#spider man shadow warrior

[doamarierose-honoka]

Spider-Man is coming back to manga with a brand-new story from Marvel, Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior

Marvel

Marvel has announced they are bringing Spider-Man into a whole new kind of manga world with the original new series, Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior now in the works for a launch later this Fall. Spider-Man is no stranger to manga as Marvel has launched the hero into all kinds of manga worlds. This has even been increasing in the past couple of years as Marvel has kickstarted new partnerships to increase their footing in the manga world with unexpected team ups and new releases expanding the Spider-Verse. But this next new manga is going to be a bit different from the others.

Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior is a brand new original manga story that sees Spider-Man, Miles Morales, and Spider-Gwen travel back to feudal Japan in order to stop Kingpin, who has mysteriously taken control. But upon getting there, a new surprising host bonds with the Venom symbiote to become a whole new kind of Venom. You can check out the first look at Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior (as shared by ScreenRant) below to get the feel for what this is going to look like when it hits this September.

Marvel

What Is Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior?

Written and illustrated by Shogo Aoki, Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior will be making its debut on shelves beginning on September 16th later this year. As for what to expect from this new manga story, it begins to tease itself as such, “Travel to 19th century Japan, where the Kingpin Wilson Fisk has fled America and established himself as Governor of Edo. Peter Parker, Miles Morales, and Ghost-Spider are hot on his trail.” So it seems like it’s going to be a bit of a time travel and Isekai story putting these heroes into a new kind of world.

The synopsis for Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior continues to tease its Venom spin on the story as such, “But the Kingpin has a trick up his sleeve: He’s brought an alien parasite capable of granting extraordinary powers. When a young man named Hyo accidentally bonds with the symbiote and seemingly transforms into the infamous Venom, things go from bad to worse! This new book is perfect for manga and super-hero fans alike!” And if the new series is anything like we have seen in the rest of Spider-Man’s manga releases thus far, it’s going to offer something unique for fans too.

Marvel

Spider-Man Has a Long History With Manga

Spider-Man has had a very long history with the world of manga as Marvel has experimented with all sorts of team ups and collaborations over the years. Not only did Spider-Man star in his own manga release with Spider-Man: The Manga years ago, but Marvel has also seen the character in all sorts of different collaborations over the years. These included crossovers with Attack on Titan, a special one-off with Iron Man written and illustrated by the late Yu-Gi-Oh creator Kazuki Takahashi, and even a series from My Hero Academia: Vigilantes creators Hideyuki Furuhashi and Betten Court on a Spider-Verse spin-off that ended recently.

So this newest manga is going to hit right in that sweet spot as Marvel has been really amping up their reach in this medium. Spider-Man Manga: Shadow Warrior is a great step forward in bridging that gap as Spider-Man just works in a manga context. It’s a character design that perfectly works in any kind of style, and Spider-Man has such a fun power set, allies, and a rogues gallery that manga is just the right way to help explore it all.

[fogaminghub]

🌟 2025 is just around the corner, and with it comes a wave of exciting upcoming video games! From the action-packed Marvel’s Spider-Man 2 to the quirky adventures in Tales of the Shire, our blog post has got you covered. Don’t miss out on these must-play titles! 🎮💥

[fandom]

Ships

Unexpected connections happen in two places: the Ships list and Feeld—a dating app for the curious. On Feeld, finding like-minded people is as fulfilling as finding yourself. In celebration of ships, here are this year’s iconic connections.

Ineffable Husbands +17 Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens

Steddie Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Stranger Things

Destiel Dean Winchester & Castiel, Supernatural

Byler -3 Will Byers & Mike Wheeler, Stranger Things

Wenclair Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair, Wednesday

Bowuigi Bowser & Luigi, the Super Mario Bros. franchise

Huntlow +7 Hunter & Willow Park, The Owl House

Avatrice Ava Silva & Beatrice, Warrior Nun

Hannigram +2 Hannibal Lecter & Will Graham, Hannibal

Buddie -4 Evan Buckley & Edmundo Diaz, 9-1-1

Vashwood Vash the Stampede & Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Trigun Stampede

Zelink +80 Zelda & Link, The Legend of Zelda

Lumity -6 Luz Noceda & Amity Blight, The Owl House

Ghostsoap Simon “Ghost” Riley & John “Soap” MacTavish, the Call of Duty franchise

Blackbonnet -11 Edward Teach/Blackbeard & Stede Bonnet, Our Flag Means Death

Wolfstar +8 Remus Lupin & Sirius Black, the Harry Potter universe

Merthur +12 Merlin & Arthur Pendragon, Merlin

Jegulus +25 James Potter & Regulus Black, the Harry Potter universe

Bumbleby +48 Yang Xiao Long & Blake Belladonna, RWBY

Bakudeku -4 Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Boku no Hero Academia

Dreamling -1 Dream of the Endless & Hob Gadling, The Sandman

Soukoku +60 Nakahara Chuuya & Dazai Osamu, Bungou Stray Dogs

Firstprince Alex Claremont-Diaz & Prince Henry of Wales, Red, White & Royal Blue

Wesper Wylan Van Eck & Jesper Fahey, the Grishaverse

Wangxian -8 Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian, Mo Dao Zu Shi

Satosugu +23 Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru, Jujutsu Kaisen

Imodna +8 Imogen Temult & Laudna, Critical Role

Kanej +44 Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, the Grishaverse

Bubbline Princess Bubblegum & Marceline, Adventure Time

Ladynoir -17 Ladybug & Chat Noir, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Twiyor +6 Loid Forger & Yor Forger, SPY x FAMILY

Loustat +43 Louis de Pointe du Lac & Lestat de Lioncourt, Interview with the Vampire

Zosan Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji, One Piece

Marichat -12 Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Chat Noir, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Serirei +65 Serizawa Katsuya & Reigen Arataka, Mob Psycho 100

Adrienette -21 Adrien Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Chenford +24 Lucy Chen & Tim Bradford, The Rookie

Petrigrof Simon Petrikov & Betty Grof, Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake

Kavetham Kaveh & Alhaitham, Genshin Impact

Griddlehark +54 Gideon Nav & Harrowhark Nonagesimus, The Locked Tomb series

Raeda -13 Raine Whispers & Eda Clawthorne, The Owl House

Tomgreg -19 Tom Wambsgans & Greg Hirsch, Succession

Hanamusa Jessie & Delia Ketchum, the Pokémon franchise

Zolu Roronoa Zoro & Monkey D. Luffy, One Piece

Narumitsu -12 Phoenix Wright & Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney

Sonadow +23 Sonic & Shadow, Sonic the Hedgehog

Ineffable Bureaucracy Archangel Gabriel & Beelzebub, Good Omens

Spirk +9 Spock & James Kirk, Star Trek

Ballister x Ambrosius Ballister Boldheart & Ambrosius Goldenloin, Nimona

Nandermo -42 Nandor the Relentless & Guillermo de la Cruz, What We Do in the Shadows

Jonmartin -15 Jonathan Sims & Martin Blackwood, The Magnus Archives

Punkflower Hobie Brown & Miles Morales, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

AkiAngel Aki Hayakawa & the Angel Devil, Chainsaw Man

Ronance -49 Robin Buckley & Nancy Wheeler, Stranger Things

Superbat -11 Superman & Batman, the DC universe

Shuake Ren Amamiya/Joker & Goro Akechi, Persona 5

Geraskier -48 Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier, The Witcher

Hualian -18 Hua Cheng & Xie Lian, Tian Guan Ci Fu

Sulemio Suletta Mercury & Miorine Rembran, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

Sterek -5 Stiles Stilinski & Derek Hale, Teen Wolf

Gumlee Prince Gumball & Marshall Lee, Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake

Shadowpeach Sun Wukong & the Six-Eared Macaque, Lego Monkie Kid

Drarry -29 Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, the Harry Potter universe

Wilmon Prince Wilhelm & Simon Eriksson, Young Royals

Harringrove -34 Steve Harrington & Billy Hargrove, Stranger Things

Kazurei Suwa Rei & Kurusu Kazuki, Buddy Daddies

Lestappen Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen, Formula 1 drivers

Zukka -5 Zuko & Sokka, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Codywan +8 Commander Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Solangelo -23 Will Solace & Nico di Angelo, the Percy Jackson universe

Catradora Catra & Adora, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Shadowgast -4 Caleb Widogast & Essek Thelyss, Critical Role

Stucky -43 Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes, the Marvel universe

Tarlos -18 TK Strand & Carlos Reyes, 9-1-1: Lone Star

Johnlock +21 John Watson & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock

Sasunaru -24 Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Naruto

Locklyle Anthony Lockwood & Lucy Carlyle, Lockwood & Co.

Lokius Loki Laufeyson & Mobius M. Mobius, the Marvel universe

Supercorp -67 Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Supergirl

Piltover's Finest Caitlyn Kiramman & Vi, Arcane

Helnik Matthias Helvar & Nina Zenik, the Grishaverse

Prohibitedwish Scarab & Prismo, Adventure Time

Klance -12 Keith & Lance, Voltron: Legendary Defender

Reylo Rey & Kylo Ren, the Star Wars universe

Hanazawa Teruki & Kageyama Shigeo, Mob Psycho 100

Cockles -44 Misha Collins & Jensen Ackles, Actors

Percabeth -46 Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, the Percy Jackson universe

Astarion x Tav Astarion & Tav, Baldur's Gate 3

Timkon Tim Drake & Conner Kent, Young Justice

Davekat Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Homestuck

Cynonari Cyno & Tighnari, Genshin Impact

Creek Craig Tucker & Tweek Tweak, South Park

Klapollo Apollo Justice & Klavier Gavin, Ace Attorney

Style Stan Marsh & Kyle Brovlofski, South Park

Korrasami -11 Korra & Asami Sato, The Legend of Korra

Bill x Frank Bill & Frank, The Last of Us

Nick x Charlie -51 Nick Nelson & Charlie Spring, Heartstopper

Dreamnotfound -50 Dreamwastaken & GeorgeNotFound, Streamers

Dinluke -33 Din Djarin & Luke Skywalker, the Star Wars universe

Rhaenicent Rhaenyra Targaryen & Alicent Hightower, House of the Dragon

The number in italics indicates how many spots a ship moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded ships weren’t on the list last year. Explore your desires on Feeld. Within a safer, inclusive space, you can feel free to connect more intimately to yourself and others. Choose from over 20 gender and sexuality options and explore solo, or with a partner. Curious? Download the app today.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel crack headcannons!

im alive!

note: use of “tits” instead of “breasts”, i hate that word yall. 

-You love being mushy with him. Complimenting his eyes, his hands, his voice. He gets all blushy and squeaky and it’s so cute. 

-He activated cuteness aggression which confused him at first but he secretly loves how obsessed you are with him. (he’s never had anyone be so obsessed with him) 

-You both give each other flowers. The first time you gave him his own bouquet he was giggling and kicking his feet in private. 

-You have trouble trying new food, so he will let you try a bit of his meal if he gets something new. That way you don't “waste” (even though he has enough money to buy velaris at this point) money. Even if he insists you don't need to worry about money. 

-You like asking him insane questions. 

“How do you feel about me wearing revealing clothes in public?” 

He shrugged. “I can fight and you look beautiful in anything.”

“If i got a new piercing-“

“My love, it’s your body. But if you pierce your nipples i’m going to have so much fun.”

-You got your nipples pierced. You couldn’t decide on what jewelry to get. So you bought two pairs. One, for the healing process that were barbells with blue gems. 

For after, barbells with an ‘A’ on both ends of the jewelry. That man audibly moaned when he saw that specific piece of jewelry. 

-He has loud sneezes. 

-He’s afraid of spiders. 

-You two 100% gossip. 

-You’ll read smutty novels to each other in funny voices. This is the only way Azriel discovered that he can make an incredible high pitched voice. 

-He gets the zoomies at random times. You know it’s brewing when the shadows start to practically vibrate in the air. 

-If you have your hair up, he or his shadows will play with your baby hairs that escape the hairstyle. 

-Speaking of the shadows, they’ll just sit on your waist like a belt and just be part of whatever outfit you have on. Or a necklace (not in a kinky way you dirty birds) 

((but like, that too))

-Speaking of things being taken as kinky. He stretches you out. You have a disability that worsens when you don't do your daily stretches (sciatica nerve damage gang rise up) so he forces you to do them. 

-As in pins you down and forces your body to stretch out the nerve. 

“It’s almost like you like to be in pain.” He admonishes as he pushed on your glute. 

“I’m just lazy.” You admit. 

He smacks your ass, causing you to yelp. “Well, I don't like seeing my love in pain, so stop being lazy.” 

-He may be a stoic warrior, but he’s also a guy. He loves titties. 

-He’ll burrow into them when he’s upset. 

-When your cycle happens, your tits get sore and swollen. So he’ll massage them, suck on them, anything. 

-You wear lip balm a lot. You just have a thing where a tube needs to be on you at all times. He personally prefers when you wear a balm that’s vanilla or like a baked good. The minty balms he really doesn’t like the taste of.  

-Usually, he is the exact opposite of lazy. However, you’ve turned him into a lazy sunday morning man. Or really, any day he wants to sleep in, he does now. You’re just so warm and sweet and sleepy he can’t resist it! 

-You sprawl out in bed. You starfish over the entire bed if he gets up for the bathroom or water in the middle of the night. To get you back to your side, all he has to do is poke your side and you curl in on yourself. 

He giggles (yes, giggles) every single time. 

-He already is a mischievous man, but with you the silliness hits an all time high. 

-Random ass spankings, he bean dips you, when he works out wearing a shirt, he’ll take the shirt off and throw it at you. So you have a musty sweaty ass shirt coming at you. 

-You always call his shadows “little stinkers” and he loves it. 

-They’ll move things to higher shelves to force you to ask Azriel for help getting them.  

The man loves leaning over you, your sweet ass pressed against him as he reaches. 

-Sometimes, you’ll just stare at him and wonder how this beautiful man is yours. 

But that’s okay, because he stares at you the same way. 

[tiredfox64]

I was thinking how would Bihan react if he was caught staring at the reader a little to long and gets teased by it from the other guys? Imagine how flustered he would be 😁

I Spy

Prior notes: I just thought about Bi-Han looking at me and idk it’s giving alternative looking at me in the corner of my room.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: There’s a spider in my bathroom pls kill it.

You certainly capture the eyes of men. Many different men actually. All kinds of men. The kind, the mean, the strong, the cocky, the calm, and many more. But one man out of the bunch was looking at you for a long time.

Bi-Han thought this visit to the Wu Shi academy would be quick. A quick conversation with Liu Kang that will allow him to be in and out. Of course Liu Kang was nowhere to be seen at first. The only notable person he could see was you. You were in the cooling shade as the wind blew the leaves of the trees which casted pretty shadows all over you.

In that instance he was enchanted by your presence. Your beauty captivated him. It was as if he was looking at a majestic deer calmly move through a mystical forest.

All you were doing was occasionally raking the sand in the zen garden. You were very focused on making the circles clean and precise so you never even knew Bi-Han was looking at you.

There was a perplexed look in his eyes. He was almost observing you. He can’t figure out why he is so drawn in by you. You are doing a menial task. Yet the nature around you was presenting your natural beauty to him with the way the shadows and sunlight danced on your body and the wind glided over your hair.

Bi-Han was so lost in this moment that he forgot that there were others around. He was stuck in a world where it was only you and him. That was until he heard someone speak near his ear.

“What are we looking at?” Asked Johnny

Bi-Han was caught off guard and threw a punch at Johnny’s direction while he luckily avoided this time. He’s not making that mistake twice.

Bi-Han saw that the whole group was near him. Kenshi, Johnny, Kung Lao, and Raiden were staring at him like he was crazy for throwing a punch.

“Nothing. What do you want? Where is Liu Kang?” Bi-Han tried to switch the top immediately but these boys won’t allow him that freedom.

“So you’re not going to acknowledge the fact that you were standing there for a good five minutes.” Kenshi spoke with his usual attitude.

Was Bi-Han really standing there and staring for that long? No, Kenshi has to be messing with him.

“We came over about three minutes in because you would not move. We were even whispering among ourselves yet you didn’t react.” Raiden added on.

Okay so he was just standing there like an idiot. He thought he was there for only a minute how did you manage to make him stay in once place and forget his purpose of being there.

“Well boys, I think I know what’s up with Mr. Grumpypants. He’s crushing hard on our special gardener over there.” Johnny wrapped his arm around Bi-Han which he promptly slapped away.

