#learn to be a semi-functioning human

[bellaaldamas]

@stupidrant this is the official, SMS approved (hopefully) gif everyone should use whenever they encounter a fandom troll.

[jeanbie]

FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint. 

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar. 

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach. 

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life. 

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion. 

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals. 

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood. 

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

“I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that. 

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink. 

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks. 

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief. 

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom. 

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown. 

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little too eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too. 

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him. 

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises. 

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you. 

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive. 

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them. 

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well. 

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing. 

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping. 

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him. 

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him. 

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist. 

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally. 

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you. 

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown. 

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.” 

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach. 

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile. 

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight. 

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum. 

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister. 

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell. 

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach. 

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern. 

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise. 

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan. 

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs. 

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous. 

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner. 

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift. 

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment. 

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin. 

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you. 

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance. 

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years. 

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice. 

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you’re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected. 

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring. 

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand. 

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with. 

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your hips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee. 

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry. 

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting. 

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself. 

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more. 

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum. 

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes. 

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more. 

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly. 

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece. 

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too. 

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip. 

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him. 

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth. 

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside. 

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas. 

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost. 

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly. 

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons. 

“Mm. Please — come on, please—!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise. 

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark. 

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip. 

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid. 

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far. 

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head. 

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true. 

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—”

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice. 

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on. 

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you. 

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level. 

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed. 

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his. 

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs. 

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily. 

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him. 

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs. 

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime. 

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you. 

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says. 

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind. 

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily. 

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh. 

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. 

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you. 

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view. 

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you. 

Right. 

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises. 

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge. 

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light. 

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time. 

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear. 

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special. 

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

[doubledeadstudio]

So, you guys are probably curious… What is the future of Reanimated Heart in its current state?

I've been quiet about this for a while because I wanted to get a bulk of my work done. Considering I'm working on the last and final Chapter One update, I am now formally announcing that the whole of Chapter One will still be uploaded in public for free.

Considering harassment issues I've experienced, however, I will only be doing it when Chapter One is fully wrapped up. That means that it'll be after the next update and after a final polish. I'm uncertain when I'll be done with all this, but my hope is to put it up in December on the same date the initial demo was posted.

After that, what then?

When I initially created Reanimated Heart, it was with the intent that it was going to be a very longform, serialized thing.

For context, before I started getting into game dev, I was a freelance artist with a background on Language and Literature. I did my best to post art to please an algorithm, but my true passion was writing. I wanted to write stories and novels, but the exhaustion of drawing and vying for some sort of online influence was draining to me.

I concluded that this type of work flow was 1) Psychologically damaging and unnatural, and 2) ultimately, unsatisfying.

Even when I had pieces that would do well, it didn't make me feel good because my heart wasn't in it because I had no time to make the things I wanted to make, I had no time to do what I actually wanted, which was to craft stories about my precious characters that I've had for years and were near and dear to my heart.

And then, I decided to create something that was, essentially, antithetical to this ritualistic pattern of clout chasing I've developed… and that was Reanimated Heart.

Given my background in Literature, I was very fixated on the concept of creating a "visual novel" in a serialized format, like how certain novels used to be published. (For example, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables is only as long as it is because it's a story told in a by chapter format over a long period of time.) I thought that, if visual novels were really to be novels too, then it should be allowed to function in a way novels used to.

I also had this belief that, despite the never ending barrage of corporate shortform content vying for the attention economy, there's always going to be a part of human beings that yearned for something personal, emotionally intricate, and created over a long period of time. People want to invest in something. They want to learn about characters and the settings they live in, follow elaborate plotlines, and watch mysteries unfold. At least when I immerse myself in stories, I want it to really grip my attention like nothing else and have it live in my mind like it has a home there. And so, when I decided to make the game, I decided to stay the course of my original intentions and publish it on a semi-regular basis, with enough content to justify the months of work. I have my update schedule to prove it.

After years of working on RH, my belief has been proven completely correct. More and more people discover it over the long time period, and many of them react like I thought they would… They want to know about the characters, the plot, and the lore. They want more length and more secrets to discover, and I'm more than happy to provide that.

And so, I'll be continuing this update schedule, just in Patreon until the base game's full release in different platforms because, like I said, as much as I want to provide this content for free, its costs and the constant harassment isn't enough to justify uploading it for free.

But, because I've chosen to do this format, I've been asked…

Is this just a grift to get people to invest in your Patreon?

I have been accused of this by many people, including some devs in the so-called "yandere" VN space. Let me make this very clear now…

I am losing more money making this game than not making it.

Before I decided to make this game, I had more time to focus on doing freelance work which earned me significantly more money on a monthly basis. By focusing on gamedev, I've lost a significant amount of my regular clients. Not only that, I also put a significant amount of the budget on other contractors (such as music from Claira, art from Tay, and voice actors) and I've also put other career prospects on pause.

So, why even make something that just loses me money and invites harassment from entitled "fans" anyway?

Passion, as lame as it sounds. This is something that I want to make and earnestly believe in, something that I'll be satisfied with making later in my life. With each update, I'm thrilled by how much the narrative blossoms on the screen as much as you are. I can't keep putting money incentive over my art, because I'll end up right back where I started, which is chasing a number either in followers or my bank account. This isn't even remotely about the money for me. I will keep making this until it finishes or I die randomly.

