#the-art-cave’s beautiful artwork

[stevviefox]

Squeeeeee!!! So cute!!!

i’m spending today thinking about how saber toothed cats ALSO probably had a potato form.  how they also had a stage where they were fat little babies with very triangle tails and tiny squeaky voices.  how they also probably play wrestled and failed badly at calculating jumps.

i’m going to fistfight god for killing them off before i could personally see fat potato saber kittens

[namedvesta]

Marguerite Duras, 1978.

𝑊𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 ‘𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠’, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑏-𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝐸𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑘, 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝒽𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟. 𝑈𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒. 𝑁𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝒽𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒.

𝐼𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝒻𝒻 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠

𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛

𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒  𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝒽𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡

“𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝒽𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝒽𝑎𝑣𝑒 ��𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢”

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦

𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑡

𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒

𝑆𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚

𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑜

“𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢”

𝐼 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝒽𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑟𝑦

𝑂𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑟

𝑈𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒

𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝒽𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝑆𝑒𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒

𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝒽𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝐻𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝒽𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡

𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝒽𝑖𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑

𝐻𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒

𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝒽𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦��𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒

𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝒻𝒻 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟 𝒽𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝒽 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝒽𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝐼 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡

𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝒽𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

[aigeneratedfun]

✨🌌 Meet Tenebrella, the enchanting Princess of the Descensurae Cave Colony! 🌟👑 Deep within the heart of the earth, hidden from the world above, lies the Descensurae Cave Colony. This mysterious underground kingdom has been home to generations of beings who sought refuge in its dark depths to escape a devastating galactic explosion. Among these mystical inhabitants stands Tenebrella, the radiant princess who embodies the beauty and resilience of her people. Shimmering scales cover her body, reflecting the faint glimmers of light that penetrate the cave’s darkness. Her eyes, a deep crimson, glow with an otherworldly intensity, and her vibrant makeup enhances her already mesmerizing features.

Tenebrella’s intricate gown, adorned with delicate lace and precious gemstones, flows elegantly as she moves through the cavernous halls of her kingdom. Her long, silvery hair cascades down her back, intertwined with ornate accessories that signify her royal status. In her role as princess, Tenebrella strives to honor the traditions of her ancestors while leading her people into a future filled with promise. Despite the challenges that come with living in perpetual darkness, Tenebrella and her people have created a vibrant and thriving community, rich in culture and history.

[fgmelondy]

[relincreates]

[colostrumaiplus]

[zelly-raptor]

-THROW BACK THURSDAY!-

May-June 2024: Kidlitart Drawing challenge June 2024 day 01 - Glowing Cave.

This pic is also known as Adventures with Tiana Turbo fist part 02. So yes I'm doing the @kidlitart_drawing_challenge for June and I'm already 4 days behind... but that's ok as the challenge encourages you to draw at your own pace.

Tiana and Sundae enter the Cave and noticed that someone has installed Light bulbs to the cave walls causing the Glowing Algae that live in the cave to become Dull. Before entering the Cave our 2 heroes could hear Music but now everything has gone silent. The only noise that can be heard is the distance drips from a Stalactite.

[borizpixelarte]

VALDIVIESO. Rock band - cover illustration. Process . . #art #artist #digitalpainting #illustration #artwork #happy #sketch #beautiful #love #coreldraw #drawing #graphic #design #comics #digitalart #dark #cave #instaart #comicartist #guitar #creative #demonslayer #infinitepainter #infinitepainterapp #fun #work #cool #rock #metal #wip (en Colombia, Bucaramanga) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpgY3Vhp0WV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bellwings1234]

Crystal Cave.

I made a cave in the beginning and didn't find it fun enough. So I drew crystals, water, reflection etc...

This actually looks amazing!

[xoblondie]

The Forbidden Fruit

TW : 18+, stalkerish, dark!Mattheo, religious undertones, non-con content, prey/predator metaphors etc. Nothing is actually explicit but it’s all intended (HEAVY symbolism).

Temptation.

The cardinal sin that ravaged through his body, mimicking his blood flow. Taunting him with every movement you made. A war was ravaging inside Mattheo’s mind and body. A fight for control of his actions as he observed your every move.

A fight he was currently loosing, as he watched you amongst the crowd of your peers, moving seamlessly amongst them. Like you weren’t the only thing plaguing his mind no matter what he did. He couldn’t escape your fingers he found himself wrapped around. And you were completely oblivious to his unholy intentions and his lingering stares.

To him, you were as pure as powdered snow; you were soft, delicate and easy to fall into. Creating a mixture that made his mouth water with the thought of you. You were an elixir that he found himself hooked on, like an addict chasing a high.

To you, he was dark and corrupted. With bloodied knuckles and his teeth bared to the world, you knew he was bad news for you. His violence had no place amongst your peace, even if he had a peculiar place within your heart.

But what he wanted, he always got and he knew you were too innocent of heart to ever understand his underlying intentions. You were a lamb caught by a timber wolf. Purity that would be forcefully taken by a predator, no matter how much you fought back. A lamb would never grow up and grow the pointed canines it needed to protect its wool. And like a predator he would lure you away from the safety of your herd, into his sharp fangs.

In the later hours of the night, in a large leather chair perched by a fireplace, he watched your soft locks frame your face, accentuating the natural pout to your plump lips. You read your book as if it were an ancient text, showing you the answer to all your life’s questions. Your oversized sweater and tiny shorts struggling to cover the tops of your exposed thighs as you sat amongst the faded leather. Silky skin pooling against the existence of the fabric, accentuating your plump hips. The sight driving his primal urges to cave into his temptations.