Like the immature men that Johnny and Kung Lao could be they started letting out a ‘ooo’ like middle school boys would do when they find out their friend has a crush. Bi-Han was shushing them with this somewhat panicky expression. Raiden was trying to hold himself back from chuckling at the fact that this cold-blooded warrior was getting flustered while Kenshi seemed confused by that fact. Kuai Liang and Tomas soon heard the commotion and came over.

“What is the matter, Bi-Han? Did you find Liu Kang yet?” Kuai Liang asked.

“He didn’t find Liu Kang but he found himself a new crush.” Kung Lao made a joke which threw Kuai Liang off. What did he mean by that?

“Are you okay? You seem flushed. Are you sick?” Tomas went to place his hand on Bi-Han’s forehead to check his temperature but he moved away.

Incredible! There is some color on his face. The color of embarrassment. Yes, Bi-Han was blushing at the fact that everyone was teasing him and exposing him. This has never happened before to him so he is unsure of how to solve this.

The only thing that came to mind was use his powers to make everyone back off. In an instance, jagged pieces of ice came out from the ground. They aimed at everyone which made them back up from Bi-Han. They were poking the bear they shouldn’t be shocked that he would pull something like this. Cold vapor was coming off his body due to using his powers and from his frustration.

“You incompetent fools have no respect. Keep your mouths shut!” He barked at them.

The group wasn’t looking at him anymore but past him. He was confused at first before he turned around and saw that you were staring at him with a concerned expression on your face. You were unsure what all the hullabaloo was about and you were now wondering if it was about you since they were all staring at you. You looked at Bi-Han and trying to keep the peace you gave him a wave with this somewhat awkward smile on your face.

Bi-Han had no idea what to do now. A low rumble came from his throat as he thought of what to do. He gave you a halfassed wave before quickly walking off. His head was lowered as he walked off. His brothers quickly left as well to catch up to him. You were left looking at who was still there before asking something.

“Do I need to clean up that ice?”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Liu Kang was looking at Bi-Han strangely. He was wearing his mask for no reason while his brothers didn’t.

He can tell by Bi-Han’s body language that he was upset by something. Not an angry upset but an embarrassed upset. His arms are folded and his head is lowered. Liu Kang looked to Kuai Liang and Tomas for an answer but they didn’t want to say. All they knew was that their eldest brother put his mask on to prevent anyone from seeing that he was blushing.

“I’m guessing something happened before you came to me. You do realize how red the tips of your ears are, right, Bi-Han?” Liu Kang pointed out.

Bi-Han let out a frustrated growl before covering his ears with his hands. The look of shame in his eyes was clear as day to Liu Kang. Still doesn’t answer what happened out there.

Kuai Liang tried his hardest not to laugh while Tomas was gesturing to Liu Kang is he could step out. Liu Kang nodded and Tomas booked it out the room so he could laugh.

“You must cool down, brother. Wouldn’t want your crush to walk in at any moment and see how red you are.” Kuai Liang teased.

“Silence, Kuai Liang!”

After notes: He don’t even have a resting bitch face he got a ‘I’m going to end your bloodline’ face. WHO ARE HIS OPPS BRUH! WHO’S MAKING BLUD THAT MAD! It’s me. I’m his opp. Imma flick his ear now. Adiós!

[bluevaractyl]

Woooo LU update! "Entrance"

Looks like we were right, the dungeon is the same one Twilight chased the Shadow through. Even in this earlier time, it's apparently a ruin. I have lots of questions about the nature and origin of the dungeons in LoZ. Warriors calls them "old tombs," and Legend echoes this with "Hyrule's tombs." Was that the original purpose of most of them? Or are they just referring to the way many dungeons are dark, dank, underground, and/or haunted by undead creatures? Interesting word choice.

I am very curious about what Hyrule is referring to. Is he aware that some of the items he has found belonged to the hero before him (Legend)? Which ones? The handy/power glove? Power bracelet? Red and blue rings? Is the headcanon that Legend made Hyrule's dolls going to be made canon?? (Also I love their expressions, especially Wind's.)

Love the mention of monsters unique to dungeons! I am so excited to see more. Hyrule is absolutely correct, wallmasters are gross and very annoying. The skulltula was very creepy. Good job, Jojo.

Their reactions here are interesting. Legend is unfazed, shield out but holding steady. Wild, on the other hand, is stumbling out of the way with an expression I cannot put words to, but which appears on my face when I find a spider on the ceiling at 2 am. He has not encountered giant man-eating spiders in his travels and it shows. Also, the return of Time's bow! He is a pretty good shot for missing an eye. I wonder if he had to learn to adjust his aim. Shooting down skulltulas in dungeons is probably taking him back to his own adventures. Maybe not so good memories.

Legend's little prank with the scarf is cementing my realization that he and Warriors really do like to mess with each other. It is also making me wonder if monsters are ever going to do the same. @w1lmuttart made an art pointing out how the Links' attire could be used against them. Yikes!

Twilight is very much on Time's mind. He's worried. I like the detail of Wind in that panel too, since Time has been growing closer to him as they've discovered their connection. It's also easy to see the family resemblance in Time and Twilight's expressions and features here. Warriors makes a good call, but Time knows "it's dangerous to go alone." I wonder how they will end up splitting up.

All images from @linkeduniverse "Entrance"

[fullofbees]

My God's Bane (Astarion x F!Tav)

Tav no longer recognizes herself while Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings towards her.

AKA I wrote my own leadup to Astarion's confession scene :3

CW: LOTS of angst, religious conflict/crisis, mentions of past physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Astarion), mild depictions of gore Word Count: 9,437

He liked to think that he had a talent for reading people at this point. Most wear their emotions clearer than they believe. Even when they hide behind a quiet, joyful, or indifferent mask, everyone slips, shows their hand so to speak, and that’s when he strikes. 

However, when it came to the leader of their ragtag band of weirdos, she was easy. She slipped the moment they met, when he cornered her about killing one of those brain creatures outside the nautiloid crash. She all but ran to his supposed rescue, not thinking twice that the man before her could pose harm. It was as simple as breathing back then, to betray that small boundary of trust when he held his blade to her throat. 

Her heart was on her sleeve, and she extended it to every wayward soul they encountered. With remarkable speed, she was able to secure new adventurers for their mission. She made vows to the tieflings and druids alike, intent on restoring order despite the limited time they had. Whether foe or ally, she sought the safety of all involved – such is the way of a valiant paladin. It was an inconvenience, honestly. 

Ever since they arrived at the Shadowlands, though, Tav’s personality changed.  

Their first day in the darkness brought them to battle between the Harpers and their arachnoid escort. The towering bastard had to go and cast Sanctuary constantly, leaving the rest to pick off the weaker cultists until they could find an opening past his defense.  

Tav had swung the final blows, her blade illuminated in a holy light that was nearly blinding against the shadows. The drider fell, and joined his fellow Absolutists as bloody road markers.  

She was an excitable kind of person, cheering and hollering with the smallest of victories, giddy with triumph whenever her enemies fell. Add Karlach into the mix, and Astarion was positive that sleep would evade the camp that night, the two warriors whooping into the night, drunk off wine and adrenaline.  

But, as she had stood over the vanquished drider, Tav was silent. He could not make out the emotion that crossed her face; reverence – or perhaps mourning, as he watched Tav kneel to close each eye the spider possessed.  

Astarion knew he was the only one to witness it. The others were engaged in conversation as the Harpers so graciously invited them to their little hideout, in the form of an abandoned inn. When Tav stood from the ground and turned, she froze upon seeing him standing there, eyes wide with panic as she fumbled for words to say. 

All she managed was a desperate, “Please don’t tell the others.” 

He didn’t understand why, at the time, he had allowed her to place such trust in him.  

The same night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, joking and sharing stories over whatever meal Gale managed to throw together, she stared into the flames until one of their companions pulled her mind back to the present.  

“An actual drider,” marvels Wyll, “It would have been magnificent if it weren’t so grotesque. Wouldn’t you agree, Tav?” 

“Hmm?” She hummed, eyes transfixed on the bowl in her hands. 

“The drider,” Wyll tried again, almost in disbelief that she had not heard him the first time, “What did you make of it?” 

Her spoon circled the bowl for the umpteenth time, the sound immensely grating to Astarion’s sensitive hearing.  

“Him,” she muttered. 

“I’m sorry?” Wyll asked. 

“What did I make of him? He’s a person, not an ‘it’,” she corrected with a huff of offense. “That poor man...” 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to pity the creature,” admonished Shadowheart, “It is only fitting that one be punished for failing their Goddess. Really, we were doing it a favor.” 

There’s an unwon arrogance that Shadowheart tends to mince her words with. Usually, he would find her quips amusing, but he wished she would have read the obvious tension.  

“He’s not a creature!” Tav slammed the bowl into the dirt in front of her. The metallic clang of the spoon against ceramic rang out into the stunned silence of those around the fire. 

��He was hurting! Desperate to be seen after Lolth’s rejection... and all it got him was a tadpole from another cruel Goddess!” Tav’s hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed as her eyes focused once again on the flames, “He didn’t deserve to die. I could have-- I mean, we could have done more!”  

“I do not understand,” said Lae’zel, “Why do you show such sympathies for the weak?” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” chimes in Karlach, and though Astarion assumed she would start on another lecture about friendship and unity, Tav did not let her finish. 

“I’m afraid I lost my appetite. Good night,” she said, her meal abandoned as she stomped off to her tent.  

Karlach sighed, shaking her head at Lae’zel. The githyanki had not moved, still perplexed by the situation around her. An uneasy quietness quickly descended upon the group, broken only by Wyll bidding them goodnight. A chorus of muttered ‘goodnights’ followed as they began to disperse. 

Considering it an outburst of exhaustion, Astarion left Tav to stew in her tent. He wished he hadn’t, for she was no better the next day. 

It was normal for her to seek their thoughts while exploring. She’d ask Karlach or Lae’zel for tips after combat, banter with Gale and Wyll, show Shadowheart every damn “pretty” flower she found, and insisted on directing as many vampire jokes as she could at Astarion. It didn’t matter how dreadfully unfunny they were, she always laughed.  

Adventuring was quiet now, as she ushered them from place to place, battle to battle, without a break. They found various victims of the curse, most a century old, but some new and with unfortunately familiar faces. It did not matter how long the bodies had been there, Tav grieved each one, tears streaming from her face as she read letters of their last words. While she bawled at their corpses, Astarion brooded, wondering when he had started to miss her laughter.  

She was praying more often as well, sequestering herself alone in whatever corner she could find and frantically whispering. Once, when she ceased her incessant prayer, Tav appeared to be locked in some kind of trance. She did not react to sound or touch, the whole of her eyes overtaken by a ghostly, lavender hue. She stayed that way for two hours.  

Everyone saw the tears that streamed from her eyes when her mind had returned from its journey, but she refused to answer their questions.  

Karlach approached him one night, nearly a tenday after Tav’s original outburst, telling him he needed to figure out what was wrong. He had scoffed at the tiefling; after all, it’s not like he cared about whatever mental issues shared rent with her tadpole. Right? 

“She likes you the most, fangs. If there’s anyone she’s willing to open up to, I'm bettin’ it’s you.” 

He laughed then, loud and boisterous, to hide the rising tide of excitement and anxiety that Karlach’s words had caused.  

“Trying to use me to pry into Tav’s life, are we?” He tsk-ed. Though he smiled, his anxiety had given way to anger. It poked and taunted his deepest fear; that he’s only useful when he can be used. It’s so painfully obvious that’s all he’d ever be, that even sweet Karlach knew it.  

But something besides the tadpole lurked around in his mind; why does he feel bad about tricking Tav? That is his whole plan, is it not? Use the strong sword-wielding lady to safely travel back to Baldur’s Gate, she dices this stupid cult and Cazador into pieces, and then he dumps her, finally free from any master’s grip.  

He banished the intruding thought instantly, bottled it as deep as it could go, for the looming answer to his question threatened to make him sick. He is undead, a creature of the night, an external parasite that feeds on Tav at night until he can find someone, something, better. His skin is cold as ice and his heart no longer beats. He has no heart to give; or so he tells himself. 

“You know that’s not the case,” Karlach had chastised, seemingly offended he could suggest such a thing, “We’re all worried. You can pretend all you want, but I know you are too. You can help her, Astarion.” 

Now that was a curious sentiment. ‘Help’ is numerous in its contexts; Cazador certainly considered himself helpful, merciful even, as he watched his new spawn vomit blood and dirt after clawing out of their tombs. The word implies a give and take, and the world is far more eager to collect than it is to provide.  

To put it plainly, he had nothing to offer their melancholic leader; he is nothing and has been for a long time. Still, Karlach had come to him, apparently unaware of his obvious lack. Perhaps he should hear her out. Perhaps she saw something in him.  

“And just how should I ‘help’?” Astarion asked, condescendingly drawling the question out, rolling his eyes for good measure.  

He saw how the edge of Karlach’s lips twitched, how her eyes narrowed, the way her mechanical heart roared to life with a bright spark before settling back into quiet embers. In poetic irony, it seems that he burned her.  

“Hells below, Astarion,” she nearly yelled, exasperated, tired, and practically begging him to cooperate. He doesn’t blame her for the outburst. Without the annoyingly bubbly attitude of Tav, the tension between party members had been amplified and pulled taut. They all may very well snap soon.  

“I’ll see what I can do,” he dismissed her then, attention focused back on the tome he had in his hands. But his mind did not process the words on the page. He reread the same line damn near ten times before he gave up and went to bed instead. 

His rest was anything but; it was fitful and full of sorrow.  

It was times like then when he wished he could slumber like every other living creature. When his victims and fellow spawn would speak of nightmares, they told tales of distorted visions and intense fear. His waking hours were already plagued with such issues, he could easily handle the nightmares. But no, instead he was cursed to revel in his own pain during his meditative rest, reliving and experiencing his own terrifying truths on repeat.  

That night, he tried searching for something he could do for Tav. Something that the others could not; something to prove his value to her. He did find it. It didn’t take him long at all.  

All he had to offer his little troublesome Tav was his body.  

And it broke him.  

He spent that night with the realization that this is who he is and always will be. A body to be used and used and used and used and used and used and used and u s e d....... 

Thankfully, Tav had asked him to stay at camp that morning. Even though he teased her with his usual, “Darling, I thought we had something special,” she could barely manage a smile, and muttered her thanks before flittering about camp in preparation.  

It was probably for the best, knowing how useless he would have been with that morose epiphany swimming in his mind. Though awake, the uneasy feeling from the night did not dissipate. His emotions were all over the place, that much he was sure of, but they had always been identifiable. Agony, desperation, emptiness.  

Now new and uncertain feelings – gods how he detested the word – seized his chest. Images of Tav pestered him the entire day; the bags under her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dying light of her spirit. Karlach was right, he was worried.  

Still, he could not find the source of his worry. He’d spent the last 200 years surrounded by shambling corpses and their victims alike. They slept like dogs, were beaten like beasts, so really, who was he to judge for a bad hair day?  

Astarion saw no use driving himself mad about it, after all, he had always warned her that her heroism couldn’t last forever. He spent that day doing what he does best when he finds himself without her company, distracting himself with enough shit wine and even shittier books. He didn’t think his tolerance would be shit too. 

Words had soon blurred together, and despite the book’s distinct lack of arcane knowledge, the letters seemed to arrange themselves in puzzles. He slammed the tome shut, opting to sit in the privacy of his tent and will away his growing headache. While his thoughts were no less jumbled, the feelings from before were becoming clearer.  

Worry; The presence of the undead made it impossible for him to feed on anyone other than Tav. Even though she always assured him that she did not mind, he felt like he was using her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt bad about being such a devious bastard. 

Rejection; He’d never tell, but the absence of Tav returning his superficial flirtations left him feeling empty. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t him, it isn’t his fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to not have her affection. 

Fear; He would give his body to her, if it would make her happy. Thousands before her had found pleasure in him, it would be easy for him to allow her the same. He wanted to believe that he’d be selfless, place her needs and comfort above his own; but he knew he could not. He is selfish. Could she want a selfish man? 

It dawned on him then, what this cocktail of vulnerability and yearning was. The cause of his worry, the source of his comfort, the reason he felt like an idiot. He lov- 

The party had arrived back at camp, and he had stumbled to his feet to meet them, for how would it look if their charming vampire companion was found sulking and brooding in his tent. Karlach immediately shed her armor, talking about how stuffy it felt to be metal-clad. Gale carried a sack with the night’s dinner ingredients in hand and grumbled about the pain in his knees as he knelt to light the fire. Lae’zel, despite her stoicism, appeared happy, covered head to toe in the blood of the fallen. 

Tav looked no worse than she had for these last few days, and that ought to count for something. He watched as she removed the outer pieces of her armor, wincing when the harsh edges dug into new and old bruises alike. She picked up a rag and a small mirror, wiping away the blood from the cuts on her face.  