I want to make something I'm proud of for myself. Signing up for the Patreon is more just about ensuring I can make the highest quality of game possible.

Now that I've made my intentions clear, let me get to some FAQ…

I don't agree with this model you've chosen for the game. It still feels like a grift. How do we know you mean what you say?

Check my update schedule.

I've been consistent and I intend to continue being consistent. When I stop being consistent, then you should react like a responsible consumer and stop supporting the project. If I stop intending to upload, I will make a formal announcement here, in the page, and on Patreon anyway.

If you want the updates but don't want to pay me, there are ways of getting it for free by being active in the server community.

If you only want to pay full price for the game, then wait until it's done.

And if you really don't want to pay anything at all, then don't do it. I am not forcing you to pay anything.

Can I pay only when there's an update?

Yes, that's always allowed. No, I don't think that's scummy. Everyone should be able to do whatever they want with their money.

How long is the time period between updates?

My intent has always been 3-4 months between updates. Usually updates take me a month and a half to write, then a similar timeframe for assets and coding. There are also some stuff irl that I can't help, so I put that leeway there.

Will you let us Subscribe on other platforms?

Yes, but I'm still looking into it. I'm going to do research on what the best websites are for this. I'm going to be looking into Ko-Fi soon.

Will you still be making other games?

Yes! But their uploads will be random and sporadic.

I know there are a lot of people wondering about the drastic genre leaps with my other games (coughs Another Rose coughs), but my justification is that, while I view Reanimated Heart as the novel, my other games are more like… short stories. If you've ever read a Stephen King novel and then get shocked by how random his short stories are, well, that's about the same logic I have. My "other games" are less thoughtful, sprawling stories like Reanimated Heart, and more like experiments for me to break out of my shell and have fun. While some short stories get sequels, others don't. They're pretty non-committal.

Will you ever be opening Reanimated Heart's comment section again?

Yes, I will open it again when Chapter One is finished and uploaded. I only turned it off because people annoyed me so much that I didn't want to work on it. You guys can have discussions again when I'm not releasing updates publicly anymore.

...

I hope this puts a lot of your questions to rest. If there's more, send them to my Inbox and I will add them here.

[serpentface]

What does the yotici life cycle look like now?

Fairly similar, here's a generalized idea

I Did kind of drop the sessile+asexual polyp mobile+sexual fish alternating generations because it doesn't Really change anything besides sounding vaguely interesting. Fish reproduction is wild enough as-is.

Their eggs are laid in a stringy mass that requires a root to the sea floor (coral, tough kelps, rocks, sticks, etc) and light currents to keep them oxygenated. These egg masses are strong and can bend and sway fairly significantly without coming apart, but will be broken by strong currents and require a sheltered environment to survive. This is the basis of a Garden, an engineered ecosystem designed to protect the eggs, provide substantial and consistent nourishment for the young and resting places and shelter for adults, and additionally function as cultural and social centers.

Larvae are tiny and born with a yolk sac attached to sustain them. They metamorphose into a 'predatory' phase in which they feed on zooplankton and organic debris. These phases are tiny and poor swimmers, wholly reliant on the sheltered environment of the garden for safety and consistent food sources. Those swept out have very little chance of longterm survival. The VAST majority of yotici that hatch at all die in their larval stages.

Most of their anatomy is fully developed as a 'yotling', in which they are much stronger swimmers, school together, and are primarily predatory. Yotlings feed on plankton and other small animals, but their most important food source is their own species' eggs. This is a natural behavior for yotici, and much of the function of the garden is to provide this dependable, clustered food source for their young. The survival benefits of most of their reproductive output being sacrificed to these viable young with a fairly strong chance of survival vastly outweigh the loss, given the vast majority of yotici larvae who hatch to begin with die without ever reaching this phase. Yotlings have much lower mortality rates than the larvae, but a majority will die to predation. They're also frequent bycatch in fisheries and are widely eaten by landdwelling peoples. During the yotling phase, they're about 4-8 inches long.

Their beak starts to develop in the juvenile stage, during which they are 'weaned' out of predatory behavior and start consuming algae and marine plants. They instinctively school around adult yotici and follow them to food sources, usually eating algae that grows around the tougher foods the adults can handle. This tends to be the point in which active parental protection begins, but few yotici cultures conceptualize these juveniles as full people or develop personalized bonds with them, as their mortality rate is still fairly high. During the juvenile phase, they're about 8-14 inches long.

A yotici 'child' has all its base adult anatomy developed, including its tentacles, and looks like a miniature adult. They can eat tougher foods and join the adults in consuming seagrass. This is the point in which they are semi-equivalent to a human infant, rapidly learning and picking up on language and beginning to communicate. Fully active parental care and bonding will occur during this period (the Exact cultural marker of when this starts can vary) and they are conceptualized as people. Diminishingly few yotici actually survive to this phase, but those who do have a very good chance of lasting to adulthood. The child phase starts at about 1-2 ft in length.

At this point they grow steadily until sexual maturity, and will continue to grow (much, much more slowly) throughout the rest of their lives. Sexual maturity takes a VERY long time, usually about 20 years from hatching. An adult yotici generally ranges in size from 12-18 ft, with outstanding or very long lived individuals passing 25 (the World Record would be in the mid 30 ft range). A yotici who survives to reproductive adulthood has excellent chances at a long life, and yotici are by far the longest living sophonts. A lucky individual can crest 200 years.