His lamb was oblivious and vulnerable to the fate before them, as he closed in.

Stalking his lonesome prey, he would pin you down before biting your neck, leaving a reddened ring of his mouths artwork. Creating art out of you, all while you attempt to fight his lapse of control. He would eat your heart out. Ripping into it like a rich pomegranate, just trying to get to the fruitful seeds hidden beneath. And he would ignore as the juice stained his hands a bloody red, showcasing his corrupt actions. He would rip apart your ribs just to taste every part of your being. Drinking up your blood like cherry wine and kissing your lips as if they were the last thing he would ever taste in this life. The way he loved you was sacrilegious, an unholy tribute to the gods above.

He was godless in his actions, with roughened love and a darkness behind his fiery eyes. He burnt for you and only you. And you were a moth to his light, sacrificing yourself to his ritual as he tore away what was once pure.

Falling for his temptation was never your plan, but you became more and more addicted to his drug with every hit. No god could save you from the starving wolf as it striked down its prey.

You were his forbidden fruit, the lust he could never control. He would be bound to your soul forever, alike Persephone to the underworld. For your beauty was worth the mess he made of you. Destroying your light, to fulfill his dark sins and desires.

A/N: im afraid I ate with this one. LITERALLY. this is definitely a different writing style than what I normally do but I’m in LOVE with how this turned out <3

[tallulah477]

Pretty, But Not Stupid

Extra of Hunting the Tawtute

Kinkmas Day 10: Breath Play

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Breath Play, Choking, Size Difference, Alien Genitalia, Oral (male receiving), P in V, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Scenting, Mention of knots (but no knotting yet), Slight threesome (and Dark!Neteyam), Mentions of death/dead bodies, Reader is not having a good time (although idk...i think she’s having a great time), Mentions of war

A/N: Guess who’s back, besties!! Been MIA, slacking on prompts, and about to lose my fucking mind with all my family around, but I somehow got this done and I’m about to read as many fics as I can before someone else demands my attention.

A/N 2: This was not intended to be a full Part 2 yet, but it's way too long to be called a drabble. So I’m calling it an extra for now until I decide what to call it lmao. Hope y’all like it 🧡

A/N 3: DEDICATED TO @oakbuggy AND THEIR AMAZING ARTWORK (Everyone stop reading and go look at their art rn, all of them are god-tier but the one for Hunting the Tawtute definitely holds a special place in my heart. Thank you again, Buggy! You're amazing!)

Summary: With their father’s impending retirement as Olo’eyktan, Neteyam has more responsibilities to the clan and less time to see his favorite human. Thankfully, Lo’ak is there to pick up the slack.

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

Translations:

Vrrtep - Demon

Tawtute - Human

Sevin - Pretty

Palulukan - Apex predator resembling a lion or panther

(Mountain) Banshee/Ikran - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Mawey - Calm

Narlor - Beautiful

Tam tam - Calm, be content, there there

Srane - Yes

Yawne - Beloved

Paskalin - Sweet berry (term of endearment)

Their father is stepping down as clan leader - at least that’s what Lo’ak tells you when he comes to visit you in the isolated hut the brothers have set up for you on the side of a cliff face. It was for your own protection, they told you. You couldn’t stay in the village yet, their father would never allow it, and you clearly couldn’t be trusted not to run away if they built you something on the forest floor. 

“Tawtutes with their tiny brains are stupid,” Neteyam had sneered as he hauled your combined weight up the cliff side. Your arms locked around his neck tightly, legs wrapped around his lithe torso as your eyes squeezed shut, determined not to look at the insane height you were being pulled to. “You might think to run away and then become the next meal of a hungry Palulukan.”

“Nah, bro,” Lo’ak said, the grin on his face audible in his teasing words as he climbed up the cliff behind you, ready to catch you if you decided to end it all right there and try your hand at plummeting to your death, no doubt. “Our little vrrtep would never run from us. Right, sevin?”

The hut they built for you was as cozy as it could be. Assembled further into the cave and away from the treacherous cliff side, thick material wrapped around sturdy posts to keep out any harsh weather that the cave itself couldn’t keep out. They’d given you plenty of blankets, assuring you that even though your human nose can’t smell it, their scent is all over them.

“To keep you smelling like us, when we can’t be here to do it ourselves.”

But they’re always around, day after day they come for you. Lo’ak grinning a deceivingly sweet smile and Neteyam’s amber eyes burning holes into your face as they grab at you, pulling you towards them as they all but rip off the loincloth and chest covering they gave you, baring your marked up body to their hungry gazes. They spread you open, fucking you and fucking you until you’re a crying overstimulated mess, drooling and teary under your mask as they fill you up. 

They know exactly how to touch you, where to press, where to rub, where you’re most sensitive. They learned how to play with your body better than you could ever know how, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling, exhausted body until your left limp and they’ve decided they’ve had enough for the day. 

Your body still struggles to take their cocks (although they love to tell you that you were made for it - “made to be our little cocksleeve”). Your only saving grace is that they’re still not sure if they can knot you. They’ve gotten close to trying, instincts desperate to push that large ball of tissue at the base of their cocks inside your already stuffed to the brim pussy. You feel how they test the resistance, pushing juuuusttt a little deeper, the swollen knot stretching you even farther than you ever thought you could stretch before they back off. 

