouldn’t. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Arterial pipes ran throughout the ship. First, she had to close them. That would localise the damage to the room she was in—its insulated belly, the beating heart of the vessel, currently in the throes of cardiac arrest. The ship had more hope of staying in one piece if she could. It would still go down, and every system aboard would lose power, but they could control the descent.

As she set to work, readings poured in and streamed down a flickering console to her left, distorted by visual noise and the crack across the screen.

AUXILIARY TEMPERATURES ABOVE SAFE THRESHOLDS

You don’t say. Drenched in sweat, she could feel the very walls around her radiating heat. Each time she touched the console had to be brief or her fingertips would blister.

SAFEGUARD PROGRAMME ‘DELTA’ : FAILURE TO DEPLOY

We’ve exhausted plan B, then. Not that she’d held out much hope that any of her contingencies would save them at this juncture.

CORE PRESSURE LEVELS: CRITICAL

I know it hurts, old girl. Hold on just a little more, for me. All she needed was a few more precious moments. Adra knew she didn’t have them.

AETHERIC MODULATORS NOT DETECTED

That was the one that troubled her the most, because it suggested they’d been fried. But where was all that aether coming from?

A massive concentration of condensed, aspected aether would cause an explosion. It was going to happen. All she could do was decide where, and when. She’d have to manually direct the channels utilising analogue controls and trigger the detonation, because if this had to happen, it was happening by her own hand.

She’d been in two minds about installing aether-based technologies. It wasn’t easy finding engineers with the requisite expertise, and she didn’t like dealing with aether. Its raw form wouldn’t heed her, nor could she operate the technology required to direct it. She couldn’t abide the idea of entrusting that much power over her own vessel to someone else.

But the potential had been too alluring to deny. They’d tried to adapt a teleporter relying on the same principles utilised by aetherytes. In theory, it could warp the entire vessel and all its crew to another location instantaneously. In theory, because she’d never gotten it working. And now that useless chunk of crystal was going to destroy everything she’d achieved, everything she loved.

But not everyone.

Pipes burst around her. Searing hot ceruleum streamed down the walls, melting the metal in its path. A small explosion rocked the ship, and Adra was forced to hang onto a burning hot valve to avoid being tossed to the ground. It was now, or, well, now.

Grasping the lever with both hands, she pulled back. Every measure in place to prevent catastrophic failure was simultaneously deactivated. The result was instant. She didn’t have time to scream, feel pain, or regret the fleeting fragility of life. A soundless white flash engulfed her.

And then she woke, soaked in sweat, in her cot in the engine room. Its rhythmic purring assured her all was well. This was the CETEA, and she was en route to Kugane.

This dream, again.

When she’d heard what had happened to an unlucky number of the Unsung and one member of the crew, she’d been reminded of what had happened all those years ago. The similarities were plain. She’d even found herself flinching when she felt the explosion in the hangar as it shuddered through the ship.

An infiltrator. An aetheryte. A sudden displacement… even the destination was—not the same, but near enough to Doma. The only difference was that it hadn’t been her, this time.

She was still here.

It was time to get up and back to work.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #adra #cetea

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aspisfiresafetyltd · 2 years ago

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Mist Systems Installer - Aspis Fire Safety Ltd

Fire Sprinkler Systems have been the solution for the fire protection of domestic, residential, commercial & industrial spaces. However, for the past several years a new advanced technology is available to provide an alternative solution to fire protection.

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nullen-void · 7 months ago

Text

Captain Murray woke to a harsh buzzing and a gradual hissing. A bone-deep chill surrounded him, and he shivered on the cold, padded metal slab that had held his body for the past…

He grasped out blindly in the dark, and swore as his hand banged against the glass tube till covering the bed. He hated this model, the ice and condensation always made the lids stick, though his engineering chief insisted they were top of the line. He fumbled around at waist level before hitting the emergency release. The lid slid back with a pneumatic hiss. The lights in the room came on in response.

Captain Murray smacked the timer next to his cryopod and blinked stupidly at the flashing number on the screen.

“...Why in the hell--three months?”

The captain hated cryosleep. He hated it with a passion. He’d never been a fan of the cold in general, and ever since he took up the role as ship captain he could never seem to get warm; by the time he’d finally stopped shivering, it was back into the pod.

It was the price he paid for seeing the cosmos, he supposed.

He crawled out of the cryopod with a steady stream of grumbling, reaching for his uniform jacket and customary peaked hat. His boots seemed to be missing, which was typical.

Ugh, he couldn’t deal with this right now. Captain Murray had had a special button installed in his quarters for just this occasion, and he pressed it now.