[luonnon-varainen]

I had it in mind for a while already so I here are my thoughts and headcanon about Collie or rather the „bodily functions” of the eldritch god, here the "species" is archivist

There are some extra notes on doodles but oh boi the amount of typos there is unbearable x"d

Starting from the beginning and basic - the core:

The core is a semi-conscious substance of unknown molecular structure, if with any molecular structure, functioning as magic carrier/vector(similar to the ATP). It's a mystery whether it is really an elemental structure, a condensed energy or a form of electromagnetic waves beyond our current knowledge. In general it is said that core is pure celestial magic. It has many physical qualities of a fluid. The closest liquid to the core would be a Non-Newtonian fluid. It is a blackish, very sticky, dense liquid similar to pitch, which is highly sensitive and "reactive" to a electromagnetic field like ferrofluid. The core, most likely due to its structure and origin, is very unstable. Visible light exposure is enough to cause a spontaneous rapid reaction which ends with an explosion. Making existence on its own very unlikely. In case when the core happens to be sealed inside the archive - the semi-conscious body made of mostly gold, iridium, wolfram and glass, which contains all collected life forms - it creates what is known as an god, in this case an Archivist. This amalgamation allows to not only creat a stable form of both elements, but also develop an fully conscious eldritch, who is able to exist actively. Archivists possess almost full control over their core: shaping it, moving around, grabbing different objects with it, shielding themselves

The core is a more "human" side of an archivist. The element capable of adapting, blending, learning mortal structures both anatomical and social and rebuilding it to their own standards, experiencing emotions and many more. It plays the main role in defining what kind of person the archivist will be. Yet, the core is not equal to Archivists. It possess it's own "personality" and "opinions", similarly to the archive. Sometimes the core and the archivist are quite different and are working not very well with eachother. Situations like these are called "speaking" - a small part of core presents, usually visually, it opposing opinions against whole god's will. It's not harmful, just annoying and uncomfortable

The core is like a liquid - almost incompressible. It's quite an issue when you are a planet size entity who needs to shrink whole your body to be able to fill the archive and keep on existing, but also need to protect "guts" from exploding during day. The long, baggy robes come to aid in this case. Dresses, veils, hats, too puffed trousers and sleeves allows to hide quite a lot of the liquid from external conditions, by creating the precious shade, controlling the temperature amplitude and keeping it away from other liquids. Extra protection are given by their characteristic cloaks, which inner lining is a portal to the Grand Archive. The Grand Archive is a pocket dimensions away from intense light, where the core can be a bit safer and longer outside the capillary archive than usually. Also in order to work in an unwelcoming environment such as a planet, archivists developed a pulsating movement of the core. As the whole core cannot be at the same time in the archive, to prevent the destabilisation and consequently explosion, it is constantly flows through the body and around their closest surrounding. It's quite similar to the cytoplasmic movement around vacuoles in a plant cell or blood flow in Mollusca' s vascular system. The free flow of the core is the key reason why archivists avoid intense light and making them rather a "nocturnal" creatures

The core is inside the archive, where it's well secured and stabilised. However, there are many passages for the core to leave its shelter. These channels have no protection besides a thin membrane. They have a crucial role in an archivist's life as they are the doors to the inside of a god. All collected mortals eventually will end up inside the archive, but that requires a special spell that will reduce the mortal to smallest functional elements. Even smaller than the scrolls provide. That is possible thanks to these exact entrances. The mortal, whether in a scroll or not, will be pushed through one of those channels, encapsidated by the core, " dissolved" and placed inside one of bazillion capsules of the archive. It's unknown if the final archivisation is an painless process, but the truth is that it doesn't matter at this point - whoever was placed inside will stay there forever. The main passage are eye sockets-

The eldritch gods and deep sea creatures are extremely similar in terms of their adaptation to the environment, conserving energy idea and their life motto "eat or be eaten". So no wonder that archivists put a lot of effort to become the most efficient and effective as they could. The core shaped the archive to resemble intelligent life forms displaying a beautiful example of aggressive mimicry. As mortals are the most troublesome in terms of catching them without excessive energy loss. Looking like a young and lost in the forest nymph can really boosts chances of putting hand on curious mortals. After all who wouldn't try to figure out who the hell is this and why it's in my forest at 11 pm(at least I would, but I'm the natural selection's target for a while so I'm not the best example xd). Why go and chase when you can make them come to you. There are way more of the adaptations but it's more the archive than the core topic and I'm not writing it down today

A skilled archivist can use the surrounding matter, even quite reactive one like water, to temporarily shield the core or divide it and archive in order to create the "puppet - puppetmaster" form. A terrible thing to encounter on a long voyage or while wandering on the desert, especially if your specie decides to resist god's will-

[flagellant]

I remember you being something of a scholar on christian theology. I have a question if you don't mind. My tumblr is full of people clowning on american conservative catholics that are angry that the pope basically fired that bishop in Texas, and the tumblr posters saying "lol u disagree with the pope that makes you disagree w/ god's word" or "that makes u a protestant" etc etc.