The sight of the crimson spilling from her skin reminded him of his hunger. Their quid pro quo arrangement had been forgotten in her despair, and he was desperate at this point for anything she would give him. Blood, sex, shallow praise, whatever she had to offer.  

Oh, right. 

He had yet to offer himself again, so what reason would she have to keep up her end of the deal? 

He downs the last of the wine in his goblet, swallowing the intoxicating substance just as the reality of his situation swallows his hope. With measured steps, he approached her tent, taking quiet yet deep breaths to ease the misery he felt knowing he’ll never be more than this. He opened his mouth to call her name, but Tav released the ties holding back the rainfly of her tent and shut them all out. 

That should have been it, but his drunken mind reminded him of his promise to Karlach, and his predatorial hunger lurched at the idea of another night unsatiated.  

Once the others were asleep, Astarion snuck into her tent, part and parcel to their routine since she first discovered his true nature. It was easier for him when she was asleep, not that the sharp pinch of his fangs left her totally undisturbed; but to approach while she was awake only guaranteed in his mind that he would end up on his back again.  

Tav was facing away from him, lying on her side, a formerly white linen sheet covered her sleeping form. Nothing was amiss as he had stalked closer, brushing the strands of hair away from her neck, his mouth unbelievably dry. He knelt, the perfume of her blood wafting sweetly from beneath her skin, as he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.  

She awoke then, the force of her sitting so abruptly pushed him back and sent him stumbling. He had, thankfully, caught himself with his hand before falling into the dirt. Still, he was equal parts annoyed at dinner being interrupted and worried that he was caught.  

“Hells, Astarion, you scared the shit out of me,” she whispered. 

“And you almost broke my nose,” he chastised; not a total lie, but an exaggerated one, nonetheless.  

Tav rolled her eyes at him before letting herself fall back against her bedroll again, “Oh, you poor thing, want me to kiss it better?” 

At least she appeared to be feeling better, back to the self that loved teasing him.  

“If you’re offering, who am I to say no to the hand that feeds?”   

Upon realizing that he would not be allowed to dine and dash, Astarion straddled her thighs, ready to bargain for what he needed. He let his hand rest on her hip, soothing circles through the fabric of her nightwear.  

“Yea, s’pose you can’t say you won’t bite,” she said through a drowsy laugh. 

He allowed his hand to wander then, down the inside of her thigh, fingers trailing along the seam of her pants, “As if the lady would protest my bites.” 

With a kiss pressed to her lips, Astarion silenced any innuendo or proposition she may have made. He did not want to hear it, could not stand the idea of her confirming all the horrid things he thought about himself.  

This unspoken deal only served to remind him of how temporary freedom would be. At worst, he would return to Cazador, and the bastard would tell him how lucky he should feel, how there were other mortals dying to be in his position. He wished he could tell him that adding an ‘s’ before ‘pawn’ doesn’t make being a puppet any more lucrative.  

She promised that she would not let that happen. She promised to free him from his master’s chains, but what comes after? He would still be bound to the night, doomed to prowl moonlit streets for an eternity. Killing would still be his status quo, whether mammal or mortal, in order to satiate his hunger.  

Would she stay with such a monster? 

Thoughts he did not want to entertain had barged to the forefront of his mind again, and he knew he needed to move this along. At least with sex, he could force those thoughts away, bottle them back up, and allow his body to numb. At least, this way, he survived another day. At least her body is warm. 

At least—anything he can say to himself to justify another night on his back and to ignore the resentment building in his heart. 

Her lips had parted in a moan, and his tongue quickly lay claim to her mouth, as his hand finally cupped her sex. She gasped, and as his mind had started to drift off into the numb void, he had been pulled back by the feeling of her hand pushing against his chest. 

When he separated himself from her body, Astarion wanted to scream, wanted to shake her; why did she insist on taking the lead? It would be easy with him on top; he wouldn’t have to look at her, to feel her weight on top of him. Must she be so difficult? 

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.” 

What-- 

He looked down at her then, saw the flush in her face, felt how her hands fiddled with the ruffled collar of his shirt but harbored no intention to remove the clothing.  

“I’m not really in the right headspace for that,” she explained, “Plus, I can taste the wine on your lips...” 

“Right, well...” He didn’t know what to say.  

Astarion was frozen above her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Awkwardness had settled over them both, each one terrified of scaring the other off should they move or speak. Until, the dots connect in her head and she practically launched herself upright, almost smacking herself into him again. 

“You haven’t fed since we got here, have you? Shit, I’m sorry!” She said as she pulled her hair to the side, exposing the column of her neck.  

Any other time, he might have shoved her away, storming out of her tent as his hunger gave way to the embarrassment of it all, his crumbling ego unable to cope. But as she all but dragged his mouth to her skin, urging him to drink, Astarion was thankful that her care outweighed his own pride. 

His fangs pierced her flesh, and she hissed at the pain, but did not complain further.  

He recalled the conversation they had about what their friends would taste like, debating over who would be sweet and who would be savory. Once he had mused that she would be bland, only if to rile her up, but the depth of her lifeblood had truly surprised him.  

She is a winter’s mulled wine, deceptively simple at first yet brimming with spice as she settles on his tongue. Hints of citrus tease his palate, the last taste of summer’s sweetness yielding to the zest of cinnamon and clove. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving its enjoyer to eagerly await the next mouthful.   

As he drank from her, he had felt the echo of a memory in his chest, of his younger days scribbling away next to a hearth, of a man who made his heart flutter and his skin burn with want. The man’s face remains obscured, buried under years of torment, but the feeling is there; the rush of something new and exciting; the naivety of first love. 

With wild hair and soft eyes that regarded him as if he held the entire world, the elf below him had unearthed a humanity he’d long since forgotten. What a wondrous feeling it was; to release all that had been brimming beneath the surface, to give names to the shadows, to feel again.  

Again, her hand pushed against his chest, weaker than before as she mumbles, “O-Okay, I’m starting to get dizzy.” 

His fangs retreated from her skin, and as his lips captured any wayward drops, he realized he did not wish to completely part in that moment. Gently, he laid her down against her bedroll, back on her side. He situated himself behind her, basking in the newfound heat that flowed through his veins, and allowed his breath to even out. Tav was already fast asleep when he turned, wrapping his arm around her and cuddled her to his chest. 

...  

Astarion had made sure to return to his own tent before dawn broke and if Tav had noticed the vampire snuggling her in the night, he was eternally grateful for her silence on it in the morning. He did not want to hear the insufferable taunts and jokes the others would make if the two of them were discovered together. Gale or Wyll, hells, probably even Karlach, would remind him that it’s only natural for two adults to seek out company between their giggles; as if he’s a little boy who's embarrassed about his crush.  

But that is what he is, isn’t he? He’s tucking tail and scurrying away because he’s afraid of others seeing that he is capable of feeling. Brazen displays of emotion, especially ones of love, are signs of a weakness to be exploited. Everything he had ever loved had been taken from him, had been hurt because of him. He could love her, he wants to love her, but it would just be placing a target on her back. Another one of Cazador’s endless lessons.  

She is safer this way.  

For what it’s worth, Tav did appear livelier that morning, bantering with Shadowheart as the cleric healed their bloodless leader, and it earned him a thankful pat on the back from Karlach. 

“Ah, I love the taste of Lesser Restoration in the morning,” Tav hummed happily, arms raised above her head as she stretched the sleep out of her body. 

“I don’t know why you insist on coming to me,” said Shadowheart, “You’re the one who chose to be a walking blood bank, and I know Paladins can cast Lesser Restoration. Why don’t you heal yourself instead of making it my problem?” 

“Because you’re always so charming,” Tav teased, “How do you expect me to resist?” 

“Kicking and screaming, I hope,” deadpanned the cleric. 

“See what I mean? Our own little ray of sunshine!”  

After breakfast, Tav assembled that day’s crew. The idea of a day of physical labor after last night's mental exhaustion made Astarion less than eager to accept her invitation. Still, he had said yes, and donned his armor as he made a quiet vow to himself.

He will always keep her safe in one way or another.  

The day’s mission had involved infiltrating the House of Healing to find something that could be used on this Art Cullagh fellow. Astarion had accepted, by this point, to not concern himself with the details and just assist Tav with whatever heroics she found herself agreeing to. They would happen with or without him.  

The exterior yielded nothing of value, except one half of a pair of warding rings Tav found on the skeleton of another victim. She was somber as she pocketed the ring and read the lover’s note, but composed herself afterwards, and said a small prayer before pushing forward. He had felt some level of pride and admiration, watching as a new strength kindled inside her. There was inflation to his ego as well, a selfish joy in thinking that his mere cuddles could fix her woes. 

He should have known better. Life had never been kind. 

They had entered the House of Healing through an antechamber that reeked of decay and spoiled blood. Infirmary beds were strewn about, and of the few that weren’t outright destroyed or flipped over, they looked less than pleasing without a mattress to cover the rusted springs. Rotting towels, shattered wash basins, and an unknown film covered the floors. Voices echoed from the main chamber ahead, so each step further in was made cautiously. 

They passed through a door to their right and discovered what used to be a woman as she floated before two of the beds, covered in nurses' attire that clearly didn’t know the definition of sterile. She - no, it - paid them no mind as they had approached, gazing down at the implements and bandages before it as if it couldn’t figure out what to do.  

With her hand on the hilt of her sword, Tav spoke first, “Excuse me, ma’am?” 

“Don’t call the doctor yet!” came the soft plea of the creature, “I’ve got potions, sutures - I know I can do this...” It turned to address their fellow nurse, yet startled when it saw the Paladin, “Oh! You’re a patient. This is the children’s ward – triage is back that way.” 

“I have something else I’d like to ask you,” Tav started, but her words faded off as she looked beyond the nurse in front of her.  

Two bodies laid still on the beds, clearly dead, though it was hard to tell if it was from the Shadow Curse or the nurse’s ‘treatment’. 

In an instant, Tav drew her sword, resting the blade in a tail stance, voice low with anger as she asked, “What are you doing with the dead?” 

The nurse regarded her with confusion as she replied, “Not dead, merely medicated. To ease the pain.”  

Tav raised her sword, now bracing her weight in a plow stance, the tip of her blade dangerously close to the nurse’s abdomen, as she snarled, “I asked you a question, creature! What are you doing with the dead?” 

Astarion had watched Tav face countless foes since their adventure together began. Even with the most wicked, she had never been so blatantly offensive. In hindsight, he realized that all those foes had been alive; fought them she must, but always done so reluctantly, and always ready to spare a life when able. There, in the House of Healing, did he first witness her true devotion as a Doomguide.  

Of course, she had told the group of her deity; was overbearingly eager to share it, in fact. Kelemvor; Judge of the Damned; whose symbol featured a skeletal hand raising balanced scales. Tav wears it on her chest – darkened purple stitched into a solid black surcoat that she dons no matter the armor underneath. She told them the stories of her years as a lone wanderer, proselytizing Kelemvor’s wisdom, performing last rites for the dying, and destroying necromancers.  

She was a protector of the living, and a slayer of the undead. 

The creature did not answer her question, insisting that the patients were sleeping and to be quiet lest they wake. The last words the creature heard were Tav’s whispered, “In Kelemvor’s name,” before the blade was plunged clean through its body. It collapsed to the floor, trying to speak, but the blood pooling in its throat only allowed for senseless gurgling.  

Tav placed her foot on the corpse and pushed it into the heap of flesh as she withdrew her blade. Thick, blackened blood congealed on the metal, and Tav held it in a white-knuckled grip as she stepped over the body and towards the beds. 

She took one glance and immediately turned around, tripping on the creature's body as she rushed out of the vestibule, landing on her hands and knees, as her sword skidded across the floor. She did not rise, instead sinking to her elbows as her hands pulled at her hair to the point that Astarion thought she might rip it out.   

Karlach rushed to her side, trying to ease the Paladin up as hushed sobs echoed off the walls.  

“Hey now, soldier,” said the tiefling, taking hold of Tav’s biceps and urging her to sit up, “Don’t go getting soft on me.” 

Shadowheart bypassed the two and peered into the beds before gasping, “It’s Arabella’s parents.” 

Another choked cry broke out from Tav as she finally sat back on her haunches, rubbing away her tears with a grubby hand, “I fucking hate this place.” 

“We all do,” assured Karlach, “But we gotta keep moving forward; don’t want to have worms forever, do we?” 

“No,” came Tav’s hushed response before she stood to her feet. She picked up her sword from the floor, flicking some of the blood off, “Let’s just get this over with.” 

Malleus Thorm was an abhorrent sight. Deciding to take the lead after Tav’s second outburst, Karlach interrogated the cursed doctor about his peculiar treatment plan. He spoke of Shar, of darkness, of absence. The victim strapped to the table was catatonic from the aimless carving of the nurses’ blades, though he was soon comatose after the doctor’s mechanical claws dug into his eyes. 

Tav was antsy behind her, shifting on her feet, practically chomping at the bit to send the undead man back into oblivion. The battle was difficult, but well won. Tav’s anger and adrenaline combined with Divine Smite proved a lethal combo.  

Shadowheart pulled a lute from the corpse of Malleus and held it out to Tav, “I think you might want this.”  

Tav took the lute, strapped it to her back and made way for the exit. Despite the exhaustion they all felt and the rush of emotions Tav must have experienced, she stayed silent. No cries, no curses, not one tear to be found. Astarion felt that agonizing mix of worry and sorrow creep around him. 

He increased his pace until he was able to fall in line with her, their other party members straggling not far behind.  

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked quietly, still not quite ready for his care to be announced to the world. 

She only nodded. 

...  

If he thought their adventures had been quiet before, they were dead silent now. Every fight with another Thorm family member pushed Tav further into despair. Any attempts by their companions to make her smile or laugh were futile. She walked and fought like a zombie, resulting in her near-death numerous times. Lectures about how she needed to mind herself went in one pointed ear and out the other, apparently.

Her silence was only broken by the fits of sobbing that occurred from her tent each night. If she managed to fall into her meditative state, it would end with her lurching forward, gasping for air as she scrambled off into the corner of camp to empty the contents of her stomach. 

Karlach had to take over as temporary leader, and if she had her way, Tav would’ve stayed behind. Yet, when the Paladin appeared every morning with her armor and sword ready, the tiefling couldn’t find the strength to not let her tag along.  

Astarion also insisted that he be allowed on each mission, even if his skills weren’t useful for their goal. For whatever reason, Tav listened to him more than the others, and would only accept his help when she found herself injured. He had to be there for her, even if watching her suffer wore away at his own sanity. He often found himself looking at the warding ring she had silently given him after their fight with Malleus, and wondered if he would ever hear her laugh again.  

Bones, blood, and viscera decorated the entrance hall. The gore was mundane to him, no more unique than a cobblestone street or tavern lights in the dark. The dank and forebodingness of the crypt did not stop him from admiring its beauty. The ruins must have been a marvelous sight in their heyday, brimming with the Lady of Loss’s worshippers as they sought to drown out their sorrow and begged for her guidance amongst the crystalline decor. 

Their group split to investigate the various rooms that surrounded the concourse, with him following behind Tav as she investigated the nook to the right. Through the towering archway, he saw that it was no more than a chamber, perhaps used as foyer for those who came to grieve the Thorm family. More bones were littered across its floor and piled in its corners. He saw nothing novel, yet Tav stopped stock still.  

“Myrkul...”, she had hissed with disgust, hands clenched into fists that shook in splintering rage. 

Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the triangle of femurs that had been constructed in front of the dilapidated desk, a skull perched neatly in the middle. He joined her at her side, casual when he had faced her and asked carelessly, “Who?” 

Truthfully, the name and symbol were of no interest to him; a forgotten name from a bygone era, and most importantly, a deity that had ignored his prayers. She looked up to him then, and the dusty air must have been getting to him, because he swore her gaze softened when their eyes met. 

“Myrkul Bey al-Kursi, a necromancer and prince who ascended to godhood when Jergal willingly parted with his title,” Gale interrupted just as Tav was about to speak. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard and resisted the urge to pettily stomp his foot against the floor. His look was not enough to kill, but it did have Gale surrendering, hands up in a wordless apology as he had backed away from the two. 

“Correct,” Tav said, breaking the tension she didn’t know had occurred, “He was usurped by Cyric, but the Prince of Lies was defeated by Kelemvor.” 

Astarion was desperate to keep her talking. He’d listen to an entire history lecture if it meant she’d come back to sound mind. Back to him. “What use would a servant of Myrkul have with some Sharran shrine?” 