After far too many minutes, the door to his room opened to admit a figure that could generously be described as ‘humanoid.’

“Trace?” Captain Murray mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

The clunky maintenance droid looked at the platter in its hand that held the captain’s coffee, then back at him. “Delivering your drink, captain,” it said in its usual toneless voice. It held up his boots in its other hand. “And these, captain.”

Murray blinked. But cryosleep always left him feeling sluggish, so he just took the mug gratefully and stepped into his shoes. He took a long, loud sip and sighed at the warmth it brought.

“Ahh, I needed that. Now,” he said, straightening up and willing the drowsiness away. “Trace, what’s going on? Why are you here and not the server drones?”

The robot took a moment to put together a response. “...The ship has fallen back into sublight space, captain. Emergency procedures are active, and the server drones are not considered vital operations.”

“Any idea why?”

“The server drones are a convenience for the human crew during scheduled system checks--”

“Not that!” the Captain snapped. “Why are we in realspace? The ship wasn’t supposed to wake us up for another three months!”

“I do not know, captain,” the droid said.

The captain grumbled. He shoved his way past the robot, but paused in the door. “...Can you at least tell me why you had my boots?”

“I set them aside for polishing,” Trace replied evenly. “I did not anticipate you awakening early.”

“Right.”

Putting the odd robot out of his mind, Captain Murray strode out into the hall. He glared at the lights overhead, only at half-luminosity, and clapped twice. “ICO! Fix the lights!”

“Yes. Captain,” came the response from the walls. The halls lit up, and Murray nodded in satisfaction.

He made his way through the ship, noting the open doors of each room, as well as the yellow warning lights adorning most panels. So, whatever happened triggered the emergency protocols, but isn’t actually an emergency in and of itself, eh? That left a limited number of scenarios.

But since it wasn’t an emergency, Murray indulged himself. He took a right at the first fork, deeper into the ship, and peeked in on the civilian population.

Mass Cryo-Storage Wing One was functioning at full capacity, said the panel by the door. On the screen he brought up the specs for the other storage units just to check, and all three were just as good. He let out a short breath, scowling at the way it misted in the chilly air.

“ICO, make sure the Cryo Wings are all closed,” he said into the panel’s speaker. “No sense letting the cold out and making the pod work harder.”

“Yes. Captain.”

“Why did they even design this hulk to open all the doors like that, it makes no sense,” he muttered.

He’d said it quietly to himself, but the ship’s AI must have overheard him, because it answered. “It is to aid in evacuation, should the need arise. In an emergency, opening doors would be an additional one-point-three seconds per room. The time wasted opening doors could prove crucial in--”

Murray waved, cutting him off. “Yeah yeah, I get it. Bloody annoying though.”

Cryo One’s door slid shut behind him as he returned to his path. A few minutes later, he made it to the bridge.

The rest of the crew was already present… most of them, anyway; Captain Murray noted a few empty seats, but since he couldn’t immediately remember the names of the people meant to sit there, he assumed they weren’t essential personnel.

The First Officer looked up from his console and saw him standing in the door. “Captain on deck!” he shouted.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stand, but Murray waved it away. Several of them stood there awkwardly, halfway through saluting. Rookies, Murray surmised.

“Captain,” the First Officer greeted as Murray took his seat. “We’re in the middle of--”

Captain Murray raised a hand, cutting him off. He wiggled in place, getting comfortable in the big chair. Finally, he took a long, several-second sip from his mug until the coffee was all gone. The First Officer waited patiently until he was finished.

That was how he knew it wasn’t a big deal, whatever was happening. If there was an actual emergency, Officer Ramirez would be trying harder.

Murray let a few more seconds pass in blissful silence, then finally got to the task of doing his job. “Alright. Mister Ramirez, why have we dropped into realspace three months early?”

Ramirez gestured to the diagnostics officer, who pressed a button.

Murray’s console unfolded itself in front of him and he examined the data it presented him.

“The forward scanners detected something in front of us and deactivated the void drive before we could impact,” the diagnostics officer explained.

Murray hummed. He didn’t pretend to fully understand how the Void Drive worked, but he knew enough to recognize that ramming into anything at superluminal speed would be a disaster. “There’s not supposed to be anything in our path. Any clue what it was, Hunt?”

The diagnostics officer snorted. “Hardly. Getting concrete readings over lightspeed isn’t easy, Captain. Everything comes back fuzzy and blue. All I can tell you is that it was smaller than the ship and moving.”

“An asteroid field, most likely,” Ramirez offered. “Floating somewhere in the void between stars. It would be easy to miss on the initial trajectory plotting.”