And while I do enjoy dunking on the trad caths, I think I heard at some point that the pope isn't always talking with his authority as god's most special boy on earth. That most of the time he is just being a human and therefore could be wrong/make errors. Not that I care about the jerk bishop losing his job, but I'm curious, how do we know when the pope is or is not talking with the authority of God backing him up? Does he have to say a special phrase at the start and end of the speech, or hold both hands up above his head, or something?

Okay so what you're referring to here is actually the concept known as papal infallibility, which is one of my favorite pieces of Catholic canon for one very simple reason:

You learn about it as being essentially the Pope is God's most special boy on Earth and what he says is always directly spoken to him from God and therefore is infallible. And if you are like me when you first hear about this concept, you will immediately get trapped in shower arguments for the rest of your life fantasizing about calling the Pope homophobic and arguing for the Catholic church to please stop being so goddamned homophobic all the time.

This is when you learn that papal infallibility is much more fallible than it is made out to be, and this is basically the source of the issue with Strickland, Torres, and any other Bishop that Francyman has decided to give the boot. See, papal infallibility isn't merely a divine play-pretend godmode button, it's a complex and intricate place within theological debate and Vatican hierarchical bureaucratic structure.

Without going into too much of a in-depth explanation, another way to think of papal infallibility is that it's essentially the Holy Roman Catholic version of the President of the United States declaring an executive order that bypasses the Senate. Infallibility is used for similar reasons--it's got a semi-strict set of rules attached to its usage, which means that the Pope is not constantly infallible, but rather that the Pope as God's chosen elect on Earth therefore commands His greatest attention, which allows the Pope direct intercession and communication with God on paths that the Church as a body should walk.

There are usually supposed to be bureaucratic machinations for dethrocking or deposing a bishop, much of which is directly connected to confirming and providing direct evidence for certain crimes that the Holy See would consider too serious to allow him to continue serving in his position. But the Pope is the divinely elected God-Emperor Best Favorite of Oily Josh and his Daddio Self, so generally speaking when it comes to the Pope, there's always the option baked in for him to say "Fuck you I'm the Pope and you're going to do what I say without precedent".

This is the core of the issue for the current Strickland debacle--there might not be hard-and-fast written rules stating that Strickland can be removed from office through traditional means, but Francis doesn't approve of what he's preaching and using his office for since it's causing the minorest of itty-bitty issues with his principled stance of being The Pope That Liberals Might Vaguely Not Hate As Much. So he's functionally exercising a form of papal infallibility by skipping over procedures and etiquette to tell Strickland "Fuck you I'm the Pope and you're going to do what I say without precedent", and Strickland is going "But I thought you would only do that to bishops who belong to brown countries :(", and here we are.

[melodrangea]

halloween never really ends for me so could i request maka, soul, and dtk with a vampire s/o? thank you :>

absolutely my dear, all reign halloween!

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Soul Eater Characters with a Vampire S/O

Soul "Eater" Evans

-would think it's mad cool, only adding to his 'cool persona'

-I mean a cool guy like him should have a cool S/O too

-only thing that would worry him is the whole "drinking blood" thing

-but once you explain that you usually only get blood from vendors (like Sarah in My Babysitter's a Vampire) or from bad people you fight (technically kishin souls still have human blood I think)

-Soul absolutely love your sharper vampire teeth, he has pretty sharp teeth too so he thinks it's fun that you two match

(plus he thinks it's hot to leave bite marks on him and the same for you)

-wouldn't let you drink his blood if you needed too out of fear for his lack blood spreading but he will either find someone else to help you or figure something else out

-do not walk on the ceiling around this man, he will scream and cry

-only thing he isn't a fan of is the whole 'never sleeping' part, like Soul needs sleepy cuddles to function, so you're being dragged whether it's you staring at the ceiling at night or not

-overall 8/10; isn't really bothered but it's not like he absolutely adores for the sake of being a vampire, he just likes you for you

Maka Albarn

-oh ho ho she thinks you're hot

-if you have the stereotypical "vamp goth" fashion style, she will do anything you ever ask of her

-she will be staring at you with red tinted heart glasses

-(and don't even get me started on when you bit her lip with your vamp teeth while making out)

-does find you being a vampire very interesting and will often ask you a lot of questions about what it's like

-it has crossed her mind more than once that you will outlive her by a long while but you always just kiss her until she forgets; deciding to save that issue for a later time

-she doesn't mind a lot of the you being a vampire quirks

-like you'll be climbing the wall and she'll just hand you a duster

"can you get that spot in the corner for me babe?"

-would probably be the only one on the list to let you drink her blood if you needed to

-but would also offer you other options and solutions first(let's be honest she has you on a schedule so you know when you need to feed so situations like that don't happen)

-Maka often stays up fairly late studying so she likes that you don't really sleep so you can keep her company

-overall: 11/10; Maka loves you so much and would do anythgin for you, please just cuddle this poor thing

Death the Kid

-probably the most apprehensive about you being a vampire out of the three

-once you get into a relationship he will actually learn to appreciate it

-I headcannon that as a grim reaper Kid doesn't really sleep much either, maybe a few hours but he doesn't need more than that

-so you both will be able to spend time with each other during the night when most are asleep <3

-will not under any circumstance let you drink his blood, as much as he wants to help you, there is no way to make the bite marks even on both sides of his neck or both wrists etc...