When they fill you full of their cum, it’s with their own hand squeezing tightly around the knot. 

Usually, it’s both of them. This time, you’re shocked to see only Lo’ak climbing over the edge of the cliff. 

“Neteyam sends his regrets,” Lo’ak says, kneeling down to wrap his arms around your body and press his face into your neck. His flat nose presses against your rapidly increasing pulse point and breathes in your scent. “He said to tell you that he’s sorry he won’t be able to visit you today, but that he’ll make sure to come see your pretty face and fill your tight pussy tomorrow.”

Your face flushes hot at his words, shivering when his nose slides up to nudge just behind your ear, but you stay silent. 

“But that’s good news for me,” He continues. “Because that means I get you all to myself for tonight.”

Neteyam isn’t coming to visit you today because their father is stepping down as clan leader, which means increased training, more hours at council meetings, and less time to sneak off with his captive human. 

“What does that mean?” You can’t help but ask. Lo’ak’s hands smooth down your sides, large palms dragging over your bare skin until they’re squeezing your ass. Your voice cracks at the feel, but you push on, your eyes doing their best to keep contact with his bright amber ones. “Your father stepping down? What does that . . .” 

What does that mean for me?

“Nothing you have to worry about right now,” He says.

Without warning, he stands, pulling you with him so your legs wrap around his torso as he supports you with a hand on your ass. A loud yip rips from his throat, echoing through the cave as he walks you both towards the cliff’s edge. The responding roaring shriek makes you cower against him as the large dragon-like animal lands on the platform behind you, wings flapping hard against the wind. 

“We’re going on an adventure,” Lo’ak says as he walks you closer to the banshee. You whimper, arms locking around his neck so tight you’d think you would be choking him if you could think straight. But you’re not, head whipped around staring wide eyed at the monstrous creature as it turns its head sideways to stare back at you. 

“Lo’ak, no,” You beg through gritted teeth, but he ignores you as he approaches the banshee, his hand settling lovingly on its snout. 

“Mawey,” he coos, carefully rubbing along the blue leathery skin on the banshee’s snout, but you’re not sure if he’s trying to calm the large animal or you. “Mawey, narlor,”

“Lo’ak, no,” You plead, still clinging to his upper body. Tears pool in your eyes and a panicked whimper escapes your lips when you feel the puffing breath of the mountain banshee on your back. “Please, please, no!”

But you’re ignored again, even when your body goes rigid at the feel of that rounded snout pressing against the curve of your spine, hot exhales practically burning your skin as the banshee sniffs at you. Fuck, fuck–you could die. Right now, you could die in a second, that snout pressing into your skin could disappear, replaced with dual rows of long curved teeth that would take only a second to open and bite down and rip you clean in half. 

You can hear the smile in Lo’ak’s voice from where your mask is digging into his collarbone, his soft murmurs of encouragement loud even through your terrified thoughts. “Srane, tam tam. Look at my two beautiful girls, getting along so well.”

He moves swiftly, not leaving room for any more pleading as he bonds with his banshee and climbs on, bringing your clinging body with him. The rush of air as the large animal takes flight makes you squeeze Lo’ak tighter, desperate for safety as you feel the wind bat at your back as the banshee cuts through the sky like a bullet from a gun. 

“Is this all it takes for you to cling to me, sevin?” Lo’ak teases as he rests a secure hand on your trembling figure, all five fingers spread so wide that they nearly span the entirety of your back. “A little ikran ride and I get you all cuddled up, nice and close?”

You ignore his dig, teeth clenching together as you fight to find your voice around the wind rushing around your ears. “W-where are we going?”

Lo’ak nudges his chin against the top of your head. “You’ll see,”

The flight feels like hours. Hours of watching miles and miles of trees and forest thousands of meters below from over Lo’ak’s shoulder. Logically, you know you’re exaggerating. It hasn’t been hours, and even though you’re still high enough to die as a splat on the ground if you were to fall, it's probably not as high as it feels. But heights have never been your friend, and frankly, neither has time management. 

It’s only when the banshee lowers to the ground and Lo’ak dismounts, depositing you on your own two unsteady feet, that you realize where he’s brought you on your ‘adventure’. 

Your mouth opens in horror at the remains of your old home. The RDA outpost, a once tall and strong fortress that housed the lives of hundreds of humans, now practically nothing more than a heap of rubble. The walls once meant to provide safety to those within them have crumbled down, victims of their own explosives used against them by the enemy. Debris lines the paved ground, thick boulders and metal platings that were once walls, bullet shells glinting in the sunlight. There’s a few AMP suits scattered around the battlefield - you can’t see inside them from your vantage point, and you’re terrified of what you might see if you get too close. 

“This way, tawtute,” Lo’ak says, reaching for your hand, but you yank it away before he can grab it. 

“No,” You say, but the firmness in your voice is overshadowed by the shakiness. “No, I’m not going in there.”

“Yes, you are,”

Another headshake. “No,”

Quick as lightning, his hand shoots out and grabs the bottom of your mask, gripping on the valve at the bottom as he bends down so his face is level with yours.

“Demon,” He growls, fangs on display for just a moment. A warning. “You are pretty, but not stupid. You do as I say.”