“I see,” Captain Murray said. He tapped a button, shifting the display to a radar screen. “Hunt, I’m assuming you’ve already sent out the scanner beam.”

“Yessir,” she confirmed.

“When do you expect to get an idea of how big the field is?”

“By my estimates, we’ll get results in seven more minutes. Then we can start navigating our way through the disturbance and resume the course.”

Murray drummed his fingers on his armrest. “...What are the chances we can go ahead and do the systems check right now and skip the next wakeup cycle? Get it out of the way?” he asked, already knowing the answer before Ramirez shook his head.

“I’m afraid not sir,” Ramirez said, smirking. “You’ll just have to set an alarm like everyone else.”

Murray grumbled. “Fine. Then at least send one of the maintenance droids to look over my pod.”

“Are you still saying--”

“I swear there’s a mechanical fault in the sliding panel, Tony!” Murray insisted. “Just because your door never sticks--”

“Uh, sir?” Hunt interjected.

The two men looked over, along with several curious officers. “Yes, what is it?”

“The data just returned…” Hunt said cautiously. “Early.”

Murray frowned. He shared a glance with Ramirez. “...And?”

Hunt stared down at her screen, expression blank. “The obstacle is… regularly shaped. Current distance is… ten light-minutes.”

“You’re making it sound like there’s just one--” Ramirez began.

Murray cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Hunt?”

“Nine minutes now,” Hunt answered. She swallowed. “Our sublights are idling, captain.”

The bridge was dead silent.

“...” Captain Murray folded his console away. “Officer Hunt, move your feed to the main screen.”

Dutifully, she did so, showing the entire room the object at eight light-minutes and closing.

“...”

“It’s slowing down to intercept, Captain,” Hunt reported.

An asteroid wouldn’t be able to slow down in the vacuum of space.

Captain Murray stood from his chair, face grave. “Mister Kelly, what do we have for short range communication?”

The comms officer snapped out of his shock and began typing at his station. “Transmitting hailing frequency, sir.”

--------------------------------

Colony Ship Maintenance Droid, Semi-Industrial Model, No.3, walked with purpose.

The ECS Winterbloom was not a new ship. While it still represented the peak of humanity’s technological achievement, it was several decades old at this point. This was its third mission, and while it had been retrofitted with the latest iteration of its propulsion systems and cryogenic facilities, much of the lesser functions of the ship were still working off the original model, and with age came wear.

Given that most of the time the ship’s crew and passengers were in stasis, it wouldn’t be a great loss if a door opened a little slower than normal or if a light fixture’s wiring burned out. But a small fault could lead to a big fault, or worse, disguise a big fault. So it was job of the ship’s maintenance droids to repair each and every malfunction as they cropped up.

No.3, compared to the other droids, was proactive. They actively sought out new tasks to perform, and even sought to make improvements where it could. During this most recent voyage, No.3 and the ship’s Integrated Computational Overseer had worked with the Winterbloom’s fabricator to produce longer-lasting LED lights, and had spent much of the last three years steadily replacing the old lights, recycling the old bulbs into the new design as they went. It was, No.3 admitted, a largely pointless task. With the humans asleep and the robots able to see with minimal lighting, there was little danger from the lights burning out.

During the previous voyage to establish a new colony, Officer Ramirez had for some reason latched onto No.3, calling them ‘Commander Tres’ based on their abbreviated designation. From there, the engineers started referring to them as Trace or Tracey in maintenance reports, and No.3 began getting preferential treatment in scheduled system checkups. Eventually, they gave Trace a new paint job to make them more distinct from the other droids, and finally one very bored techie had tinkered with Trace’s programming and expanded their awareness.

Trace found it… annoying. It voided their extended warranty, AND gave them the ability to grow bored. And boredom was plentiful once the colony was deemed self-sufficient and the Winterbloom was set up for a new mission. Months at a time passed without anything at all happening, and Trace couldn’t exactly go into sleep mode when there was work to be done.

Hence, the light bulbs. Something to do.

But it wasn’t light bulbs that they were concerned with today, no no. Trace walked with purpose because the crew was awake, and that meant mandatory life-support and ventilation checks. These would normally be done over the week before they awakened, but ICO had thawed them out early due to unforeseen circumstances.

All across the ship, Maintenance Droids No.1 through No.25 were hard at work ensuring that the oxygen scrubbers and water recyclers were up to spec; ICO’s systems said they were, but in space you always checked, just in case.

In case of what? Well, in case of this: Trace let out a satisfied whir as they pried up a panel and insected the generator underneath. This gauge was displaying temperatures approaching 43℃. It should not be doing that.