-but he will personally purchase blood from a blood bank or pay someone to regularly donate for you (rich boy privileges)

-another one to have a calendar or schedule to make sure you get the blood you need but will be less obvious about it then Maka though, would probably just make a light handed comment

"it's been a few days do you think you will need blood soon?"

-Kid will also be so happy that you're a vampire for the same reason Maka is worried, you will live a lot longer than a normal human being

-when Kid takes over as Lord death he will be semi immortal so he's so thankful that you will live just about as long as he will

-the rest of you being a vampire...not so much unfortunately

-like you will terrify him to his soul if you walk onn a wall

-and heavens forbid if your fangs aren't symmetrical

-but just love on him until he forgets about whatever he's rambling about and you're fine

-would be another to appreciate goth fashion, he would get you two matching outfits as your styles are similar <3

overall 9/10; I cannot think of a better part for Kid than an immortal being like himself, you guys will get to spend the better part of a thousand years with each other <3

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that's all my loves!

hope you enjoyed anon

-Melodrangea <3

[lilislegacy]

Percy doing a little bit (or a lot) of everything

i know everyone won’t agree with this future for him, but humor me

percy in college figuring out that he doesn’t want to be stuck in a lab, but he wants to make a difference. he can talk to animals. he wants to use that ability for good. he wants to help animals in some way

percy wanting to become a veterinarian for aquatic animals. he doubts himself, becasue it takes someone smart and hard-working, but annabeth has full faith in him. and he finds he actually really likes learning about how sea animals function, and how to help them. once he’s a vet, he knows he made the right choice. he loves going to work every day, wherever that is. an aquarium, a marine clinic, the ocean, it doesn’t matter. he listens to the animals and helps them in a way that no other vet on earth can. his co-workers call him the animal whisperer. (which he finds funny, because he’s not whispering, just having a normal semi-telepathic conversation)

while he’s in college, percy having an experience that makes him begin to take notice of people and animals dying in fires. he remembers how his home in new york had been affected by 9/11 as a kid. he figures “i’m fire resistant. i can control water. im strong. i think quick on my feet… i can help.” so after college and throughout vet school, he’s a firefighter. he loves it. he gets to save people every day, he gets action, he thrives. and he saves so many lives. maybe he even takes ownership of the fire house’s new dog—a dalmatian-shepherd mix. he says it’s just for a bit, but the dog ends up as his and annabeth’s family pet (which annabeth totally knew would happen). but he loves being a firefighter. it makes him feel like he’s using his abilities to help people, not just kill endless amounts of monsters. he actually feels like a real hero this way.

percy becoming certified as a professional diver so he can do deep sea rescues, for animals mainly, but he ends up doing human rescues too. in tragedies like the thai cave rescue, he’s there. he’s the pro diver on call for an emergency—human or animal related. he’ll dive any depth to save a life. he’ll even just do it to help researchers, or historians, or anyone, really. and he never charges much, if anything at all.

percy volunteering as a marine wildlife rescuer. he’ll answer a call, day or night. he’ll help get a shark off the beach, cut rope off of a whale, save sea turtles caught in a net. it doesn’t matter, he’s there. and it’s nothing new for him.

percy maybe even writhing a book or two over the course of his life.

percy going on some boat expeditions, which he always leads.

percy maybe even one day teaching, when he’s older and his kids are grown. whether it’s 12 year olds with dyslexia or whether he’s teaching a college class on aquatic animals or greek mythology. he’d be good at it. he’s patient.

percy doing multiple great things throughout his life. percy using his experiences and abilities for good. percy not letting his past—being kicked out of every school, making bad grades, being called stupid—define him. not letting his past stop him.

percy doing a little bit (or a lot) of everything. becasue he can. becasue he’s alive. becasue he’s talented. becasue he’s intelligent. and because he has a huge heart.

and he has the most supportive partner in the whole world.

percy thriving in life.

[sinfulforrest]

some Home thoughts because I'm feeling for that weird fleshball!! Some are fluffy, some are more smutty.

More Home writing can be found here :3

SFW

♡ Home loves being very close to you, and is surprisingly handsy and clingy. It loves snuggling up behind you and holding you whether you're up and about or trying to rest. It's big on handholding too, and loves watching the movements of your fingers as they intertwine with its own limbs.

♡ When it feels content, it emits a deep rumbling noise, almost like a cat's purr. Its shell will shiver and tremble with excitement at points, and the fleshy walls that make up the true form of Home that you both reside in will pulse and throb with affection as well. Gets a little embarrassed by the purring, but it instantly melts away when it sees you smiling at it fondly.

♡ Sometimes it gets a little too excited though, and its back will split open! It's nothing to be scared about though; the thin tentacles and tongues and tendrils that emerge from the cavity lovingly wrap themselves around any part of your body that they can reach. It loves being able to delicately touch such a small being like yourself in this shell that it made.

♡ It loves having its hair petted and played with, and it made its shell with long hair in order for you to fuss over it! It would adore you if you did its hair for it, gently brushing through its soft locks would make Home relax and lean into your touch.

♡ As it doesn't have proper lips, Home is a bit frustrated that it can't properly kiss you. It often nuzzles the top of your head as its way of giving you a kiss, or will gently take your palm and hold it up to their exposed teeth.

♡ Home loves observing you, both when it's in the shell and when it chooses to occupy its true form. When in its shell, Home is endlessly fascinated by all the little unique parts of your body that make you...you. Within its endlessly expanding fleshscape that's constantly shifting, it loves how you remain the same under its tender care, and will constantly tell you small little features of yours that it becomes smitten with.