“It doesn’t matter what ‘use’ they have for it,” admonished Shadowheart, “Lady Shar has decreed that Ketheric must die for his betrayal, and ridding her temple of other disgraces in the process is as much a bonus as it is an honor.” 

Listening to the cleric’s devotion was uninteresting at best, and torturous at worst. He almost pitied the poor girl, blindly following a goddess out of fear of what her memories might hold. 

Astarion had expected Tav to mirror Shadowheart’s enthusiasm, but instead saw her bristle, hands wringing together nervously. She was unrecognizable to him, the proud warrior now hunched in on herself as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Anxiety was radiating off her in waves; she looked like she might vomit. 

His body had moved before he had realized what he was doing, hand reaching for her shoulder to comfort her. When his cool skin had made contact with her chainmail, she recoiled, eyes wide and breath unsteady. Hurt by her reaction, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and gruffly announced that the party should keep moving. 

His patience wore thin as they descended into the abyss below the mausoleum. Gale and Shadowheart both wouldn’t shut up about the various magical auras they were picking up on. Sensing Shar’s presence in the Temple of Shar? Who could have guessed the dark goddess would have been there? Bloody amateurs. 

Tav nearly fell in battle again against the Dark Justiciars that were forever cursed to protect the temple. She was unfocused and reckless, and the shadows had swarmed her after making quick work of the necromancer’s lackeys. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of the devil Raphael had tasked them with killing. There were hundreds of rats, though, and the sight of them left a bad taste in his mouth. 

With some convincing from both he and Gale, Tav finally acquiesced and agreed to return to camp for the evening. Night had developed a new, uncomfortably familar cycle by then, with Tav disappearing to her tent before anyone could say anything to her. She would eat her dinner alone. He would pretend he didn’t hear her crying throughout the night. 

They found Balthazar the next day, and it was the first time he ever saw pure hatred burning behind her eyes. They barely survived, the undead necromancer’s poison draining their strength while his ghouls beat them with decayed teeth and talons. When the bastard finally fell, Tav stood over his corpse, whispered a prayer, and then carved her blade through the fat of his neck. She stabbed her sword repeatedly into his chest, moving down his torso until he was no longer recognizable; just a pile of oozing sinew and flesh. His hulking, sewn-together abomination was the next target of her wrath, and it too was reduced to a pool of guts and blood. 

It was not enough. 

She destroyed the furniture, set the bookshelves ablaze, tore down everything the necromancer kept in his makeshift laboratory. The rest of the party removed themselves from the room, watching silently from the threshold as their near-death leader found the strength to take all of Balthazar’s worldly possessions with her. 

It would have been sexy as hell if it weren’t so concerning. 

She eventually collapsed, falling to her knees, sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang echoing around the room. Silence followed; stares were exchanged between Astarion and his fellow compatriots, each one wordlessly asking the other what the hell had just happened. 

Tired of walking on eggshells, of not doing something, Astarion walked over to Tav and kneeled in front of her. She didn’t notice him at first, eyes shut tight and chest heaving with labored breaths. He reached out again, placing his hand on her knee. 

She was startled, but didn’t move away like before. Instead, her bloodied hand covered his own, fingers tracing over his knuckles, inadvertently smearing the crimson against his pale skin. When he suggested they retire to camp early, she finally, finally, met his gaze. Glimmering violet swirled in her irises, no doubt the remnants of whatever magic she called on Kelemvor for. It faded away, leaving him with the woman of his adoration, looking broken and lost. 

Clinging to his armor, she staggered to her feet, yet nearly toppled again when she went to pick up her sword. It was instinct really, for him to grab her waist and to keep her upright. He certainly had held her hips in more lascivious situations, but somehow he felt more naked that time. 

Vulnerable. 

He doesn’t think he can keep this a secret any longer. 

… 

This last tenday has been punishing, and Astarion carries its weight with him as he searches the encampment for his wayward paramour. 

He finds her on the staggered rock where they helped Halsin rescue Thaniel, staring out into the darkness. Her posture is relaxed as she leans back on her arms, legs dangling off the edge where the water beats on the stone below. 

The silt crunches softly beneath his boots, and he knows she has heard him approach when her ear twitches. He settles himself beside her, brushing off any stray granules from his armor with a huff of disgust. She giggles. 

It must look comical, how quickly his head snaps up at the sound, searching her face for signs of madness. After how despondent she’s been, he expects to find a vessel, a hollow being with the residue of what was a soul, begging to be let go. 

Instead, he finds her kind smile, as she now swipes away the remaining dirt from his calf, “Not a fan of sand, I take it?” 

For all his prose, there is no poetry, no song, no prayer that could mimic the joy he feels when she teases him. He’s been drowning, his mood anchored to hers, and now she has yanked him from the abyss once again. Is this the feeling all those bards crooned about? That every two-bit novelist dreamed of capturing? 

He had long given up on such fantasies, convinced himself that the very notion of love made him sick. 

Love. 

There’s no use pretending anymore. It is love that he feels for Tav. It’s why he mopes at the end of the night if she dares to speak to him last; perhaps the tad murderous feeling he gets when he sees her acting too chummy with the wizard. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has his back, the safety of her sword shielding him from attack, the promises of freedom sleepily whispered between lips in the night. She is the first breath taken when he surfaces. The sun pales in comparison to the warmth in her touch, though she is just as apt to kiss his cheeks. 

She is back and gods, how he missed her. 

Gods, how he loves her. 

“No, I don’t,” he responds in his bantering tone, “It’s rough... irritating... and it gets bloody everywhere.” 

She hums in agreement, gaze falling to the ground before returning to the river. Silence befalls them again, and he finds himself clamoring for words. He wants to confess his love, sing her praises, ask her what the hell is wrong with her. Anything to fill the silence, he refuses to live in the saturnine hellscape that has been the last week any longer. 

“Astarion,” she beats him to it, “I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I put everyone at risk and going forward I’ll be sure to keep everything in check. Can’t have everyone dying because of incompetency.” 

A bit too diplomatic for his liking, and her laughter is much too forced. He’ll need to teach her some proper acting; it’s a miracle she’s survived as long as she has with that disaster of a performance. Aren’t paladins supposed to be charismatic, or is it the weapon that does most of the talking? 

“Oh, you were in a bad mood? I hardly noticed,” he states with all the indifference he can muster. 

She leans into him to playfully jab her elbow into his side, muttering expletives in an elven dialect he hasn’t heard in ages. 

“Seriously, I’m sorry if I made you worry.” 

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he rushes out, hand idly scratching the back of his neck. 

The tension returns, though not as overbearing as before, as questions remain unasked and feelings unshared. It’s a bitter push, as neither is used to talking about their depths, and he doesn’t want to pry; yet a sweet pull, as he remains at her side, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate. 

“It’s just...” She begins, and though she faces forward, he catches her sneaking looks at him in her peripheral, “There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.” 

If he had any blood in his body, he’s sure it’d be racing, his heart thumping wildly in tandem. He thinks she’s ready to talk, and that is half the issue. He thinks, but he doesn’t know; it terrifies and thrills him all the same. He wants to know her – aches for it, if he’s being honest. 

But he is terrified, so sure that he’s going to fuck up and ruin the one good thing he’s had in two hundred years. If she rejects him now, shuts him out for good, he’s not sure he can take it. 

This was supposed to be easy; she was supposed to be easy. 

“It doesn’t matter where you start, I’ll be here for the end.” Shit, shit, SHIT. 

“Astarion,” she gasps, hand over her heart, his name melting into a laugh, “That was actually smooth.” 

He tsks, “I take offense to that. I’ve always been smooth, you’re just too brutish to notice.” 

She laughs again, shaking her head as an enamored smile graces her lips. Her hand brushes stray locks of hair behind her pointed ear and even in the dim glow of the inn’s spell, he can see a blush staining her cheeks. 

But then, she sighs, slow and tired as her fingers soothe circles into her temples, “Can you keep a secret for me?” 

It’s what he’s been pining for, offered on a silver platter, and how could he not say yes. 

He raises his hand to his chest, drawing an ‘x’ over his armor, “Cross my heart and hope to—uh, well, you know.” 

Another chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her position, angling herself towards him. 

She swallows thickly before continuing, “Well, I uh—I talked to Kelemvor.” 

“Is that not par for the course for you Doomguides?” He asks incredulously, eyebrow raised and head tilting as he chuckles. 

This time, she does not grant him a smile or a laugh, focused on picking at her cuticles and the dirt under her nails. 

“I haven’t spoken to him since the nautiloid, I figured the tadpole was interfering,” she says hushed, shame and guilt on the edges of her voice. “I was preparing myself for the worst, but what I got was an impossibility.” 

What kind of cryptic bullsh-- She’s been hanging around Withers too much. 

Hundreds of possibilities race through his mind. What he knows of Kelemvor is only from what she has shared; while he did not seem to be a vengeful god, they already have one person burdened with a suicide mission. He could live without the blabbersome wizard, but her? 

He should have known the universe would only offer him misery, to dangle a sweet treat before him and rip it all away before he had the chance to savor it. 

“Did he ask you to sacrifice yourself?” He wants to hear it from her, needs to hear her say those dreaded words so he can make peace before she is nothing more than bones and fading memories. 

Her eyes find his, inflamed with tears she no longer has the strength to shed, “I wish he did.” 

The pain, the anger, the grief of the last few days resurfaces in her voice, that flare of purple sparking in her irises. Astarion does not often find himself shocked, but the callous and tempestuous storm raging beneath her skin leaves him speechless. Instincts tell him he is witnessing only a fraction of her fury. 

Then it ebbs, retreating like the tide, as she takes a deep breath to steady herself. 

“I’ve been having doubts, about my purpose, about this path I chose. I expected Kelemvor to berate me for lacking faith.” 

Her hands go back to tearing at her cuticles. 

“He by no means praised me, but he wasn’t furious, either. He didn’t seem like himself... He didn’t even look like himself. It was as if his passion was gone. I asked him what I should do, and he told me that only I can determine my future.” 

“So? What’s wrong with that?” He was genuinely confused by her demeanor. Self-determination, autonomy, freedom; all the things she promised to help him find and keep, yet she fears them for herself. 

“Kelemvor has been a part of my life since I was a teenager, I’ve devoted myself to him for the better part of two centuries. I don’t-- I don’t know who I am without him.” 

A kindred spirit. 

She clenches her jaw, letting out a frustrated huff, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay a Doomguide to a god who abandoned his own principles!” 

He knows she is bleeding from her nail beds, the lovely scent of spiced wine in the air.  

“I took an oath of devotion, to be honorable, compassionate, and honest. I do not fear death of myself nor my loved ones, for death is not something to be afraid of. It is not something one must seek, but it is what one should embrace should it find you,” She explains, “For the last two hundred and fifty-six years, Kelemvor would remind me of these tenets, and commend me for every valiant foe I slaughtered in their image.” 

As sweet as the fragrance is, he takes her hands in his; they have seen and caused enough damage for the time being. 

“And Kelemvor just... doesn’t care anymore. Every time we saw some poor undead creature cursed by Shar, I was reminded of how he dismissed me, like I was a fool for ever following him in the first place. I was his valiant hero, one his most beloved Paladins, and now what? I’m nothing.” 

“You are not nothing,” he replies in an instant, “You are everything. You don't need Kelemvor to be honorable or compassionate, because you already are those things. He was lucky to have someone as devoted as you, but if he wants to toss you aside, then good riddance; it’s his loss, and everyone else’s gain.” 

Crimson floods her cheeks again, as she stares at him dumbfounded. He fidgets in the momentary silence, the feeling of actually sharing one's feeling still mildly uncomfortable. But then it dissipates, because she smiles at him and brings their clasped hands to rest over her heart. Its beat is comforting. 

“Thanks, Astarion. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few weeks.”  

“Someone had to keep you alive. I know I said you would make a pretty corpse, but that doesn’t mean I’m eager to see it, darling.” 

“I’m sure Shadowheart would let you have a nibble if I passed,” she says with a laugh. 

“Perhaps, but I don’t think she could compare.” 

The steady rhythm of her heart increases under his hands. She adjusts herself again, scooting closer to him so that she can lean her head against his shoulder. Her eyes close as she relaxes into him, and he feels so relieved at knowing her touch could be so intimate yet still so gentle. 

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Tav,” He says, his thumb softly tracing along her knuckles, “Why were you having doubts in the first place?” 

“Oh! Um...” She says, head lifting from his shoulder, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t you dare hold out on me now,” He pleads as he slings his arm across her back, hand resting on her hip and pulling her in close so he can whisper, “Especially when it comes to gossip!”  

Sagging against his side, she groans out, “You are the wooooorst.” 

He raises his hand to his face, making a dramatic show of clearing his throat before uttering a very sickly sweet, “Please?” 

“Okay, fine,” she huffs before grumbling out something unintelligible. 

“What was that dear? No one likes a mumbler.” 

“Because of you! Because... I like you,” She says, carding her hand through her hair; her walls tumbling and every emotion she’s shouldered alone spilling forth in a maddened haze. 

“I’ve seen hundreds of undead, most of whom I gladly sent back to their graves. They were merely the husks of the people they once were. Any soul left in them was but a dying echo as they pleaded for their suffering to end. I thought I was helping,” she says, voice shaking, “But what if I ended the life of someone who just wanted-- no needed-- a second chance? Was I an arbiter of divine justice, or just some glorified executioner? I started to question everything when we met.” 

His mind is a whirlwind, thoughts simultaneously speeding yet slow. The half of him that yearns to be known, to be loved, is battling against his ever-present fear that he is not worthy of such. It’s a terrifying concoction, one that has him questioning just how accurate Tav’s description of the undead is. He has no idea who Astarion is; he knows who the elven magistrate once was, but who is Astarion the spawn, besides Cazador’s infernal expectations? 

“By no means am I saying that you haven’t suffered, but you are not some hollow corpse, Astarion. Despite everything that’s happened, and everything that has yet to come, you have grown in unprecedented ways. You’ve broken a mold, defied all odds. You’re simply breathtaking...” 

He is, isn’t he? No one has given him enough credit; no one has truly recognized the pure shit he has survived through. No one has offered him the chance or the choice to be better. He’s tired of the untrusting sideways glances, the disgusting feeling of some stranger’s eye roaming his figure. He’s always been expected to fall in line, and today he makes the promise to finally live for himself. 

“When this is all over, I want to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.” 

She looks at him with reverence, like he can pluck the stars from the night sky. He has seen this look before, when she would talk about Kelemvor, and he swears his undead heart nearly beats under her adoring gaze. He has no army to command, cannot turn into mist nor bat; he is practically powerless, and yet she wants him anyway. She believes in him, even though he can’t trust himself. Where he sees nothing, she has found something worth abandoning her god for.  

“I don’t think I’ve heard you this quiet before... are you alright?” 

He cannot find the words necessary to explain his delight. Even if he did, he doubts he’d still even be able to form them, arrange them into proper sentences. The truth has rendered him speechless.  

It doesn’t erase the fact that she sounds hurt, scared even, at the prospect that his silence means rejection. He recognizes the feeling all too well, and if she can overcome its pain to tell him the truth, then dammit, he can do the same. Perhaps he will forever roam darkened streets, but that doesn’t mean all of him must remain in the shadows. He must be honest, expose his own secrets to the proverbial light, and allow her the same choice. 

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just... feel awful.” 

He hopes she chooses him all the same. 

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan-” 

[sandiavolo]

As the Ash Cloud Passes Over Ch. 14 🕷️🔥

A mere spark emerging from the sea of fire, dancing through the darkness as light that was needed. The great flames guided his birth, burning into the skin of his heart, coating it gray. 

A lost soul, now found by those with bloodstained hands. Yet Spider had been welcomed into the only kindness his life has ever seen. From the depths of the shadows, Spider has become a warrior of the Txepìva clan, and now, his calling is here.

As a human, Spider was weak. But as Ash Na’vi, Trr’ong was capable of things far beyond the comprehension of others. Without one or the other, he is nothing. 

It is time he reminded himself of which one he was.

.

...but even a wounded creature conceals its claws in its desires to live, until it can strike. Always be prepared...

He cried out, in shock and in pain. The front kick—his arms blocking an instant too late—sent him flying back to the edge of the circle. He managed to flip backwards to catch himself, but nearly caved in under the jolt of pain that sent shockwaves from the bruise on his lower abdomen, purple skin muddled by bright orange and gray.

DRIP-DRIP

Blood dropped from the injury for a moment, he stopped. His eyes were wide and staring—two brown, reddish holes—studying his brother with a new wariness in the dull glow of the morning sea. 