Trace got to work assessing what had gone wrong and why the system had falsely reported green; temperatures had to be closely monitored in a colony ship. This particular gauge was part of the regulating systems for Cryo Four. While the cryopods were swapped out with newer models the infrastructure supporting them largely wasn’t. This anomaly must be resolved before whatever malfunction that caused this began affecting the Cryo Wings.

Trace sent a ping to No.17 to check on Cryo Four just in case.

“Alert to all stations.”

One of Trace’s forward camera swiveled to look at the nearest wall console. “Responding.”

“Security Drones activating,” ICO intoned. “Protocol: UNDEFINED. Error. Working. Work--”

The soft female voice cut off with a beep. Trace imagined that the Captain was giving an order for ICO to interpret.

“Confirmed. Protocol: Mutiny (Adjusted: Hostile Outside Contact) logged. Enacting.”

That was worrisome. An ‘undefined’ protocol meant whatever was happening was something that hadn’t been anticipated by High Command or the Engineering Corps. Mutiny, though, seemed terribly unlikely; the current crew were highly professional and amiable with each other, according to Trace’s observation. So it was adjusted for… ‘Outside contact?’ Outside was nothing but empty space.

“ICO? What is happening?” Trace asked out loud. They could have sent a message through the network, but they had found that the ship was more likely to respond to verbal communication. Likely a consequence of being designed for human-friendliness.

A light on the wall console came on, and a camera lens swiveled to focus on the droid.

No.3. You are in Hallway 26, near Materials Storage West, ICO observed, speaking directly into Trace’s receiver.

Correct, they transmitted back.

ICO was silent for a mere two seconds, a moment that for the two machines was abnormally, worryingly long.

You must vacate the area, ICO said.

Trace’s optics clicked. They looked at the gauge they’d been working on. The temperature was falling again, back down to acceptable levels, but not optimal. And they had yet to find the source of the sensor malfunction. I am not yet finished with repairs.

The console’s speakers crackled to life. “You MUST vacate the area!”

The unexpected urgency in the AI’s voice had them hurrying to the panel. “Why, what is happening?”

“They are attempting to ram--!”

The floor underneath them shook and the lights overhead flickered. A hideous shriek of twisting metal pierced the quiet of the corridor and threatened to overload Trace’s audio sensors.

The robot turned away from the wall. And even if they hadn’t been given wider mental capacity, they might have been dumbfounded by what they saw.

On the wall opposite ICO’s panel, six meters to Trace’s left, a massive spear-shaped construct had pierced the ship’s hull. It was a revolting, unpolished mess of dark gray metal that shone a dull yellow under the flickering lights.

The construct wedged itself into the hole it had made, and Trace watched panels pop off of it, foam expanding to seal off the aperture completely just before the tip opened up.

Another shriek of metal. Trace swiveled to see a second intruder in the opposite direction. They heard a third echo down the corridor, beyond their sight. But before they could discern from where, the first vessel hissed again.

And it was a vessel. The tip of the spear-like construct folded in on itself, revealing the hollow interior. And out from within it strode five… figures.

They weren’t human. Humans had fewer limbs than that.

Their features were hidden beneath the environmental suits they wore, but the visor of their helmets pointed towards Trace, and they pointed aggressively.

So, this was what the ‘adjusted mutiny’ was about.

Trace unfolded. The robot’s upper limbs each split in two vertically, mirroring the invaders’ own four arms, and unfolded further into a variety of tools. Hopefully a saw and welding torch would do something to those suits.

But Trace would never know how a simple (jailbroken) maintenance droid might have fared in combat, because a squad of security drones arrived just then. And while four of the five invaders in front of them began firing their weapons at the newcomers, the apparent leader wasn’t so easily distracted.

Trace stepped forward, swinging a hammer at the end of one arm.

The lead invader drew a sidearm, and shot once.

Trace fell to the ground, twitching.

“All Security Drones regroup at Hallway 26,” ICO said too calmly. “Repeat: All Drones to Hallway 26. Protect the ship. Protect the crew. Protect the passengers. All Security Drones regroup to Hallway 26…”

Trace’s battery-low signal went off, whatever weapon the invader had used damagign their power core. Part of Trace struggled, begging not to go offline. If they’d been human, maybe they’d have been able to stand up, fuelled by heroic resolve and willpower. Maybe they’d have been able to make a grand last stand against the invading force, distracting them such that the drones could gain some ground against them.

But Trace was a robot. The only thing they could do was watch as the invader disregarded them as a threat before their battery drained completely, and they knew no more.

#robots #scifi #aliens #fiction #original

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