Fear claws at your throat and your hands immediately latch onto his wrist, silently begging for him to not pull your mask off. He never does, and neither does Neteyam. Not as a punishment at least. When they use your mouth, there’s always a warning - a “hold your breath, yawne,” before the air is cut off from your lungs and your mouth is full of alien cock. But the fear never leaves, the possibility is always there at the forefront of your mind, and you cling to his wrist like the lifeline it is. 

Lo’ak’s face softens at your expression, grip loosening from your mask as his hand slides to cup the back of your neck. “You know I would never hurt you. You need to trust me,”

Hesitantly, you shake your head again. You’re pushing your luck, you know it. But you’ve learned Lo’ak is the more lenient of the brothers and will tolerate more ‘disobedience’ than Neteyam will. “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can. Nothing in there will hurt you. If anyone is left in there, they’re dead,”

And that’s the problem. The terror of facing the place where life as you knew it was ended in a heartbeat. If there’s still people in there, people you once knew, people you talked to, some people who were good, lying on the ground . . . lifeless . . .

In the end, it’s not a choice. Lo’ak sighs, pulling you back in his arms and cradling you to his chest like a toddler. You sniffle, eyes sliding shut, determined to not watch as he walks you towards the remains of the outpost. 

It’s hard to admit, but being carried by the brothers can be really soothing if you let it. They move swiftly, with grace and confidence in every step, careful not to jostle you despite the usually uneven terrain of the forest. It’s even smoother now as Lo’ak walks across the flat pavement of the base. If you close your eyes, it can almost feel like you’re floating.

There’s a loud chu-chunk sound followed by the rapid hiss of air and the loss of sunlight behind your closed lids. You open your eyes to see that Lo’ak has found a still intact entrance, the airlock working to adjust the oxygen levels to whatever lies beyond the interior door. He smiles when the pressure stabilizes, opening the door and stepping into the inside of the base. This time, he doesn’t warn you when he pulls off your mask, the sound of escaping air hitting your ears, but you don’t choke. Instead you can breathe, deep complete breaths without the need for a mask covering your face. 

Lo’ak wastes no time nuzzling his face against yours, sliding his cheek across every new inch of face and neck that he can comfortably reach, a deep content rumble vibrating through his chest. 

Scenting you. 

“I can smell you,” He whispers, lips pressing against your cheek. “Not just you right now, but where you were, where you’ve been, here, within these walls.”

“W-what?”

His feet carry him, guided by an old scent that you can hardly believe is here after so long. But it is, it has to be - you know the journey, have walked it hundreds of times during your time on Pandora, but you can’t imagine that Lo’ak would. You don’t think he ever went inside the outpost during the attack. He shouldn’t know that it's the second hallway instead of the first, shouldn’t know it’s two left turns and one right, and that your door is the 3rd on the left. But he does. 

He even knows which bed was yours and which was your roommate’s, only confirmed when he drops you down onto the thin RDA issued mattress against the far side wall. You land with a yelp, bouncing slightly from the force of the drop, but your noise of surprise is cut off by Lo’ak’s lips against yours.

“Stupid humans,” He growls against your lips. “Can't even breathe air without help. Wish I could teach you, so I wouldn’t have to go without your pretty lips on mine every day.”

You whine into the kiss, his big lips nearly twice the size of yours as they capture your mouth completely. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s the first time you can breathe while it happens. 

He pulls away after a few more kisses, his breathing shallow as he reaches for something tied to his loincloth. It’s only then that you see the CO2 mask that’s been attached to his hip this whole time. He pulls the cross strap around his body, the mask hanging low on his chest and the CO2 canister hanging around his hip. He brings the mask to his face with one hand, taking in a few deep breaths, while the other hand works at the ties on his loincloth. 

The material of his covering falls to the ground and he drops the mask in favor of gripping your chin, thumb rubbing soothingly across your cheek. 

“Someone wants to play with you,” He purrs. “Be a good girl and invite him out, okay?”

Your breathing is shaky as you rise up on the bed, knees pressing into the mattress as you come face to face with the flat plane hiding Lo’ak’s cock. His hand moves to the back of your head, guiding you forward until your lips press against the smooth space between his thighs. 

Experience has you knowing what to do now, how to hold onto his thighs with both hands to keep yourself steady as you pepper gentle kisses along the hidden slit. Lo’ak tips his head back at the feel of your tongue sliding along the seam, little teasing kitten licks against the engorging slit that are always from him demanding them, demanding the slower teasing buildup, rather than you being coy. 

He pushes your face harder against him, hissing a ‘yeah, good girl. Like you fucking mean it,’ as he urges you to lick him deeper. When his slit opens, puffy and dripping, you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips as the sweet taste of his slick coats your tastebuds. It controls your body, whatever is in the slick. You feel it, making your body heat up, making you want things you definitely don’t - and you’re in the thick of it now, no mask or breathing breaks to cut whatever effects it usually has on you. It sets your body on fire now, making your thighs clench together as wetness pools in your core, and your brain fuzzes as the first touch of Lo’ak’s cock teases your lips as it starts to slip past the slit. 

You don’t know how long he keeps you there, sucking his cock. He’s dragging it out, taking advantage of the rare opportunity he has now of you without your mask. He drags your mouth along his cock, staring down at you with hooded eyes and letting you suckle gently on the lavender tip. Sometimes he’ll growl, pushing you down harder on his length just to hear you gag when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Other times he’ll pull you off completely, twisting your head so that your lips wrap around his girth from the side, before sliding you slowly back and forth along his length, tongue running over each and every bump and barb along the hot cerulean skin, the bright bioluminescent freckles decorating his cock practically shining under the layer of slick and saliva. 