Ch. 14 of the Ash!Na'vi Spider AU takes place the morning after the assault on Awa'atlu. With hundreds of Metk'ayina recovering from the dreaded attack of their mortal enemies, the Txepìva Clan, two particular Omaticayan teens are in the greatest race of their lives, hoping to reach their human-turned-Ash-Na'vi friend before he dissappears from their lives, again.

Kiri and Lo'ak already knew it was never going to be easy to find Spider/Trr'ong. They just didn't think it came with meeting an intense, semi-psychopathic Na'vi with a bit of anger issues, a man coated with enough scars to last at least six lifetimes, and a woman who could melt skin with her gaze alone.

Across the way, Trr'ong is dealing with his own inner turmoil, but...his family of daunting, ashen-skinned Na'vi is with him. He can't leave them, he doesn't want to leave them. When it becomes too much he finds solace in the only comfort that he's ever found...even when it comes at a price.

In other words, my apology after literal 2-month hiatus 😅 I love you guys for all you have done for me, it means so much that you might even bother to read this. But this story is truly a blessing to me, and I only hope you guys enjoy it as I do.

Enjoy! 💙

P.S. Door is still open to any questions, theories, or comments, especially cause I wanna help you guys enjoy it as much as possible

[tallulah477]

Pretty, Pretty Panties

Kinkmas Day 3: Lingerie/Stockings

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Grinding (cause I can’t think of a better word for this?), Size Difference

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I was trying to see if there was a specific word for this kind of sex act and Google decided to bring me hurtling back into the world of Urban Dictionary and y’all . . . Urban Dictionary is WILD

A/N 2: I have exactly zero other prompts prepped after this one so this is going to be exactly like Kinktober lmao

Summary: Lo’ak has always been intrigued by human items, but your panties may just be his favorite of them all.

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Tewng - Loincloth

Yawne - Beloved

Lo’ak’s always been intrigued by human items.

It’s only natural - his father was a human, long before Eywa granted him a new life permanently in the body of his Avatar. He, himself, is undeniably part human. The hair on his brow bones and extra finger on both of his hands are features that can only ever come from one place, telling the story of his unique family lineage and the source of his low self-esteem during his teenage years. 

He’s since grown out of the self-hatred his different traits brought upon him, learning to accept who he is and be proud of his differences despite where they come from. Besides, not all humans are bad. His grandmother had told them once that the humans that stayed behind on Pandora after the first war were all part Na’vi - not in looks, of course, but in soul. They are the ones who fought for peace, who heard the call of Eywa, even with their tiny, round tawtute ears, and earned their place amongst The People despite looking like the enemy. 

His father was one of them, a long time ago, and he became Toruk Makto with his hairy eyebrows and extra fingered hands. It used to be suffocating, to be drowning under the shadow of such a successful man, always feeling like a disappointment, a failure, and never knowing if he was ever going to be half the man his father is. But things are different now. Lo’ak is older and wiser, and he can proudly say he feels honored to share in those similarities with such a great man. 

Human DNA is in his veins, their technology now a staple in the Omatikaya Clan, introduced at the insistence of his father. Throat comms wrap around the necks of every hunter and warrior, tablets are used to help keep track and categorize supplies of both the clan’s reserves as well as the outpost’s inventory. Every warrior must go through vigorous gun training, learning how to handle the weapon, how to shoot and reload with military precision. The bad humans are gone now, with no sight of ever looking like they’re going to return, but the Olo’eyktan does not take chances, and he will not have his family run out of their home ever again. 

Lo’ak knows it all, his long blue fingers fiddling with any piece of technology confidently. But it’s not just technology he’s interested in. He’s tried clothes before, stealing the largest t-shirt he could find from one of the science guys just to try it. It fit, but just barely, the material stretching across his lean shoulders a little too tightly and feeling way too constricting for his own taste, the bottom hem stopping about halfway down his torso. You laughed when you saw it, tears filling your eyes as you pointed at his midriff just barely able to gasp out the words ‘crop top’ through your full bodied laughter.

The shirt didn’t work for him, he was okay with that. He was curious, he tried, he learned - and that was that. He never really thought he would want to go around wearing tawtute clothing even if they would have fit him right.

You, on the other hand . . .

. . . well, those panties fit you perfectly.

It’s not like humans go out in their underwear, and Spider is the only human bold enough to regularly walk around in a tewng, so Lo’ak only finds out exactly what’s underneath those annoying layers of tawtute clothing when the two of you start fucking around. The chest covering, a ‘bra’ you called it, is completely unnecessary. There’s no need to cover up as much as humans do, and to hide such perfect tits in an uncomfortable wired cradle is a torture that he will never understand why someone would put themselves through, and, frankly, it’s a slight against Eywa to cover up such gifts. 

The panties though? Yeah, they can stay. They look so much like a tewng, covering your most intimate parts like a privacy cover, only missing the front flap to make them identical in look. You have different ones - different colors, different textures, and different styles that show various levels of undress for your perfect ass. 

Lo’ak loves them all, but currently, the one’s he’s fucking are his favorite. 

It’s a tiny thing, like you, light pink with a cute little bow in the front, and the soft material feels like heaven on his cock as he glides through your wet folds. 

You look so good underneath him, hair splayed out like a halo on your pillow as you gasp and whine every time the head of his cock slides over your clit, tiny hands fisting into the sheets for support as his own hands push your knees back against your chest to keep you spread open. 

You’re still wearing your panties, and a part of him wants to growl in frustration and rip the delicate material from your body for not being able to have an unobscured visual of your puffy pussy. But you’re so wet, so so wet that the panties have all but become transparent with your slick, making them sticky and see through enough that he can see both the outline of your labia and his length as he rubs against you underneath it. 

He shivers as he thrusts faster, the wetness of your arousal making the slip across your swollen clit all the more easy, and a growled moan escapes him as the wet sounds your pussy makes at the increased pace invade his ears. The tip of his cock is nudging against the wet fabric with each pass, the large bulge pushing the material away from your body with each thrust just from the sheer size of him. The underside of your panties is dragging against the length of his cock, working in unison with your silky pussy against the underside to tease him into insanity. 

Your whines get louder, hips twisting in response to the never ending stimulation on the sensitive bundle of nerves, dripping hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. “Lo’ak, please,” 

He hums at the sound of his name, his name, moaned in that beautiful voice of yours, eyes flicking up from the obscene view of where your bodies are meeting to your face. “Yes, yawne? What can I do for you?”

“P-please, fuck me,” You beg. Your legs are trembling in his hold, desperate to kick out and wrap around his hips to try and pull him in. “Please,”

“Hm,” He grins, sharp canines on display, glittering in the fluorescent lighting of your bedroom. “Does my pretty girl feel empty? Need some big Na’vi cock to fill you up?”

You nod, frantically, heat pooling in your cheeks as the coil in your belly tightens at the thought of his cock splitting you open. You want it so badly, want to feel his length push into you, want to experience it as it keeps pushing, filling you up more and more and feeling like it might never stop. You want to see that bulge currently working underneath the cover of your sticky panties in your stomach instead - want to watch it disappear as he pulls out only to reappear again when he thrusts back in, deeper and deeper as he fucks your cunt so good in a way you know only he ever could. 

He wants that too, wants to feel what your gummy walls feel like wrapped around his cock. He knows the sight would just about kill him, to see your soaking hole stretch to its limits trying to take a cock that’s way too big for you. How suffocatingly tight you would feel, to finally be inside you (or at least as much inside as he can fit).  

He can’t help it, he just wants to see what it looks like, and he stops the tortuous drag of his cock along your clit to slide down the length of your pussy. One of his hands let go of your thigh to pull your panties to the side, mouth watering at the sight of your soaked core and puffy clit now completely visible to his hungry gaze. His breathing is shaky when he presses the tip of his cock against your tight entrance, the head rubbing gently at the pulsing hole as you mewl underneath him.

“Lo,” You moan, back arching as you try to push your hips down further against him. “More,”

“More, huh?” Lo’ak groans, pressing just a little bit harder against you and watching as your entrance gives under the pressure, trying to stretch around him and welcome him in. “This slutty little pussy wants more? So greedy,”

Your wide eyes glisten with unshed tears, red rimmed and watery from the way he’s teasing you. He won’t push in, won’t give you anything more than the small presses of pressure against your sopping hole, just enough to get you to start to stretch around the tip only to snap back when the pressure releases. “Lo’ak, please!” 

His fangs dig into his bottom lip, a soft growl echoing through the room as he steels himself to be strong. You’re not ready, he’s too big and he doesn’t want to hurt you. You gasp when he pushes against your entrance again, cock slipping against your wetness and running up your slit and across your clit roughly making you jump. 

Lo’ak releases his hold on your panties, letting the soaked garment snap back in place over your cunt and his heated length. 

“Can’t,” He grunts, once again beginning the agonizing stimulation of him sliding against your pussy. The soaked squelching sounds as his cock glides against your clit are obscene and wonderful, and your responding moans and whines sound even better as his ears flick to catch the sound. “Wanna fuck your pretty, pretty panties.”

Your hands latch onto Lo’ak’s wrists, nails digging into his skin as the coil in your belly tightens up more. The bite from your nails only intensifies the feeling, and Lo’ak can feel his own orgasm barreling towards him, and fuck, only you can make him feel like this without any penetration at all. 

It’s all wet in your pretty panties, all wet and gooey, and your arousal soaks his cock so good as he rocks against your soft folds. The fabric of the panties are rubbing against the head of his cock with each thrust, the added sensation only adding to the intensity. And when you cum, back arched and whimpering his name as he slides against your clit over and over and over again, dripping hole clenching around nothing as your body shakes with pleasure, the sight sends him over the edge, too. 

His orgasm hits him hard, ropes of pearly release painting your sensitive pussy and the inside of your pretty pink panties as he moans. Slowly, he pulls his cock out from underneath the fabric, letting the panties press back in place over your cunt with the sticky mess he left behind between you and the ruined material. 

And you look so beautiful like that, so sexy as you lie there, panting and looking like you just got fucked within an inch of your life despite the fact that you didn’t even take his tip, let alone his entire cock. The pink panties are pretty, and you wear them so well. 

But now he can’t help but wonder if you maybe have a pair in blue too.

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow

[sunofpandora]

𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓾s

Part 2.

Spider is 19, Y/n and Lo’ak are 18, Neteyam is 19, Kiri is 19, Tuk is still 7-8.

‘Kxa’ran’ is a random na’vi name I made up. He is 18.

Disclaimers:

Mentions of uncomfortableness, trying to steal neteyams girl, lo’ak and spider being the y/n protector squad once again, Jake giving fatherly advice, Lo’ak swinging (it's called a punch, bitch) Neteyam and Y/n riding off into the sunset 💙👏😫  

Not rlly smut but gets a lil steamy at the end.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

Y/n was a shadow.

She hid herself within the corridors of a raincloud, gentle touches of droplets caressing her skin.

She hides in the whispers, gently singing through the flowers that stitched up the bark of a tree.

Her vision warped into a blur of sounds and colors. I suppose that's why she yearned for nightfall.

On occasion, the sun looms over us like a scolding parent. Fervid gazes and persecuting streaks of heat. A torrid spotlight refusing surrender. 

But oh, how she loved the night…

A veil of sounds, shapes, sporadically neon shaded by the incandescent bioluminescence of Pandora. 

Secrets and stories scattered among a sea of stars. The moon, a searchlight for souls. 

Alluring sirens of the dusk, dragging us to delirium.

If dark, if dreary, if dangerous, if endlessly indefinite, why so amorous?

She spoke to the stars, stole secrets from the sky, and wore moonlight as if a veil.

Sobs and sorrows for the forgotten stories. Requiems for rain clouds and silent storms.

Perhaps that's why she loved the night.

When the world became a shadow, she didn't feel so alone…

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

Gathering in groups was a normality for the omaticaya.

Today, a group of na’vi was sent to forage herbs, pick fruit, wash away the dirt and grime embedded over time in things like bowls and objects for eating.

They left high camp a bit after morning, departing themselves from the clan’s rocky stronghold and descending below to the jungle.

Y/n sat perched under a tree, 

She gently traced her fingertips up the lines of a small white flower, curiosity and soft wonder embedded within the universe of her eyes.

Observation is a powerful thing. Hearing, sensing, seeing things past others grasp of understanding.

It's a binding freedom 

“Y/n?”

Shaken from her fortress of solitude, Y/n is met with another shadow.

This one looms. It stalks over what little light Y/n allowed in her small dwelling of dusk within the shade of the tree.

It's raining, but it's not the kind that nurtures.

Plants fall to their knees under the man’s thunder of a laugh, mercilessly triumphant, yet accompanied by no accomplishment. 

Kxa’ran.

Y/n peers up in recognition.

Kxa’nan earned himself a place in the flock of warriors Jake trained, Neteyam included. Neteyam and him were commoners of the same stability. Both warriors, neck and neck. Where the Golden Child stood, Kxa’nan rising behind him. One compared to the other. The silent rivalry of two warriors. 

Kxa’nan was a shadow. Not a shadow like Y/n. He was a void, it repels vulnerability and authenticity. 

Kxa’nan’s movements were rehearsed, not-so subtly flexing himself for Y/n's uncomfortable gaze.

You hate it when he flirts with you because he flirts with everyone. It's a cruel joke, really. Disguising something as binding as affection, to cradle someone's heart within the palms of your hands, to build it a home out of glass and shatter it.

“Kxa’nan.”

You greet politely.

You didn't like him. But you weren't an asshole.

He laughs.

What was even funny?

“Whatcha doing here all alone, huh? I'd thought you'd be with your little friends?”

You assume he's talking about Spider and Lo’ak.

Y/n shrugs, avoiding eye contact as best as one can. Trying to focus on the intertwining pattern within the sky, the dim golden halo that laid itself on the tree, leaking through the canopy-quilted and stitched with shades of green.

Kxa’nan dips his gaze down to Y/n's hands. Nimble, soft things. Drawing lines of tranquility in their wake.

His touch invades streaks of silent panic through your body when he reaches down to touch your hands, and the flower cradled within.

“Is that a flower? It's very beautiful..where did you find it?”

His voice is 

You felt exposed. 

Choppy, unfinished breaths tumbling from your lips.

His mere presence overbeared you, yet, Kxa'nan was nothing but a hollow shell.

His figure was made of pesky shadows and illusions of whispers that taunted you, like the laugh of a viperwolf.

He was a thief of trust.

He saw something, an interchangeable force the at spread like the roots to each person, tying us to this shape of vulnerability that appeared as a plaything that held no value to him.

Trust, to him, was a game. A continuance of an arousing match of case and capture, where you find yourself caged.

It's like a scythe when it hits, I panic.

Jake calls it anxiety.

Jake dragged his knowledge of it with him when he came to Pandora.

Jake taught you how to breathe. 

Funny enough from the man that once needed a mask. 

Taught you how to count your breaths from 10 to 1. How to count the leaves on a branch and wait for your chest to not feel so instantaneously heavy.

For a moment the stars fall. The shadow that once deemed itself an attendant of comfort is now a shallow pool of a storm. The ground feels cold, heat rushes to your wrists.

The words bombard your brain.

Leave me alone.

Leave me alo-

“Hey! Back off. I thought I told you not to bother her.”

A familiar five fingered hand finds its home onto Kxa’nan’s shoulder, yanking him back and standing in front of you. 

A tall na’vi with the sides of his head shaved and lazily tied off braids barricades you.

“Can you not fucking count? The 8th time this week I've found you bothering her. Don't you have something better to do?”

Lo’am shoved the boy backwards, his voice a low hiss of annoyance.

Lo’ak was an anarchist of his own recklessness. His gaze grazed with fire unapologetically unable to sit still. 

Sometimes the smoke and ash becomes a haze of intangible adrenaline. preservations for one’s safety wither away under the charred sky. Lo’ak’s anger was a shallow thing, much like his mother.

That's where people fail to truly see, Lo’ak

He was just as protective as Neteyam, if not more. Lo’ak and Neteyam were simply two sides of one stick, one sharp, one blunt. One can be applied as a knife, the other in aid as a crutch or to lean on.

Kxa’nan scoffed.

“I can't count? Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Kxa’nan taunted Lo’ak by jabbing at his “demon blood hands”.

A smaller, pale figure appeared next to you, grabbing your arm, pulling me to your feet, 

In the unwelcoming sequence of three na’vi, spider remains unwavering. 

His gaze stern, annoyed.

“Get lost, idiot.”

Spider glares.

Your wrists don't feel so hot. The ground doesn't sink, the shadows aren't so loud.

Always count on Lo’ak and Spider. As stupid as the two can be.

They were your boys. Your brothers. A type of love that was stitched together out of mismatched pieces.

They fit if you place them in the right position.