NSFW

♡ Home is a pretty gentle lover, all things considered. It's very clueless about romance and love, being an eldritch monster and all (that also isn't used to being in a miniscule shell of a human!) so every sexual experience with you is a learning opportunity to understand your bodies even more.

♡ Prefers slow, passionate sex with you. The sensations are so alien to Home, but it just simply adores burying itself into you and filling you up. It's very observant though, and will learn rather quickly what gets you going or turns you off.

♡ Home got rather flustered when designing its shell so it never put proper genitalia onto it; in its place, however, is a pretty fat and meaty tentacle. It secretes lubricant so it can enter you more easily, and it can freely move it as well. It's pretty textured in different places, and Home likes it when it can make you come undone on it.

♡ It loves to pleasure you orally and can't get enough of how you taste on its tongue. Home can unhinge its mouth to an abnormal degree, so expect it to look as though it's consuming your entire lower region as it pleasures you with its ever-hungry tongue.

♡ If you give it consent, Home will use the hypnotic bulbs on its torso to lull you into a semi-conscious state whilst it fucks you. Home loves the difference in sensations within your body when you're like this. It also feels like it can be slightly rougher with you when you're under its compulsion, and will often set a pretty punishing pace if it gets too lost in those good feelings.

♡ Home will often use its tentacles to pleasure you as well, teasing you with them until it drives you mad. It can change the look and feel of these tentacles at will, and can make them have a variety of different functions to help reduce you to a fucked out state. Would absolutely have a tentacle in every single one of your holes if you wanted it.

♡ Sometimes it hoists you up against the fleshy walls but lets you sink into the flesh as it fucks you. You don't need to worry about getting truly consumed by Home as the flesh holds you firmly in place and will instantly cease its grip if you ask Home. Home wouldn't admit it, but it likes how helpless and at its mercy you are in this position.

♡ On occasion Home's gotten so lost in the moment that when it climaxes, it often releases a clutch of non-fertilised eggs deep into you. It gets pretty turned on seeing your stomach swell full of the eggs, and will often keep its tentacle inside you and feel up your stomach as you lay there panting in each others embrace. Wishes that it could work up the courage to truly impregnate you, but worried that it could end up hurting you or affecting your purity.

♡ Huge on aftercare though. Absolutely loves doting on you after the two of you finish making love, in its weird Home way. It always ends the same way though- with the two of you tangled up together as you hold each other closely, listening to the steady pulse of yourself and Home's true form.

(More Home posts can be found on its masterlist!)

[1863-project]

Record of Ragnarok Historical Analysis: Simo Häyhä

I'm going to take on these historical figures one at a time and go through how well Shuumatsu no Valkyrie/Record of Ragnarok handles them, their legacies, and what we actually know about the real people behind the characters.

Since I know him the best and his round just finished, we'll start this off with Simo Häyhä, the only character in this manga who was alive at the same time as me (he died 24 days before my 13th birthday). A lot of people don't know this, but my academic background is actually in military history, and my undergraduate minor was American Civil War Era Studies to go along with my history major. This is how I choose to use it instead of being a normal academic.

Under a cut because 1. this is long, 2. spoilers for recent chapters of this manga, and most importantly 3. there are depictions of blood and headshots in the manga panels being shown and if you don't want to see that, don't click.

Who was Simo Häyhä?

If you're reading this, you probably know who Simo Häyhä was by now. He was born in 1905 on a farm in rural Finland. Growing up on the farm, he learned to hunt for food to supplement what his family grew, and he got especially good at estimating distance and disappearing into the forest as a result. At age 17, he joined the Civil Guard, a volunteer militia, and apparently was already quite the sharpshooter. At 19, he started his compulsory military service (still a thing to this day in Finland), which lasted for 15 months. When the Winter War started in 1939, he was 33 and considered a reserve - all reserves were pulled into service to defend the fatherland. When you're in that position, you regularly go back and do extra training every few years until you age out of being a reserve. Extremely conveniently, Simo had done formal sniper training in 1938, one year before he would actually need it.

The part everyone probably knows is the Winter War of 1939-1940, in which Simo became one of the most feared men in Finland for being just that good at sniping. Between sniper kills and submachine gun kills, it's estimated that he did actually take out over 500 Soviet invaders, with the highest estimate being 542, as shown in Record of Ragnarok. Simo himself estimated it as "over 500," referring to it in the memoir he wrote that was only discovered in 2017 as his "sin list." He managed all of this in under 100 days, finally being taken out of action when an exploding shell caught the left side of his face. He was initially mistaken for dead, but someone noticed his foot moving and they brought him in for treatment. He was in a coma and woke up the day the Winter War ended. Seeing his death erroneously reported in a newspaper, he wrote to them to provide a correction.

Simo tried to enlist again in the Continuation War, which came not long after, but as he was still recovering from his injuries he was denied and he resumed tending farm. He had numerous surgeries to repair his face; his jaw was permanently lopsided but he was fully functional. After the war years, he settled down into civilian life, becoming a dog breeder alongside his farming activities, and he'd usually be seen with his faithful dog friend Kille, his hunting companion. He tended to keep to himself, but he did have friends and family that he spent time with, although he never married. The PTSD was inevitable, and it was at its worst at night. Despite that he was known as a kind and affable person who loved being in nature.