When he’s finally used you to tease himself enough, he pushes you back flat on the bed, large hands wrapping around your calves and pulling you closer so your ass is just barely hanging off the side. You whimper when he pulls your legs apart, ripping the soaked loincloth from your body, hungry amber eyes staring at your swollen, wet cunt.

“Such a pretty girl,” He moans. The tip of his cock slides along your folds, nudging against your clit before sliding back down and positioning at your entrance. “You ready?”

Your brain is fuzzy and your clit is throbbing, hole clenching with the need to be filled. You close your eyes, looking away from his intense gaze - you don’t want it, you try to remind yourself, you don’t, he’s making you. But a swift smack on your thigh makes your eyes fly open again, Lo’ak’s hard gaze seeming to cut into your very soul.

“Say it, demon. Wanna hear you say it,”

A small cry escapes your lips, body unconsciously trying to bear down on his cock even as you shake your head. He shifts forward just the tiniest bit, lavender tip just barely pressing against your drooling hole enough for it to start to stretch before stopping again. 

“‘Need you, Lo'ak,” he recites, brow cocked, expecting you to repeat it. “Say it.”

“Fuck!” Is what comes out instead - a whiny, frustrated curse, that has your eyes tearing up again and Lo’ak’s ears pinning back against his skull.

His hand is quick to wrap around your throat, fingers digging into the blood vessels at the side of your neck as he hisses down at you. Your hands wrap around his wrist again, fingernails digging in and no doubt leaving red crescent shaped marks in the blue skin. He’s not squeezing your neck, not crushing your windpipe out of anger. You can breathe, the gulping breaths your gasping for are making it into your lungs, but the fingers pressing into the blood vessels make it feel like you can’t. Your head is clouding again, fuzzing like TV static, vision going blurry as his hand doesn’t relent. 

“Fine,” He grunts. “You don’t wanna talk? Don’t.”

You want to scream when he pushes forward, cock bullying its way past your entrance and inside you, stretching you and filling you up. It’s slow and torturous as he fills you impossibly full, the barbs along his length scraping ruthlessly against your slick walls. He sighs, ears flicking in pleasure as your heat envelopes him, stretching around his girth so perfectly he swears you were made for him. 

You can feel the bulge in your belly, the pressure disappearing and reappearing again as he begins to move inside of you. Long, purposeful strokes meant as a punishment, meant to make you feel every agonizingly blissful inch of him as he fucks into your soaked cunt, harder and harder with each thrust. Your mouth moves trying to form words, sound fleeting save for the barely there whispers of ‘fuck’, ‘oh my god’, and ‘please’. Lo’ak hears them anyway, leaning down to silence you with a filthy kiss. His hips pound against yours, unrelenting in their mission to completely fuck the soul of your body, and the sound of slapping skin against skin mix with Lo’ak’s groans and your barely audible breathy whines. 

Lo’ak’s fingers find their way to your swollen clit, rubbing persistently at the sensitive nub until you're crying into his mouth, thighs trying desperately to close together but can’t because of his body between them. The thick press of his knot against your entrance is what pushes your oversensitive body over the edge.

At the first suffocating clench of your pussy around his cock, Lo’ak releases your throat letting all the air it felt like you weren’t getting back into your lungs in a rush of oxygen. You gasp, crying against his lips as you arch up against him, creaming pussy fluttering around him as you cum on his cock. He growls when your teeth latch onto his bottom lip, blunt teeth digging in enough to draw blood, but the way he immediately grabs your hips, shoving his knot against you as hard as he would dare without actually penetrating you, tells you that it was a lust filled growl this time, not an angry one. 

He moans when he spills himself inside you, face pressed against your neck as he fills you up. You swear it feels almost scorching hot, heating you up from the inside and then out as it spills from around Lo’ak’s still buried cock and runs down the curve of your ass and onto the bed sheets. 

Someone clears their throat from behind Lo’ak, and you gasp at the sudden sound, frantically trying to look around Lo’ak’s hulking body to see who it is. 

Lo’ak sighs, undisturbed by sudden intrusion, even going as far as rolling his eyes before slowly pulling out of your used cunt - more of his cum spilling out onto the bed now that he’s not still inside you to keep it in. “Wasn’t expecting you today, bro,”

Your eyes widen when he moves out of the way, revealing a smug looking Neteyam in the doorway, still very much dressed up in his warrior’s gear. 

“I had to make time to see our pretty little demon,” Neteyam says, bright amber eyes sweeping over your exhausted form. He crosses the room with three long strides, one knee pressing into the bed as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “That was a nice show. I know you’re tired, paskalin,”

His eyes meet yours, amber irises practically swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils. A hand presses against your belly, sneaking down towards your oversensitive pussy, his pointer finger reaching out to tap against your clit as you whine. 

“But it’s really not fair that you smell more like Lo’ak than me now, is it?”

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @pandoraslxna @avatarwifey

[possumnest]

HELLO ART LOVERS!