“Touch her again and i’ll punch your ass so far into the future you’ll meet the next generation.”

Lo’ak stands, fangs bared, chest almost touching.

Kxa’nan laughs. 

It's thin

it's fake

it's forced.

“Y/n, yawne, did you forget to leash your companions before leaving?”

He smirks at you, and you facepalm at the storm approacching

There's a silence. Worth 6 beats.

“The fuck did he just say?”

Lo’am rhetorically asks the jungle air, before turning to spider.

“Spider. What did he just say?”

“I think he called us animals, Lo’ak.”

“Should we let that slide?”

“Me personally? I would never.”

Spider sighs disapprovingly. Like a parent gently urging a child to make the right decision, clean up their act.

That's the beauty of Lo’ak and spider. 

They fail to see the true weight of any situation when the two face it together.

Everything dark and dreary dusts away under a bad joke and some back-and-forth 

“Guys. C’mon.”

You reach for Lo’ak, tugging him by his armband away from this quandary he's planted himself in.

Lo’ak follows reluctantly, sparing a lingering glare at Kxa’nan.

“Try that shit again, I dare you!”

Lo’ak calls over his shoulder. 

“He dares you!”

Spider fans the fire.

You groan, not expecting to be babysitting two idiots today. 

“For the love of Eywa you two-”

Your boys. You loved them anyways.

If you were a shadow, Lo’ak and spider were your clouds. Protecting you from looming notions that threatened to tear the darkness. 

Neteyam watched from afar.

Neteyam wasn't normally a very angry person. 

Inconspicuous glares and silent mumbles. Flicks of his tail subtly revealing his brewing emotions.

Other than that, Neteyam wore a mask. 

Accustomed to pleasantries, never daring to chase beyond the notion of familiarity. Having an audience, the constant need to entertain those even he swore to eywa he couldn't tolerate, was a burdening thing.

Eye contact. Smile. Sit up straight. Don't laugh too loudly. 

Some swore if they turned neteyam over and searched the right corners, you'd find puppet strings.

His mask grew with the years, cracking only in small fragments wear vulnerability leaked through the crevices, small silent outbursts of leashless emotions.

It's a rare sight.

But at this moment, Neteyam swore Lo’aks fire was spreading.

Loneliness came as a luxury for neteyam. It was the only time he allowed himself to truly become hers.

Some nights, all he dreamed of was her.

Her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

Oh, how he longs for her. 

If he kissed her, if he even so much as grazed her skin, he'd fear shed disappear back to the shadows.

Coaxing hesitance was a second-nature concept.

Yet, he's haunted by an insatiable compulsion to protect her.

Ghosts of daydreams, husks of lingering touches and reincarnations of longing gazes. Rain carries ghosts that cherish the fragments of their lives within the darkness of the clouds, because the vexatious luminescent antagonist we claim to be sunlight, provides no sanctuary to a ghost.

Perhaps that's why his daydreams abandon him. 

Perhaps the dissipate to his own negligence.

He was always yours. He didn't want you in the way Kxa’nan did. Your heart wasn't a game or an object to be used, then discarded.

You were a story. He would treat you like one of your flowers unless you wished otherwise. 

He would do anything for you.

He would steal every happy ending for you. 

You preferred small corners in which he couldn't fit. You preferred night to day. 

Neteyam was in sunlight.

You were a shadow.

And sunlight and shadow cannot touch. 

Neteyams attempts to dim himself always became futile. Dreams of touching you became glimpses. It lingers in a flurry of color, his palms longing for your warmth.

Vexation was silent.

It never screamed.

Until this moment.

Kiri, whom was rambling about the river crystals she planned on collecting, thanking neteyam for letting him use his basket as she waded in the shin deep Creek, 

Neteyam’s lne of focus scrutinized the sight a few trees ahead of him.

Kxa’Nan grabbing your hands, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.

He couldn't hear, but neteyam could see your agape mouth, he sensed inaudible shallow breaths.

He was touching you.

He was touching you.

He was touching you.

He was touching you.

Aggression stirred beneath his skin.

How he watched Kxa’nan skip off like nothing happened, after Spider and Lo’ak made their grand entrance and not-so-swift escape.

“Pandora to Neteyam!”

Kiri chucked a yovo fruit at his head.

The man had been staring into space for the last 6 minutes. 

Kiri personally didn’t spare something as precious as brain cells on something as meager as the two unbearable creatures she called her brothers, but the occasional pestering that accompanied their relationship has become a necessity.

Kiri had found some feathers near the river on her hunt for crystals.

She was offering them to neteyam for his knife sheath (she’s been begging him for weeks. His sheath is just ‘too boring’ for her taste.)

  when she found her brother mindlessly wandering his gaze ahead.

“Ow-

What the hell-

Kiri!”

He glared at his sister.

Kiri huffed.

“Sxkwang. You’ve been zoned away for minutes now! Are you loosing your hearing?”

Neteyam rolls his eyes, his mood suddenly deflated.

“No. I’m fine…”

Kiri’s playfulness withers for a moment.

Kiri was a lot of things.

Kiri was modest, compassionate, candid and capable.

She spoke to the forest the same way Y/n spoke to the stars.

Kiri perched herself next to her brother, nudging him with her tail.

“You okay?”

He shook his head.

Something flickers past Neteyam’s features.

It’s soft, light, a thin layer but its presence isn’t going unnoticed. 

Something that can almost be mistaken as regret contorts  his features.  His confidence has fallen. Not completely, only slightly. A somber shade of gray dances past his face.

There’s a few beats of silence.

It’s not uncomfortable. It’s understanding. The two siblings find a common ground between this void of conflict.

“Do you think mom was ever afraid of Dad?”

Kiri stayed quiet for a moment, the question stilling her.

“Mom? Our mom? Neytiri Tskaha Mo’at’ite?? Afraid of our father? 

You humor me, brother.

If anything, dad should be afraid of mom.”

Kiri chuckles, leaning back against the tree.

Neteyam chuckles as well, but it sobers itself in a flash of memory.

When they were small, Neteyam and his siblings would curl around the fire In their families marui, neteyam would sit next to y/n, while Lo’ak laid his head on her shoulder, obnoxiously snoring into like the 6 year old he was.

Kiri sat on the other side, looking up in awe at her father as Jake spoke.

Jake told his children stories of a time that was before the marine learned to see.

He grasped the essence of life: the  immunology of pandora. The power, the secret to growth, a true appreciation for the relative importance of things, order, and balance. 

He told his children of the corpse of a life now forgotten, where the fallen hometree remains but memories rots.

Jake prayed to eywa his memories could rot with it.

He told stories of earth, as well.

Comparing his wife to Cupid, fond of arrows. How she stopped his heart without even grazing it.

Neteyam was an idiot for love stories. Especially as a child.

Particularly his parents’ love story.

How two people, worlds part find themselves together under the sky of pandora. The day they met. The day the stars aligned and two hearts disregarded the burdens of a cruel reality, and found a home within a war. Found intimacy through the most painful of grieving.

If Jake and Neytiri, a former human and a na’vi,

Why not Neteyam and Y/n?

Why not the sun and a shadow?

Kiri stilled for a moment.

“I guess..maybe there was fear of mom’s loyalties being internally tested?

Maybe she thought she would have been betraying her people if she mated with dad.

Remember the Cupid story?”

Neteyam contemplates it for a moment.

“But mom didn’t mate with dad till after his iknimaya? He was already one of the people. He claimed his ikran, and  through dreamhunt.”

Kiri shrugged.

“True. But he kinda got his na’vi card revoked when hometree fell. Don’t you think?

Are you suggesting you want a woman to shoot you with an arrow?”

Kiri chuckled.

Neteyam can’t help but snicker.

A somber stillness comes over him once again, his voice is quiet. Fragile.

“Do you think at one point they thought that..

That maybe they just couldn’t be together because dad was a human?

Because two people are so different, it’s never even a possibility? 

That our insecurities fester into doubt?”

Kiri stares with tints of concern for her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He seemed to be getting a bit too worked up for a light conversation.

There was something about embedded underneath. Hidden.

“What if-“

“They loved eachother.”

Kiri interrupts Neteyam’s maddening anxiety for a moment.

“They loved one another.

It’s almost impossible to neglect when your so deeply in love with someone. Even if you convince yourself  conditional, unbinding. They were in love.

She held him even out of his avatar when he was dying in that shack.

They were always meant to be, Neteyam…what is this really about?”

Neteyam swallows thickly.

His deep, accented voice grazing the edges of a sharp concept, dripping with denial.

“Do you think the sun and a shadow can fall in love?”

Kiri is quiet for a moment.

She’s not confused.

For once, her brother's mask cracks. 

For once; the warrior needs protecting.

There's Something unguarded and raw behind his gaze. There’s something fragile. 

And most protect fragile things.

“This is about Y/n, isn’t it. What happened, Neteyam?”

Neteyam sighed.

“Kxa’nan.”

Kiri’s eyes thinned at the mention of his name.

He once ‘accidentally’ tripped her while she was walking, and refused to come clean when neteyam confronted him.

Jake didn’t even like him.

And Jake was the chief of fucks sake.

“What did he do?”

Kiri suddenly felt her own wall go up.

She thought of Y/n as much as a sister as she would Tuk. Memories of giggling and gossiping after the brothers and tuk were asleep and Jake and neytiri went on dates. Telling eachother stories and braiding each others hair.

You were a shadow, and Kiri was your Venus. 

“He touched her hands. Just like-

Grabbed them.

And then she had one of her-“

Neteyam makes a motion with his hands to indicate erratic breathing but ends up just deeming himself laughable.

“She had an…asthma attack?”

Kiri made her first guess.

“No-

She had like-“

Neteyam struggles to articulate himself.

“You know when her breath gets kinda shallow? And she just-“

Kiri spares him the embarrassment.

And herself a headache.

“Yes yes. I know-“

She freezes.

“Wait. You saw this happen?”

“..yes I thought I made that clear-“

“And you didn’t go and protect her?”

“….”

Kiri smacked neteyam upside the head.

“Ow! Kiri! That’s the second time you’ve hit me!”

“You skxawng! You fool! You dumbass!

You didn’t go to her aid!?

Eywa help us all. You’re right. You suck at this.”

Neteyam’s ears pin back and he winced.

“I was going to-“

“Bullshit!”

“Kiri I swear!”

“She’s afraid of me!”

The two are still at the brusk's confession.

“Neteyam. Y/n may not be…the most comfortable with everyone but she’s not afraid of you-“

“Yes she is.”

Neteyam cuts her off.

His tone is defeated and blank.

Acceptance is an essential part of grief.

“Neteyam….”

“Doesn’t she know I would do anything for her?

I would steal the night sky for her.  I’d make the whole world become a shadow so she doesn’t feel so alone-

It shut myself away so that she has nothing to fear. I’d never draw another breath again if it meant she’d smile.

It’s beyond precious. It’s beyond anything I can describe, sister-“

Kiri’s mind struggled to keep pace with the maddening reality of Neteyam’s violently clashing sentiments.

It hits Kiri.

“You love her.”

“Sister, I worship her.

There must be something wrong with me.

I swear the stars envy her.”

Kiri and him sit for a moment.

“You asked me if the sun and a shadow can fall in love?

Do you remember what norm told us?

Moonlight doesn’t exist. Moonlight is reflected by the sun.

When the world becomes a shadow, the sun provides what little light it can to the darkness so it doesn’t fall pitch black. 

She dwells in the dark? Give to her what you already provide.”

“And what is that?”

“Light.”

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

“Should have just let me fuck him up.”

You groan at Lo’ak’s words.

You, Lo’ak, and spider were weaving a chain of leaves and branches for a hunt festival later that night.

Y/n didn’t like large crowds. She fared better with her two idiots, much to the dismay of other na’vi in the clan.

Spider snickers.

“Maybe if your little boyfriend showed up, he could have swept you off your feet and protected you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Neteyam was probably busy helping Kiri. He probably didn’t hear his maiden’s cry for help.”

Lo’ak and Spider both cackle.

“You two think you're funny? I don’t need neteyam to come defend me.

And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Lo’ak gasps dramatically.

Then he chuckles.

“Listen sis. Our existence is the height of hilarity. 

You're just mad that neteyam didn’t come and tell Kxa’nan off.

By the way, Can we get a thank you? 

We saved your ass back there.”

It’s roll your eyes, shoving Lo’ak, with a small mumbled ‘thank you’.

“Y/n? Can I get some help?”

Jake comes into view, tapping you on the shoulder.

You stand, following him back to the family marui.

You find yourself helping Jake repair a human object called a ‘radio’.

It played music and could record things as well.

Jake and Neytiri have a tradition. They’d dance the human way at a festival, out of sight from others.

You found it beautiful, really.

You didn’t have parents of your own to witness a growing relationship between. But watching Jake and Neytiri was far more interesting. 

Jake seemed to notice how quiet you were.

And not as quiet as usual.

To the surprise of many, you cling to Jake more than you did Neytiri as a child.

Not to say neytiri wasn’t able to take care of Y/n.

Neytiri adored Y/n. Considered her a 3rd daughter.

And well, she was the closest thing to a mom y/n would have after her own mothers death.

It was different with Jake.

Y/n has some flashes of memory with her biological mother.

With Tsu’tey? She had none.

Neytiri found herself in a place that once already held a shadow.

Meanwhile, Hake had to make his own shadow.

Reflections and reality, gentle whispers and ruffling her hair, Jake was gentle as he could be.

He considered Y/n and Lo’ak like twins solely because of their separation anxiety as children.

 y/ns shadow and Lo’ak’s fire was a constant contrast in Jake’s life.

Jake would pick her up, rest her in the crook of his elbow; whisper small, gentle things.

Jake was much more protective and diligent over Y/n.

He always thought she saw the world much larger than his other children did.

Jake realized Y/n liked flowers and plants because they were easily satisfied with company. 

They aren’t people. She didn’t have to raise her voice or embed herself in a state of stillness.

Jake heard the whispers.

“Does she even speak?”

“She’s a bit old to be hiding like that.”

“Maybe she’d like to play with my child-“

Rueful pesky whispers. That’s all he heard.

Jake didn’t speak. He didn’t raise his voice or even make a sound.

He places his hand on her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down her back like that day all those years ago  under the shade.

Jake would always be your shade.

Your sanctuary for your shadow.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

The festival raged on below.

You were currently a bundle of nerves as it is.

You had lost Spider and Lo’ak in the crowd and retreated to one of the higher hills to search for them.

You'd think plucking them out of a sea of faces would be second nature, but no, your boys fancied the self of one-sided hide-and-go-seek.

Spider and Lo’ak were your clouds. The radical rebellion within a rain storm. And as you tried to dish out a shimmering reflection off of spiders mask that protected him from the unwelcoming atmosphere of the jungle, the sky grew darker and darker. Laughter run through the air, the fire accentuating features of those who danced with the flames and sang with the embers.

You didn’t hate people. That was a common misconception about you. 

You preferred plants to people, because one didn’t talk nearly as much as the other, and the stories within the roots and water, droplets weren’t as near as overbearing as the burdening shrills of overbearing questions. I’m nights like these were the clan gathered in large groups you would sit alone in a tree with  Spider and Lo’ak. You talked about everything you were going to do the secret and stars were going to steal for one another. 

On occasion, you talked to Spider about Neteyam. 

How do you fear this barricaded wall you’ve built around yourself was going to turn into something he could never climb. That may be this archer you dreamed of was simply out of your grasp. You dreamed of him as the sky struck midnight in the colors in the clouds, concealing the world of a shadow you dwelled in. 

Spider and Lo’ak made hesitance and patience deem itself as something worth only for baiting you into good behavior. That he would slip from your grass, that your life with slip away in a blink if you didn’t go and kiss him as the mere second. 

Nights were filled of him.

His eyes, a paradox of the golden hour. His strong figures sculpted like mountains, his words that painted the sky in the sea. 

He wondered if he tasted like sunlight and wind, if his lips were as gently roughed-edged and honed as his voice.

Or if when you touched him, the last salvageable stretches of the sunset would disappear under your lips. And you would return to recycled versions of his lingering touches..  

You loved him. You truly, truly loved him.

And what would the sullys think? His parents? His siblings?

You owed everything to them.

They didn’t have to take you in after your mother passed. 

Lo’ak was your fire. Neteyam was your sun. Kiri was your Venus. Tuk was your star. Jake was your wind. Neytiri was your mountain. Spider was your cloud.

But you? You were a shadow.

Finding your voice became more difficult as a child. 

This shyness, this shadow, this ‘anxiety’ as Jake called it.

This thing. This monster. 

Made out of  shadows and secrets and pesky loud whispers.

It’s tall with limbs like sticks.