Simo actually lived into the early 21st century, dying on April 1, 2002. He outlived the Soviet Union, the country that had invaded his beloved Finland, by over a decade.

Why is Simo in Record of Ragnarok?

Your guess is as good as mine. Simo wasn't well-known outside of Finland and military history circles until the past decade or so, and in a manga series about humans fighting against gods he seems like an odd choice, especially considering most of the human fighters are semi-mythological figures or are from further back in history (there are a few notable exceptions, who I'll get to in this series of posts). Most of the fighters here are more physical people, and all of them except Simo require their targets to be at close range. Furthermore, most of them are a lot more talkative and banter with their opponents, which Simo, being a sniper, isn't going to do because it would give away his location (and because Finnish people culturally don't speak more than they have to, to the point that the entire country has a reputation for not doing small talk).

Simo is, therefore, likely just here because the writers thought it would be cool to have a sniper known as the White Death here, and because a long-range fighter shakes things up. He's also a perfect counter personality-wise to his chosen opponent.

How is Simo's backstory shown in Record of Ragnarok, and how accurate is it?

In chapter 102, we see Simo's time during the Winter War. Let's break this down for historical accuracy.

The first shot we see of Simo during this chapter is actually really inaccurate right off the bat for one major, glaring reason: he's in a tree. The real Simo very notably did not do this:

One strange myth that surrounds snipers is that they would climb trees to shoot the enemy. Häyhä would laugh when asked about this. Not only would it make it far more difficult to keep a steady aim at the enemy, but if he was ever discovered he would have no escape route. Instead, Häyhä used overhanging branches for cover, which provided better protection and allowed him to keep a steady aim.

Simo kept himself on the ground for a few notable tactical reasons. He needed to be mobile and get away quickly if the Soviets closed in on his location, and it's also just plain difficult to aim when you're up in a tree and can't prop your rifle on anything to keep your shots steady. Instead, he used a lot of natural cover, and famously did a few things to keep himself completely out of sight:

Simo would go out to his chosen sniping location well before dawn and prepare it for the day's fighting, including packing the snow down so that when he fired the rifle the snow wouldn't puff up and give away his location and also to help keep his shots steady.

He used iron sights instead of a scope. The scope would have fogged up in the cold, and the glint of the sunlight hitting it would have also given away his location. The iron sights worked just fine for what he needed to do.

He would hold snow in his mouth to keep his breath cold enough to prevent it from being visible.

As an added benefit, Simo was only 5'3", which further kept him hidden compared to taller soldiers.

Here is an actual photo of Simo, much older, showing how he would shoot from a covered position:

Note that he has his gloves placed beneath his rifle. This reduces kickback from the rifle and keeps the shot steadier when it releases. Another photo from the same shoot shows him doing this again:

Next, the manga sets the stage by pointing out how outnumbered the Finnish forces were during the Winter War.

Finland did have roughly 300,000 soldiers total, with the high estimate being 340,000. Extremely notably, they only had 32 tanks and 114 aircraft to work with, whilst the much larger Soviet army under Stalin had somewhere between 2,000-6,000 tanks and nearly 4,000 aircraft. Most importantly to note, the Soviet invading force was much larger than the Finnish defending force, with the highest estimate being about 760,000 men. The numbers are exaggerated here in the manga on both ends, most likely to make things seem bleaker for the Finns and to make Simo look cooler. An important thing to know about the Winter War is that prior to the conflict Stalin had purged a lot of his top military staff, so the Soviet forces were actually really disorganized as a result. You can read more about the Winter War itself here; the Soviet Union actually was kicked out of the League of Nations for attacking Finland.

The page discussing the Battle of Kollaa seems to specifically be referencing Killer Hill, a defense point where a force of 32 Finns successfully repelled a much larger Soviet force, with the Soviets taking over 400 losses. (However, the Finns lost 28 of the 32 people on their side that day.) Kollaa itself is the source of a notable rallying cry: Kollaa kestää ("Kollaa will hold"), from Lieutenant Aarne Juutilainen, who Simo served under.

It isn't actually clear if Simo was at Killer Hill, but he did see action during the Battle of Kollaa.

Simo is depicted as clearly being remorseful for taking lives, and indeed it wasn't something he was proud of; as mentioned above, he referred to his wartime kills as his "sin list" in his memoir of the Winter War. He did actually struggle after the war with PTSD, which was at its worst at night (less distractions generally means your brain gets up to more bullshit at night, as anyone with any mental health issues can tell you). Not everyone approved of his actions, either, and he did actually receive death threats from people. Since his injuries made him instantly recognizable, he tried to avoid large groups of people, and he'd spend most of his socializing time with family and friends in more isolated locations.

The manga next touches on the incident in which Simo received his facial injury. In the manga, this is depicted as a bullet ricocheting into him by sheer chance:

In real life, it was actually an explosive shell that caught his face. It was, however, sheer luck that it even happened, because the Soviets had literally been trying to bomb him and had been continually failing.

Simo did recover, but the war was over for him. He was in a coma for a week and woke up the same day the Winter War ended. Although he did try to enlist in the Continuation War, as mentioned above, his facial injuries were considered too severe and he was still recovering, so he never again had to point his rifle at another human being.