💸🦢 you can NOW exchange money for beautiful artworks by ME, TODAY!! to request a commission, email me at POSSUMNEST7@GMAIL.COM and we can talk about what you want me to draw and how much it will be!

prices will vary depending on complexity, color, and how familiar i am with drawing the subject! minimum is $45 for simple lineart of a single subject. see examples for pricing estimates, and email me if you have questions!

my favorite subjects to draw, if you want ideas; weird birds, cave-art inspired animals, abstract compositions of multiple subjects, specific bugs, fishies, morbid concepts, homages to a species, life cycles, non-human apes, skeletons, unique plants, fungi, vultures, realistic nature backgrounds, mold, colerful creatures, bugs with bad reputations, city animals, dinosaurs, faux stamps

**please don't request pet portraits, humans, or mechanical subjects

payment up front via venmo - if venmo isn't available for you, alternatives are available 💸

[uchihaharlot]

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

[astolfofo]

Trigger warning: Body transformation (nonconsensual forced plastic surgery), implied thoughts about noncon, dollification, degrading, yandere. You get the drill.

argenti x reader

Honestly I think like argenti would be a nightmare as a yandere. Like he's not the most manipulative or the most violent it's just... degrading to be with him.

He's kind sure, he's a good person. He has morality. But there's just something... something that's not human when it comes to you. While usually well-practiced in self-restraint, and well-disciplined when it comes to caving to his own body's desires. It's just so unfortunate you were met with the opposite side of him.

He's self-contradictory.

He tells you you're beautiful, yet you can't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore. You don't know who you are. Your face... it isn't the same. It looks different. Sure, you look stunning, gorgeous, even. Almost doll-like.

He told you that you were beautiful. Made your flesh into glass and porcelain.

He said your beauty rivaled those of the gods. And multilated your face into something else. Something better, yet unrecognizable.

Your old clothes were gone. When he had took you in (if you can even call it that (much to your displeasure which was actually kidnapping)) your entire wardrobe had gone with it. All your collared shirts, jackets, skirts, pants--- you name it. It was gone. A new wardrobe had been given to you.

An expensive wardrobe filled with extravangant outfits that were supposed to catch your form perfectly. Custom-made. Perfect for your body. You wonder how much he spent on it. None of the outfits were really something you would wear. It was more like a craftman's signature. A collar. The clothes, the face. You. All to tell others you belonged to him.

You had no say over your basic anatomies anymore.

You wondered if all of this was simply some sort of weird thing he had going on. In fact you had asked him before, but he ignored you. Your protests always fell to deaf ears. He knew the best for you. He always did. You didn't know yourself at all. This was good for you.

To him, you were a blank canvas. A piece of art that's good, but not perfect. And he wasn't just going to fix the small errors. He'd paint his own. His own artwork on top of the finished one.

You're just glad he hasn't been initating on whatever thoughts he might have about this. And you were certain it was only a matter of time before you were subjected to them.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Seven

Series Masterlist

CW: None

The week followed with Evelyn covering Andras' petrol at the borders, most of the time carrying food for the sentries, thankfully she hadn't seen Rhysand since that day.

Evelyn continued to fulfil her duties around the estate while simultaneously missing her mate. Her thoughts drifted back to their encounters in dreams often, providing some semblance of comfort amidst her loneliness.

She pet Rose's mane as she pulled her to a stop again, in front of a cave near the Spring manor, she waved a hand and the vines covering the entrance disappeared, she then used her magic to light the candles, walking in on foot.

The cave was lit up by magic, with many pieces of parchment lying around, some hung on wooden made stands, some lay on a table made from rock, all of them had something or the other drawn on them, and a box of charcoal at the centre.

Evelyn's gaze scanned over the various sketches scattered across the room. Each one depicted different scenes, landscapes, animals, people, but none quite like the ones that occupied her own mind now.

A pair of entwined figures caught in a passionate embrace. She could almost imagine it was her and her mate, lost in their own world.

A pang of longing gripped her heart as she remembered his promises. She would hold onto them, even if reality kept dragging them apart.

She picked up a piece of charcoal and turned to a new piece of parchment, hand gliding over the paper, letting her emotions flow through her onto the paper.

Each stroke of charcoal brought him closer to life, as did each smudge from her finger, but also served as a painful reminder of how far apart they remained in reality.

As Evelyn worked diligently on a new piece, her imagination ran wild. Each stroke of the charcoal felt like an extension of her longing, pouring all her yearning for her absent mate onto canvas. Hours passed before she finally looked up from her work with satisfaction. Standing back from the drawing, she admired it, the art poured straight from her imagination.

Evelyn stepped closer to examine the finished artwork more closely. The scene depicted her and her mate standing together, hands intertwined, surrounded by lush foliage and vibrant flowers. Their faces were turned towards each other, lost in a shared gaze filled with love and devotion.

In the background, the silhouette of a grand castle loomed, symbolizing their future together. The overall effect was mesmerizing, capturing the essence of their bond perfectly. Evelyn couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over her. This drawing was more than just art, it was a tangible representation of their love story waiting to unfold.

With a flick of her wrist, Evelyn cast a preservation spell over the newly completed artwork, ensuring its beauty and detail would remain unchanged for generations.

Evelyn carefully rolled up the drawing, securing it within a protective sleeve. With a satisfied sigh, she placed it safely inside one of her storage boxes. She knew this particular piece held special significance for her, encapsulating all the feelings she harbored for her elusive mate.

After tidying up the workspace, she used her magic once again to restore order throughout the cave. The flickering candles dimmed before extinguishing entirely, leaving nothing but darkness and the sect of red roses she had grown while working behind.