It’s chained to your wrist like an unwanted prisoner. 

It sends strokes of dread down your back.

And it haunted you.

When you longed for Neteyam, but this chain around your wrist kept its barricade of darkness.

Even as a child.

You were a little voice who others assumed only cried for help. 

When you tugged on Neytiri’s waistband, gently signaling you were uncomfortable, when you hid behind Jake’s leg from prying eyes.

How a small Lo’ak followed you around, looked at you like you held the universe in your hands, you were his big sister. How you chewed on your lower lip, nervously holding Jake’s hand while Lo’ak clung to your arm.

How his fire and your shadow caused a collision within the Sully family, beautifully inharmonious chaos. 

You loved Lo’ak. But Lo’ak was your brother.

The closest thing you would have to a brother in this lifetime.

You longed for Neteyams sunlight.

You were a shadow.

Shadows didn’t belong in the light.

Much less to fall in love with it.

To lay beneath his soul, to feel the connection. It’ll always be there. Casting a shadow.

A starless night.

Oh how you longed for moonlight.

You peered down below, your gaze tugged away from your mission to find your two idiots.

You're lost in the beauty of the Omaticaya, people danced in their traditional garb, the drums ruminate through the thick air, and you swore it was the heartbeats of your people.

The fire and the night sky was a beautiful collision dancing off of azure skin.

Then. The rain returns.

“Y/n? Whatcha doing here all alone?”

No. No no no no no.

You whip around to see Kxa’nan.

Your breath leaves you in a soft surge of panic.

“You're always alone. I barely ever hear you talk, yawne. Need some company?”

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 Neteyam was helping his dad cook the fish he hunted earlier over the fire, Neytiri and Kiri assisting with the spices and herbs.

Lo’ak was missing from the picture, nowhere to be seen the whole night since the celebration started.

“Where is your brother?

Neytiri asked, letting Tuk perch herself in her former spot next to Jake.

“You haven’t seen him?”

 Neteyams eyebrows raise. 

“Was he with Y/n and spider?”

 Tuk lifts her head over Jake’s shoulder.

Neytiri, more than displeased at the mention of the human boy, but concern for Lo’ak and protectiveness over Y/m arose.

“Was she with the sky boy and Lo’ak earlier? They went with the foraging group today-

Tuktirey. Stop poking at the dead fish.”

“Sorry mama.”

As if on cue, Lo’ak and spider entered the small tent.

“Lo’ak!”

Neytiri placed her hand on her son’s shoulder.

He was out of breath, looked like he just ran around the entire forest.

“Where’s Y/n?”

He asked in a short gasp.

Jake, now concerned stood to his feet.

“Y/n? Where did you come from, Lo’ak?”

“The festival? I dunno-

I can’t find her. And she hates big crowds like these. Spider had to go back to the lab to get a new mask on short notice, there’s no one with her.”

Tuk giggles.

“Lo’ak was probably too busy dancing with a girl…”

Jake’s eyebrows crinkled.

Neteyam stood at his feet as well.

He left the tent and set off to find you.

He searched the celebration, pushed past the embers and smoke, the thick air of peoples dancing and the sounds of laughter.

On a hill, a little ways off. Two shadows come into view.

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“Kxa’nan..I wish to be alone.”

Kxa’nan groaned at your words.

“Your’e always alone, or you’re hanging out with those two freaks.”

Your shadow dissipates for a moment, anger simmered beneath your skin.

“Lo’ak and Spider aren’t freaks-

don’t talk about them like that.”

Kxa’nan scoffs and your left unhooded with no shadow at all for a moment.

“Don’t laugh. You’re the one always having a pissing race with Neteyam.

Maybe if you aimed your arrow  as good as you flexed your non-existent muscles, there’d be nothing to say.”

He hissed at you and grabbed your arm. Being compared to Neteyam was a jab.

A small wince contorted your features, you gasped.

A flash of lights invades both your visions, and a strong arm is wrapped around your waist, a familiar touch, a circle of safety. 

A familiar azure skinned archer appears beside you, a protective shield of a glare at Kxa’nan.

“Don’t touch her. Ever. Again.”

Kxa’nan scoffs, but a fortification of fear embeds itself In his eyes. Clearly intimidated by Neteyam’s presence.

Kxa’nan glares at you, unhappy with your savior and his impeccable timing.

His eyes flare yellow. Not a soft golden hour like Neteyam’s. No, and even in a clan where all your eyes share the same tint. At the moment this is a sickening shade of yellow. It flares so brightly you thin your eyes to look away.  Your breath hitches in your throat and your voice hides behind the threat of thought.

Neteyam takes a step forward and pushes him away, shielding you from his gaze.

His deep voice honed itself as a rougher edge.

“Don’t look at her.

Look at me.

Don’t come near her again. Got it?”

Lo’ak and spider come into view from behind a few trees.

“Hey! Get away from them. Back it up!”

 Spider’s small figure appears much less intimidating then the Sully brothers. But he remains grounded to protect you. 

“What the fuck did I tell you?”

Lo’ak grab’s Kxa’nan by his bicep roughly.

“Don’t bother her. And what did you do?”

Kxa’nan glares at you and your four tyrants.

“Y/n, did you really have to bring this whole freak show family with you?”

He bites.

There’s a beat of silence.

And then, Lo’aks fist collides with Kxa’nan’s jaw, hot, red liquid pools from his mouth.

“It’s called a punch, Bitch! Don’t ever touch my sister again.”

Kxa’nan tackles Lo’ak, and Spider body slams the Na’vi.

Tapping his elbow before placing his other hand on his bicep and flinging himself, jabbing Kxa’nan in the ribs with his elbow.

Jake emerged from a few trees away, groaning and trying to grab his son before shit actually got heavy.

Jake places a lingering touch on your arm to make sure you were safe,

Jake drags Lo’ak up by his arm, grabbing spider by his waist.

Spider explains the predicament, and Jake angrily drags Kxa’nan away to be dealt with.

No one messes with his kids.

Lo’ak wiggles his eyebrows at Neteyam, who’s held you close to him this whole time.

And then.

You’re alone.

Neteyam turns to you, his fingers dragging down your cheeks gently.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Talk to me, please..”

Gently cradling your face in the cup of his palms. 

A fire alights beneath your skin.

“I’m fine, Nete…he just made me…uncomfortable..”

There’s silence. 7 beats worth.

“How long has he been bothering you?”

Your voice peaks from behind your barricade.

“Awhile…”

“You never came to me, you never told me. Y/n I will always protect you. Why didn’t you come to me?”

 His voice was a labyrinth of desperation clinging to hope.

“I’m sorry..”

It’s a small fragile whisper.

And most protect fragile things.

Neteyam gently drags his hands down your neck, another hand gently tracing your rib cage.

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to know that I care for you. So deeply, Y/n.”

Is there another universe out there where I can spare you the pain of love?

Longing for someone so desperately you fear they’ll become aflame under your touch.

Does he taste like fire?

Is the plush of your skin sculpted from shadows?

This love was a painting you never had the courage to count the colors, in fear they would flurry away.

In this fortress of his arms, in this circle of sunlight, in this last surviving stretch of a sunset, there’s a flare.

Neteyam gives to others only to deny himself.

You reach for something made of glass only to see it shatter again.

But not here.

Not now.

You whisper hoarsely as his hands cradle your face.

“I don’t like big crowds.”

He smiles and kisses your nose.

“Then neither do I.”

The two of you sit there, under the canopy of the trees, watching the stars. 

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

Your head laid on his chest, the only music you two needed was the sound of your intertwining heartbeats.

You traced the lines on his palms, and he kissed your cheek.

Soft whispers and lingering gazes.

“What’s your favorite star?”

You ask him.

You.

He wants to say, but he holds his tounge. Eyes scanning the sky for the perfect star to satisfy your curiosity.

“That one.”

He points to one, it’s in the midst of a cluster of scattered flurries of white specks.

You leaned into his shoulder, his hand gently cupping the back of your head.

“What would happen if they started falling?”

“I’d catch them for you.”

You chuckled at his answer.

He closes his eyes and basks in the aubade of your laughter.

Your soul, gentle semblances of beauty in the space behind the sun.

Love is a sacrificial abstraction. He sees you in signposts and circles, and parallel lines.

Another beat of silence passes.

“Y/n.”

He breaths your name, dragging his finger along your pulse point.

You hear music in the distance.

Not the drums of the Omaticaya, or the flutes of your people.

You peer down over the hill and see two figures slow dancing to a radio in the family Marui.

Neytiris giggles are gently heard as the silhouette of her and Jake dancing comes into view.

You sighed in contentment. Sometimes, you, Neteyam, Kiri and Lo’ak would spy on them behind the tent flap. Observing them dance, Jake teaching her the way people dance on earth.

Neteyam smiles as well.

“I love it when they do that…”

You lean into his shoulder, and he finds himself lost in your eyes once again.

He wishes he could give you the whole world. A place where you can disregard burdens of reality, be tangled with her pages and plants, gardens made of clouds, and laughter, where you can trace the in patterns of her favorite flower, where you can touch the consolation within isolation. It is not loneliness you desire, you don't want the fixation of the introspection within your shadow.

Neteyam stands you both to your feet, Jake’s music dwells in the night air, the stars seem to twinkle in perfect rhythm.

“Neteyam, what are we doing?”

You laugh.

“Dancing, come yawne.

Put your hands here, and my hand goes-“

He pauses before placing his hand on your lower waist, just like he saw his father do.

“May I?”

You nod.

Before you can blink, he sways you with the music, you laugh and avoid stepping on his toes

For a moment, the shadows disappear. The sun burns out. It’s no longer so bright you are forced to shy away to the dark.

Custom, reason, temptation, it all fades behind the stars.

The moonlight traces his figure as you dance, the stars reminisce in your eyes.

You were composed of stories.

Captivating, euphonious stories. 

The same stories that you cradled in your pals when you held your plants.

Your souls dance but your gazes remain still.

He gently cups your face in his hands, lifting your chin.

“I see you, Y/n. I have never seen anyone but you, beautiful…”

Your breath hitches.

“I see you, Neteyam. I’ve always seen you..”

When you kiss him, the shadows and the sunlight collide, and soft gasps and and tangible emotions are torn. 

There is no barricade.

The distance was only ever created because distance was safe.

But you don’t want distance.

Neither does he.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

He lays you down on the soft bed of grass, he yearns to kiss every inch of you from your hairline to your ankles.

“Y/n, oh my Y/n…my beautiful, beautiful y/n.”

He whispers your name like a mantra, as if you would wither away into the shadows again if he didn’t pray your name.

Your gasps serenaded him.

Your hands tugged on his braids as he kissed your neck,

“What do you wish for me to do, yawne? Speak for me, my good girl..”

Your leg wrapped around his hip. You couldn’t help but buck into him.

Love like this only haunts you with light that once existed behind the shadow, the one that surfaced behind the sun.

Eclipse is near.

He unraveled you like the universe was beneath your top and loincloth, stroking you with gentle drags of his thumb, his strong arm hooked under your thigh.

“Neteyam-

Eywa please…”

You begged for him to soothe the aching heat

“Shhh. It’s okay, my sweet girl. I’m right here…just keep looking up at those pretty stars. The stars are yours, my love,

Fuck-

Everything, the sky, the sun, the oceans, the shadows they’re all yours, my love. So am I.”

He reached around for his braid and you followed suit. 

You both stared into eachothers eyes. The pools of honeyed golden hour beneath the moon.

The sweet nectar dripping down your thighs, your curves traced by his touch,

“Tsaheylu, Neteyam..please.”

Who was he to deny you?

And as you connected the stars fell.

A flurry of colors, a blur of ecstasy, straddled, kissed, caressed, explored.

The drapes of the moonlight bathing you.

Every coherent thought withered into a static of white, 

This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t one body entering another for pleasure. This was a soul finding it’s flame.

He begged the deity to never take his shadow away.

“Do you feel it y/n, it’s always been there..I’ve always been here..don’t hide from me again.”

His rough accent voice honed your ears, his nose dragging along your pulse point, you whined in response. 

The heat faded away, tranquility returned.

He kissed you, your chin, your lips, your hair, thank you’s and praises whispered as his string arms encircled you.

You laid on his chest, and you faintly hear him whisper 

“I think it’s finally eclipse…”

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

-Sunofpandora

2023

“Diaphanous” 

Tag list:

@neteyamsoare

@yeosxxx

@lianna75

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

Im SCREAMING right now.

Im super insecure in writing smut but i kinda wanted to try it? It's not really smut tbh just like…really intimate?

Idk.

But I struggled with this fr. Writers block ate me up.

So idk how good this is. Sorry 😭

I hope everyone enjoyed. That request box is gonna be open in the next few weeks but I might be a bit busy so there might be a bit of a wait.

I wanted to include some parallels from the movie, and some references to Jake and Neytiri through Neteyam and Y/n, so I hope everyone caught those. 

I hoped you enjoyed “diaphanous” 🌀🪐

[lostmysockies]

𝙅𝙚𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙘𝙨 (bc I can)

this is just what I think guys don’t fight me if I give him smthn y’all don’t like 😔

ART CREDITS TO @ijustwannahavefunn

• Dyes his hair black every once in a while. (Why? Once he saw his brown hair coming back and freaked out.)

• Anemic (if you do not know what Anemia is Google it.)

• Watches my little pony (strictly friendship is magic)

• Monster energy addict and atleast has three to four cans a day.

• Man likes pickup trucks, specially Ram though.

• Read the Warriors series in order but denies knowing anything about them

• Greek mythology nerd but will never admit it

• He has random plastic water bottles scattered all over his room.

• He loves nu-metal, his favorite band is Slipknot he seems like a slipknot guy does he not?

• Likes Treaty Oak Revival

• 5’10 but will tell you he’s 6 foot

• 25 years old

• He didn’t fully cut through his cheeks so there’s nasty scars that he reopens every once in awhile

• Definitely owns vapes and definitely a stoner

• Picks on Toby

• His best friend is Smile dog (Dog is a man’s best friend)

• He lets smile sleep in his room and has a bed and blanket for him but would rather have Smile sleep in bed with him (who doesn’t love to have their dogs with them?)

• Casually calls Smile his baby

• Definitely into the 2000’s emo style

• Doesn’t have sheets on his bed he claims they “make him heat up”

•Band posters all over his room

• Bisexual

• My dude yells slurs just for fun..

• Surprisingly showers often

• His ears are littered in piercings he either did himself or had Eyeless Jack do for him.

•Also has spider bites, eyebrow piercing, and a nose stud

• Put on guy liner and eye shadow

• For his sake he has eyelids (unless you want him to carry around eye drops 24/7)

• Burns and scars up and down his arms and neck

• favorite animal is a shark

• He’s def narcissistic

• Somewhat distant

• scary ahh blue eyes

• His favorite pony is Rainbow Dash cause he thinks they act alike

• misses his brother but would never admit it

• Has up a thick veil of bravery

• His hair comes down to his shoulder blades

• paints his nails black

• only wears stainless steel jewelry

• only uses a lamp in his room for light, if someone turns on the light in the ceiling he hissed and screeches “the big light”

• Satanist or Atheist (he hasn’t decided yet)

• Has a southern drawl when he yells

• He has intermittent explosive disorder.

• he likes spoof horror movies

• Owns a pair of black Durango cowboy boots but rarely ever wears them

• doesn’t like candles and will blow them out if he see’s them

• Can’t hear shit, you could be talking to him and he’d say “huh.”

• He has insomnia

• Knows a bit of French, probably only how to say yes and no

• 100% destroys his ears with how loudly he listens to music

• Draws out his feelings and keeps them in a sketchbook in his mattress.

• His bedroom door is always closed no matter what.

• This man SHEDS and I mean SHEDS, he could take a shower and there’ll be black hair on the walls and shower curtain.

• wears cologne a lot

• has dog tags around his neck.

THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF 😭😭 RAHHHHHHHH I’m going to sleep 😖 I love yalls good night/day ..

[goldenbat]

Lady Lilith

what you need to know :3 (mostly UPGs!)

Her History:

She has many origins. One says that Lord Lucifer sacrificed one half of his essence to create her as his twin flame. In Heaven, she was known as the Queen of Queens & was there to guide other beings through spiritual evolution. Lucifer & her lived in a kingdom until the rebellion. One common misconception is that she harms children, which she actually does quite the opposite. She is a very motherly deity & seeks to protect the children. (this is kinda a UPG, what she told me)

Another common myth talks about how she was actually the first woman and refused to lay underneath Adam, therefore left Eden, which later turned her into a daemon.