Evelyn stepped outside, her gaze immediately falling upon Rose grazing peacefully nearby. She gave a soft whistle to call the mare over, patting her affectionately as she approached.

"Let's head home," she murmured to herself, mounting Rose effortlessly. With a gentle kick of her heels, they set off towards the Spring Court Palace once more.

When Evelyn returned to the Palace, she made her way to the library, if her mystery mate was going to be visiting in her subconscious perhaps she could find something that told her what her dreams of him meant, since she'd almost never heard of dreaming about your mate.

As Evelyn entered the grand library, the scent of old books enveloped her. She wandered the aisles, running her fingers over the spines of the tomes, searching for anything that might provide insight into her mysterious mate and the nature of their connection.

What she came across was Feyre, admiring one of the many murals on the wall, looking at the one made by her. "What are you doing?"

Feyre jumped slightly, she'd been too enchanted by the mural, "Just... Looking at the art... I should go..."

"Wait," Evelyn said softly, and Feyre paused, "Would you like me to tell you about it?"

Evelyn watched as Feyre hesitated, torn between her desire to admire the mural and her instinctive feelings around Fae. "It's my favourite piece I've done."

"You paint?" Feyre asked, her excitement not hidden to Evelyn's eyes.

Evelyn chuckled, "No, well not with regular paints, I like doing glass murals and sketches with charcoal. This one, is after a legend... Or myth depending on what you believe in." Evelyn looked at the mural, of the Cauldron, a young female floating in its endless depths, a large sword in her hand, her body glowing softly.

"Tell me about it." Feyre finally said after a while, her eyes not leaving the mural.

"Well, it's said long ago, before the last and only High King ruled over all of Prythian, to defeat a monster he needed a powerful sword," Evelyn began, the memory of the time she had made that filling her head, "So, he went to the Priestesses and Acolytes who guarded and prayed to the Cauldron to ask for their help creating such a sword."

"But, the Cauldron chose to give him a daughter who would wield the sword as well with the offerings he had given to it, the male, Fionn, didn't want one," Evelyn sighed softy, remembering the story, "But the Cauldron gives what it gives, and Fionn had no choice but to call the female his daughter."

Feyre looked at the details of the murals, "So he was forced to have a daughter?"

"Yes, but he never truly resented her, some say he just wanted to use her powers, but nothing can be proven about it." Evelyn added, "She was the only creature ever born from the Cauldron, after Fionn became High King, she was regarded as the High Princess, but after a war where he was betrayed, the Princess and the Sword were both lost forever."

"The legend says that one day, when the land is threatened again and when the true need arises, the High Princess will return, to save Prythian from destruction," Evelyn finished, her gaze still fixed on the mural depicting the fabled princess and her blade growing in the Cauldron. "Some believe the Cauldron chose her for a reason, that she holds a vital role in the fate of our realm. While others believe this story is utter bullshit and there was no princess."

For a moment, they stood there in contemplative silence, lost in thought about the ancient tale and its possible connections to their own lives. Then, breaking the spell, Feyre glanced at Evelyn with curiosity. "And this is your favourite story?"

"Yes, I've read almost every myth and legend there is," Evelyn smiled, "I like to be up to date in my knowledge of it all. I find it really fascinating."

"I've... Never been into... Books." Feyre whispered hesitantly, and Evelyn did her the grace of not telling her Tamlin spilt to her about her illiteracy at least not exactly that.

"Well, you can always find easy to read books here if you want to start, nothing too tough." Evelyn shrugged, "I learned to read by myself from these books. I could tell you where they are."

Feyre looked surprised, "You taught yourself to read?"

Evelyn sighed, "Well, yeah... The royal females, like myself were taught at a later age than the males back when I was young, but I was never really a fan of falling behind my brothers so I took it upon myself to read and write, by the time I was 10, when my education would begin, I already knew more facts and myths than my brothers did."

Feyre simply looked surprised, "That's so impressive..." She looked away slightly, "My mother never hired anyone to teach us, she would ignore me completely and only taught my sisters, when we lost our fortune, my sisters thought we were above village schools, so I was never taught."

Evelyn's eyes softened, she wrapped a hand around Feyre's shoulder, walking her with her, "Then you just haven't been taught, not that you have some sort of shortcoming that you can't, you've never been given a chance."

"I..." Feyre froze at the word and Evelyn realised that shortcoming wasn't something she should've said.

"I'm so sorry, please stay," Evelyn was quick to apologize before Feyre could say a thing or run away, "I shouldn't have said that. You must feel horrible enough as it is."

"It's... It's not your fault," Feyre managed, Evelyn noted that the girl had been trying to be less cold these days, at least to her and Lucien, "You couldn't have known the things I've been told about it."

"Don't sell yourself short no matter what anyone else says, Feyre," Evelyn replied gently. "You've overcome so much already. And you're strong, clever, and sometimes kind. Those are traits that serve you well in life, regardless of whether you can read or not."

"Thank you, Evelyn," Feyre's voice wavered, but she managed a small smile. "You've been very kind to me."

Evelyn squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I mean every word. Now, how about we can start with something simple and fun, picking up a thick book with boring things is the worst way to learn, that damn book is the worst children's book, I don't even understand why Tamlin has it around, this is supposed to be fun, and I want to search for something anyway."

Feyre nodded, looking a bit more hopeful. Together, they wandered through the shelves, Evelyn pointing out titles with engaging illustrations and straightforward storytelling. She read them aloud and had Feyre say them after her, if she didn't get any word Evelyn broke it down to make it easier to read and pronounce.

"Here it is, myths and legends," Evelyn smiled, pulling out the book from her childhood, Feyre read the title after her.

"What are you looking for anyway?" Feyre asked as they both made their way to the place Feyre had sat before, Evelyn watched Feyre crumble up a piece of paper and throw it in a nearby bin but didn't say a thing.

Evelyn skimmed through the index, looking for what she needed, she wondered if she should tell Feyre about her dreams but chose against it, "Just wanting to revisit an old tale from my young days."

Evelyn found it under a myth, as she opened the book to the mentioned page, the yellowed pages crackled with age. Feyre leaned in closer, watching as Evelyn's fingers delicately turned the pages. Finally, they stopped at a page with an intricate illustration of a female sleeping, surrounded by a dreamlike landscape, in the sketch of the dream she was with her lover, the artist had made a point to give a blur to the dream. Evelyn pointed to the words below, reading aloud in a soothing voice. "In the depths of slumber, the heart reveals its deepest desires. Sometimes, it even shows us glimpses of those meant to be by our side, our bonded mate, the one the Cauldron and The Mother bond with us, our perfect match."

Feyre listened intently, eyes going over the words as she sounded them out after her, her eyes scanning the illustration as Evelyn continued to read further "It is believed that if a fae is stong enough, during sleep, the mind travels to realms unseen, encountering visions of the future and echoes of the past. In these dreamscapes, the soul may encounter its other half, the one who completes it, the person who shares its essence. This connection, though ethereal, is no less real. When two souls recognize each other in this way, a bond stronger than steel is forged, binding them together across lifetimes." Evelyn always remembered to pause for Feyre to catch up in her repeating, saying some words slower, and pronouncing syllable by syllable to make it easier for her.

They had a quiet moment of comfort before Tamlin made his appearance and Evelyn excused herself, mumbling about some business she had to do.

Evelyn sighed, sitting in Lucien's bed, hearing him rant about his half of the north border, she had a tub of ice cream in her hand, with cake crumbs all over it, eating the sweet treat as Lucien changed his clothes, both of them could hear Tamlin and Feyre talk downstairs, much to their displeasure at another of their arguments.

"Ugh, I swear I don't understand why the human gets upset!" Lucien exclaimed, throwing his shirt onto the floor, and unzipping his breeches. "She's just so sensitive!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her ice cream. "Sensitive? That's rich coming from..."

Lucien shot her a look. "Hey, I'm just stating facts! Feyre's always crying about something, the food, the decor, the fact that Tamlin breathes. It's exhausting, try going on a hunt with her everyday. I should be glad I haven't lost my mind."

"Please, I thought Lucien knew the way to charm all females," Evelyn teased, "Don't tell me little ol' Feyre has gotten under your skin"

Lucien snorted, "Charm? Please, I've got Feyre wrapped around my finger. But that doesn't mean I enjoy dealing with her."

Evelyn chuckled, licking a drip of ice cream off her finger. "Maybe she just needs someone to show her what true happiness feels like."

Lucien raised an eyebrow, and climbed into his bed beside her, taking the spoon out of her mouth, he dipped it back into the ice cream, taking some for himself, "And who might that be, pray tell?" He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because I know for a fact that Tamlin certainly isn't doing the job."

"Well, he better if we need these off..." Evelyn tapped the fox mask that was stuck to Lucien's face.

Evelyn sighed, nudging him with her elbow. "I think it's time we meddling."

"Meddling?" Lucien scoffed, taking another scoop of ice cream. "I'm so glad you brought that up, we've barely scratched the surface of meddling here. Just wait until you see what I have planned for them."

"Lucien..." Evelyn sat up, "What... Are you planning?"

Lucien grinned mischievously, leaning in close to whisper conspiratorially. "Oh, just a little surprise to bring Feyre and Tamlin closer together. Something to break the ice, so to speak."

He winked playfully, clearly enjoying the idea of orchestrating a coup for his friend. "Trust me, it'll work. I've studied human courtship rituals extensively. I know exactly what buttons to press to get them falling for all over each other."

"You studied humans?" Evelyn snorted, "What pray tell, did you learn?"

"Well, it's easire for two people to get closer when one saved the other," Lucien smirked, "So, perhaps I'll turn one of them into a damsel in distress."

"That sounds… Interesting," Evelyn mused, twirling the spoon idly between her fingers. "But won't that just put Feyre in danger?"

"Nonsense," Lucien dismissed, "I promise not to let anything happen to the human."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Evelyn arched an eyebrow sceptically, eyeing him closely.

"By you doing it," Lucien opened his mouth, waiting for her to give him a spoonful of ice cream, but she didn't, just looked at him expectantly, Lucien sighed, taking some for himself, "What? You're way better at the mother henning shit."

"Mother henning?" Evelyn chuckled. "Fine, fine. But you owe me big time, Lucien."

"I already have a plan to set in motion," Lucien shrugged, leaning forward to kiss over the bridge of her nose covered by her own mask, "You go back to your room, doveling."

Evelyn gave Lucien a last sceptical look but then nodded, slipping out of his bed, and retiring to her own.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut}

Blooming Flowers Taglist - @theskyisbrighthere @mybestfriendmademe @yeonalie

[relincreates]