Also remember that she does not like people lusting over her. Any sexualisation of her will be punished, especially since she is married (so no, she will not be your god spouse and neither will be Lucifer). She is also the Mother of the Daemons!

Her appearance:

Now, this is more of a UPG, how she appears to me, specifically.

I see her as having long, wavy, dark (like a dark, blood red), voluminous hair and very pale skin. She has black horns, black feathery wings, sometimes also bat-like wings, and a somewhat chubby body type. Her fingernails are sharp & long, she has beautiful long lashes and usually wears very romantic gothic type of clothing. She also has fangs, pretty much like a vampire! She does represent vampires

Her personality:

She is both comforting and lecturing. She will make sure to give you a kick in the butt when you need it, but also have a very warm, caring energy whenever you need it. She will not accept you hating on yourself, since she thinks of women as strong warriors, especially since, according to the myth, she did not want to lay beneath a man, thus meaning she won't let women be belittled, and stands for that. She can be harsh sometimes, but overall she is very motherly, very encouraging too! She's either serious, or very up-hyping, super nice. Sometimes she even cracks a joke, which first seems out of character but then when you focus on her type of humor, it seems fitting

Her Enn:

Renich Viasa Avage Lilith Lirach

Number:

7

Day:

Monday

Planet:

Moon

Colors:

* black

* purple

* red

Incenses:

* frankincense

* myrrh

* dragon's blood

* sandalwood

Animals:

* snakes

* spiders

* bats

* black cats

Crystals:

* rose quarz

* clear quarz

* amethyst

* moonstone

* black onyx

Offerings:

* red wine

* pomegranate juice

* chocolates (hot chocolate too)

* tea (fruit tea, rose tea)

* feminine, rosey perfume

* silver jewellery

* gothic decoration for her altar

* dried roses

* swords, daggers, etc

* serpent figures

* gothic mirrors

* her sigil

* anything revolving around vampires

Devotional Acts:

* shadow work!! very important

* poetry

* creating a playlist for her (she loves that)

* learning about her

* representing female independence

* including mentions/references to her in literature

What she represents:

* independence, especially amongst feminine people

* sexuality through love as a form of unity

* romance

* motherhood

* desire to evolve

* the immortality of the spirit

* beauty

* wisdom

* the night

* illumination

* rebirth

What she can help you with:

* spirituality

* magick

* dark wisdom

* the mystery

* dark psychology

* shadow work

* love

* romance

* self-empowerment

* beauty

* sexuality

* healing from mental issues

* inner-strength

[sullyfortress]

Imagine Lo’aks daughter being the exact same as him and Jake, always finding ways of putting herself in danger. Lo’ak nearly pulling his hair out in worry and stress while Jake is laughing his ass off at how the tables have turned. 🤣

Ok so just some general headcannons

Pey Pey + Ziri relationships to the other Sullys:

Jake:

He loves that Ziri has a rebellious streak and Lo'ak is experiencing the same terror that Jake did raising him. Ziri reminds Jake of Neytiri alot. Jake also as we know is a girl dad and has a soft spot for his granddaughter which does not help in her discipline(Yes he calls her babygirl). He and Neytiri often get in trouble covering for her or teaching her hunting skills that Lo'ak thinks she's too young for. Also he and Tonowari definitely get competitive trying to proove who's the best granddad.

Pey Pey is Jake's little man. He is a silent shadow of Toruk Makto. It's not uncommon to see Jake walking about given instructions and orders to his warriors fighting RDA with Pey Pey on his hip.

Pey Pey loves to mimic his granddad and definatly got the need to please Jake gene from Lo'ak. Like many in the family, Jake is very protective of Pey Pey, as he does remind him of Neteyam. This leads to frustration from young Pey Pey as he is coddled more than his sister.

Neytiri:

Badass grandma to the max. She often will buck against Lo'ak an Tsireya and join sides with Ziri. Especially when Ziri wants to take a warrior route while Tsireya wants her to take more of a pacifist path. Neytiri helps Ziri connect to her Omaticaya culture.

Ziri also really wants her own Ikran like grandma so Neytiri insists upon taking her on a field trip to Ayram alusìng(Floating Mountains) to get her own Ikran. To which Lo'ak says no because they are Metkayina she doesn't need an ikran and Neytiri raises hell going on and on about how she won't deny her granddaughter her culture!!!

Neytiri has a special love for Pey Pey as his sweet disposition reminds her of Neteyam. She spends time teaching him to braid and bead jewelry just as she taught Neteyam.

Also her and Ronal also compete over being the best grandmother.

Kiri:

Kiri has a closer relationship to Pey Pey than Ziri. Pey Pey's calm and inquisitive nature means he himself is more curious about Eywa and the life on pandora. Also with him being deaf, connecting with ilu's and other creatures gives him access to senses that he's never had before.

Kiri has become a mentor of sorts to Pey Pey and teaches him much of what Mo'at taught her about medicine and spiritual intuition.

Tuk:

While wild in her youth, Tuk actually becomes the responsible battle aunt. Tuk grew up to be a powerful warrior in the Metkayina clan. She loves to play from time to time, but growing up as a child in war did leave Tuk to be a little more precarious. Like many in the family, Pey Pey and Ziri remind her of Neteyam and Lo'ak. Which means she cares very deeply and very muchy hovers over her niece and nephew. But she also knows that fun and play are important distractions from war.

Spider:

He's the crazy uncle who encourages Ziri's rebellious nature. He also has a soft spot for little Pey Pey and makes sure to include him whenever he can. Pey Pey likes uncle Spider as he is coddled less with him.

Ziri calls Spider 'baby uncle' due to his small human size.

*Neteyam* Spirit: (Same relationships if he was alive)

When they are old enough to connect to the spirit tree, the kids meet their uncle.

Ziri loves to hear stories from her uncle about the Omaticaya forest and about her family when her father was a child.

Pey Pey, can speak through Eywa and therefore has a voice that only Uncle Neteyam can hear. He often shares insecurities and frustrations that he is unable to vocalize with the rest of the family. Neteyam and Pey Pey understand one another best in the Sully family as both are reserved and often put the needs of others before their own, and had a desire to please their fathers but always feeling out of reach of approval.

Pey Pey also feels insecure about not wanting to be 'a warrior'. He very much connects more with the role of a healer and worries he will disappoint Jake and Lo'ak.

Neteyam comforts and relates to him as he was forced into the perfect son role, but isn't sure that was really what brought him joy. (in my canon, Neteyam actually loved beading and jewelry making and had a lot of anxiety connected to the perfect warrior role).

[shu-box-puns]

My personal headcanon is that Tsu'Tey needs to use a cane, cos he definitely didn't just walk of that gigant ass fall he took at the end of the last movie without any serious consequences to his health (both physical and mental), and that at first he kinda despised the fact that he had to use it, cos to him it just proved as a reminder that he no longer is the warrior he use to be, like some things he just can't do anymore or can't do as well as before and it just tears him apart. He becomes distant and can be very irritable at times, especially when his injuries flar up further, and sometimes just wishes he was with Eywa because he doesn't see a point to him even being alive if he can't contribute to the clan as a warrior. Now enter Spider, this little human child who no one seems to particularly care for or acknowledge (except the Sully kids ofc), who he meets by accident one day while he was watching the trainees doing their thing, in a shadow of some tree, brooding, and Spider just casually approaches him asking Tsu'Tey if he wants to play with him and stuff (like Na'vi version of tag or smt), but Tsu'Tey just tries ignoring him and shooing him away, but Spider is a persistent little bean and eventually he just outright tells him he can't play with him cos he's hurt. Upon hearing this Spider just stares at him for a few seconds and leaves. Thinking he finally got rid of him, Tsu'Tey gets back to his usual brooding, before the child reappears mere minutes later with some strange fruit looking thing between his hands (its a basketball he found somewhere in Hells Gate) and he just sits across him and tosses the thing to him. His VERY confused but still tosses it back to Spider, which goes over his head and he has to go get it, but eventually comes back and does the same thing and Tsu'Tey is just, forced to play along. After this Spider starts visiting him at the same spot almost every day and bringing some object with him so he and Tsu can play together and after some time Tsu'Tey doesn't mind it that much anymore, he even starts looking forward to their little meetings every day and even starts telling Spider some common Na'vi stories and he always sits still and listens. Tsu'Tey starts felling mentality and physically better overall, he starts sleeping better, felling less grumpy and starts feeling like less of a burden to his Clan. He also teaches Spider basic survival skills and stuff like how to shoot a bow and such, which he can still to pretty efficiently. Eventually he starts wondering who are the boys parents or at least foster parents, so he goes to ask Jake and that's when he finds out that he's the son of Quaritch, the man who helped destroy their Hometree. Tsu'Tey is in shock, but is not outright rejecting Spider now, just sort of, avoiding him and not spending as much time with him, cos he's still processing how something so kind and precious can be related to a Demon so cruel and evil. Spider takes the whole thing thinking he did something wrong and that his father figure is mad at him for it. This leads to a scenario where goes missing (aka goes into the woods alone without telling anyone) and Norm comes to Tsu to ask him if Spider is w/him and Tsu'Tey starts promptly freaking out when he tells them that he is not and they tell him that Spider is not with them either. They all go to search for him in the woods and at some point Tsu'Tey finds himself alone in some section of it, very desperate, and starts yelling that he is sorry for avoiding him and begging him to come back and Spider actually DOES appear after that, red eyed and with a runny nose, and Tsu'Tey just huggs him so tight and tells him to never do that to him again. After Tsu'Tey explains to him why he was avoiding (and that he is still very very sorry for it) they go back to the search party and everyone is soo relived that they finally found him ALIVE. Later he comes to Jake and, with a straight face, tells him: "Ye so anyway I'm keeping this little nantag pup over here cos no one else seems to care enough to officially do it."

Anywho I'm sorry this got WAY to long but when my brain hyperfocuces ond something I just need to rant it out to someone and I JUST *frustrated autistic noises*

Thanks for listening, hope I didn't bore you in any way! 😅

YOU GOT ME SITTING HERE LIKE:

OMG YOU HAVE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL BRAIN! THE ANGST POTENTIAL FOR THIS, THE FOUND FAMILY, THE FATHER-SON DUO SHENANIGANS! SPIDER BEING JUST AN ADORABLY SWEET LITTLE GUY WHO COAXES TSU'TEY OUT OF HIS SHELL! THEM JUST HELPING EACH OTHER BY EXISTING!

The fact Tsu'tey tries to get Spider to leave him alone but Spider just have a 'you're my friend now' moment, and immediately returns with a ball so Tsu'tey can comfortably play with him! STOPPPPPP! THAT'S SO CUTE! MY HEART! And then before he knows it, this just becomes as DAILY THING, AND TSU'TEY HAS NO BLOODY IDEA HOW. He just wants to be sad but Spider is INCREDIBLY persuasive.

NUUU, THE MIDWAY ANGST OF SPIDER BELIEVING HE'S DONE SOMETHING WRONG!!! And then Tsu'tey at the end being like 'might as well' and just adopts Spider. Bet Jake didn't get a say, despite him being the Olo'eyktan and Tsu'tey technically has to run it by him if he's bringing someone new into the clan. Then again, Jake could probably see how good the pair for were one another and let it slide regardless. (Tsu'tey would have had strong words for him if he had put up a fuss of course).

I would consume the fuck out of this concept if you ever decided to expand! Thank you so much for sharing :)))))

[cherllyio]

Lego Monkie Kid x Moana AU

Rewatched Moana and was like: "Man, Maui is kinda like Wukong" and now we have this

Explanation

(i might edit this as i go)

MK(Moana): A strange but hyperactive boy, who dreams about great voyages at sea. The same his hero, Sun Wukong, also went on. From a young age, he has felt connection to the ocean, that can never truly be explained.

Wukong(Maui): "The great demigod equal to the seven seas. He has been on many great voyages, on which he has liftided up the sky, created coconuts among many other things. He once had compainions with him on these journeys, but they are all gone now. He also possesed the abilty to transform, but for some reason, cant anymore... He is currently trapped on an Island, unable to get away. He also hates that he is demigod, and will correct anyone who says he is one.

Pigsy and Tang(Moanas parents): The head chief of the island, and his husband, who despartly tried to get MK to stop waisting his time with The Monkie Kings stories and instead become the head chief of the island. They simply dont want him to be like thoughs monsters, from the Monkie king stories, that they may be related to in some way or the other...

Nuwa(Grandma Tala): She isnt MK's real grandma, but he still calls her it (even though her dads does not like her). She told MK all the great stories of the Monkie King, which started his hyperfixation on Sun Wukong and dreams about fantastic voayges. She did this in the hopes he could do... something with this. Im making her morally grey in this AU, since in canon we dont know Nuwa yet.. She was also the one who gave him, his staff-shaped necklace.

Sandy(The water): He is literally a water demon originally- of course i had to make him the morally support water that helps MK through his journery.

Spider Queen(Tamatoa): A giand spider crab, that loves gold as much as herself. She also seems to have the knowledge of why Wukong cant transform anymore.

The Demon Bull family(The coconut pirates): Yea- they just here for the chaos, the funsies, and being good villians, just like the show. :D

Macaque(Tefiti): Once a mighty warrior, that traveled with the great sage, and had a very close bond with. But now he is an angry and terryfing shadow monster Why has he changed? Well, that is the quiston isnt it?;) (Dont worry i have a good angsty backstory for it)

[zapreportsblog]

In Love With The Same Cat

➥ summary : There’s no Spider-Man without the Black Cat just like there’s no Black Cat without Spider-Man. But what if we had a multiverse dimensional traveling jewelry stealing burglar Black Cat (try saying that seven times fast aye) that traveled across dimensions not only stealing the worlds finest jewels but also the hearts of four unlucky, or lucky depending on how you see it Spider-Man’s and Spider-Women’s hearts.

➥ 3: Seeking Redemption, Not Revenge

Months of tireless training in martial arts and acrobatics had transformed (y/n) into a formidable force to be reckoned with. She had honed her skills and mastered her body, mentally preparing herself for a confrontation that would serve as the ultimate test of her newfound strength.

As (y/n) delved deeper into her mission, her initial mindset of seeking revenge began to shift. Revenge, she realized, was a dark path that could consume her soul and perpetuate a cycle of violence. Instead, she resolved to use this confrontation to reclaim her power and seek a form of redemption for the pain inflicted upon her.

After tirelessly scouring the city, (y/n) finally found a lead that would point her in the direction of Blake, the college guy who had assaulted her that fateful night. It was a trail speckled with danger, but she was no stranger to adversity. With her heart pounding and her determination unwavering, she embarked on this treacherous journey, armed not only with physical prowess but also the strength of her spirit.

When she finally located Blake, (y/n) discovered a man plagued by demons of his own, existing in a world of self-destruction and regret. It was a sobering sight, one that stirred empathy within her. As anger simmered within her veins, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for what he had become.

Drawing deep from the well of her newfound strength, she stepped out of the shadows to confront her assaulter. Blake's eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, time stood still. In that charged silence, (y/n) measured his every move, her training guiding her like an invisible hand.

But instead of lashing out with a fury fueled by revenge, (y/n) chose a different path. She embraced forgiveness, recognizing that it was not weakness, but rather a testament to her own strength.

She looked into Blake's eyes and spoke words that echoed with both pain and resilience. "I refuse to let your actions consume me any longer. I've come here not to take your life, but to claim back mine." Her voice trembled, yet carried an inescapable conviction.

Tears streamed down Blake's face as he finally comprehended the gravity of his actions. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, to find redemption for the pain he had caused. But (y/n) knew that the burden he carried was his alone to bear.

With her head held high, (y/n) turned away from Blake, leaving him in the haunted labyrinth of his own remorse. Redemption, she realized, was a personal journey that required an individual to face their demons, seek amends, and make peace with their past—a journey in which she had no power to escort him.

As (y/n) walked away, she could feel the weight of her past beginning to lift. She wasn't just a survivor anymore; she was a warrior who had triumphed over darkness. The scars on her body were now a testament to her strength, resilience, and reclamation of her identity.

From that point forward, (y/n) dedicated herself to helping others navigate the complex path of healing after trauma. She became an advocate, breaking the cycle of sexual assault, and transforming her pain into a catalyst for change.

In the wake of that confrontation, (y/n) found peace within herself—a peace crafted from the shards of her shattered innocence. She understood that revenge would only breed more anguish, but by choosing forgiveness and reclaiming her power, she had transcended the confines of victimhood.

In the annals of (y/n)'s journey, Chapter 3 marked a significant turning point. It was a chapter that showcased not only her physical growth but, more importantly, her emotional evolution. She learned that true strength resided in rising above the urge for revenge, embracing forgiveness, and forging a new path filled with healing, understanding, and compassion.