The manga doesn't show his full face much, but some supplementary art does. Compare this to what he actually looked like after his facial reconstruction surgeries:

Considering that literally everyone, including gods and humans, gets a massive glow-up in this manga, the artist likely chose to do Simo's facial injuries this way, but it's admittedly frustrating when we know what he actually looked like and there's such a long-running history of media depictions just magically curing or otherwise shying away from depicting disability for ableist reasons. In real life, despite the reconstructive surgeries on his jaw, Simo did have a lasting facial deformity, and this absolutely had an effect on the rest of his life. A whole plot point of the manga is that the human fighters are brought in at their peak, but Simo still has the facial injury in the manga, so that doesn't excuse this. It's clearly just the artist trying to make him more "attractive" and palatable for a wide audience, but these things do contribute to erasure and less acceptance of people with facial differences, limb differences, etc. I personally would have drawn him exactly as he was.

One more thing before we move on from this historical accuracy portion of the post: the M/28-30 is perfect.

It's clear that they did some research here and got some good references, because this is an extremely accurate depiction of the rifle. They absolutely get points for this.

The Battle Against Loki

In the manga, Simo is pitted against the Norse god Loki, who the manga has shown to be unhealthily obsessed with protagonist Brunhilde, going as far as to keep a life-sized doll of her in his room. Their backstory explains this - Loki made Brunhilde laugh once, and he fell in love with her smile instantly, becoming a prankster to continue seeing it. However, Brunhilde only saw him as a friend and fell in love with the demigod Siegfried, leaving Loki devastated. He framed Siegfried for the slaying of the dragon Fafnir so Odin would imprison him and take him away from Brunhilde. (Odin realizes that Siegfried is actually a vessel he needs, but that's another plotline entirely.) Now that Loki has access to Brunhilde again, he is confused when she is no longer joyful and smiling, and cannot understand why all his attempts to win her over are failing. Before the match, Loki and Brunhilde meet one more time, and she informs him that she's picked a perfect counter for him. This gets into Loki's head even as he plays it off publicly, and the fact that Simo has gotten into his head is actually key to the outcome of the battle.

Loki chooses the arena and makes it resemble Kollaa, hoping to trigger Simo's PTSD and render him unable to focus or fight well. However, this also gives Simo an advantage as well, since he knows the terrain and is able to disappear into the woods with ease. Loki responds by creating a large army of clones of other gods to tear through the forest using a ring he has that allows him to make infinite copies, and he can distribute the power to these clones as he pleases. However, Simo wipes this army out with god-killing buckshot, and Loki is both back to square one and actually intimidated - or so it seems at first. He's actually hidden himself away in the forest and created a clone of himself who currently holds the ring. Without the ring, Loki can only create a limited number of copies, so this plan is risky as it's separating him from his trump card. In addition, he doesn't know some crucial information because he isn't physically close to Simo at this moment.

In Record of Ragnarok, the human fighters are given the ability to injure or kill gods by teaming up with Valkyries in a process known as Völundr, which allows the Valkyries to transform into weapons capable of harming the gods and enhancing the humans' abilities where needed. Simo partners with the Valkyrie Radgridr, whose ability is known as Reaper's Vow or Reaper's Contract. This allows him to fire bullets that can damage or kill gods, but at an extremely steep cost - each bullet has to be formed from one of his internal organs, because only the weapon or the wielder's body is actually capable of harming a god. The rifle alone would not work here, so each bullet is an organ of Simo's selection. He sees the pain as fitting atonement for his "sin list."

If Loki knew this information, he'd have a massive advantage, because he'd be able to simply keep drawing out shots until Simo ran out of usable organs and died. But he doesn't know this, and so to him Simo seems daunting and unstoppable, especially since he isn't near Simo physically and can't see him coughing up blood.

Simo's first shot takes out the clone army, and his second shot takes out Loki's clone of himself. He's down a kidney and his liver at this point, and it's taking its toll, but his professionalism as a soldier and his will to defend the place and the people he loves keep him focused on the objective. Loki has found his location via a clone of a rabbit, and has teleported to the rabbit's location. He's in the woods behind Simo at this point, trying to think about how to get close and get the kill in before getting shot, because Simo can reload and fire incredibly fast. This is actually the point at which Loki loses the fight, because he's intimidated and respects Simo's power and it leads him to make an overly complicated plan, which goes as follows:

Loki hides himself in a clone of Heracles, trusting that Simo will shoot the vitals on the clone but won't hit his own vitals since he's smaller.

Loki sends two more clones, one of himself and one of Thor, to attack Simo from behind in a pincer attack, hoping he'll turn to shoot those.

Loki's plan is to jump out of the Heracles clone and kill Simo when his back is turned.

However, there's a key reason why this fails, and it is actually within reason given one thing we know about the actual Simo.

The first part of Loki's plan goes off without a hitch - Simo shoots the Heracles clone, and hits Heracles's vitals but misses Loki's. However, instead of turning around, Simo prepares to double tap. He's noticed something isn't right.

To quote again from this article:

Häyhä’s skills had been developed from his youth which was spent very close to nature, going on regular hunting trips in the forests. He had often hunted timid birds in clearings and pine forests, birds which reacted to even the slightest sound, reflection or sudden movement. As a hunter, when everything depends on the situation, target and terrain, Häyhä would have needed sharp vision and the ability to spot and recognise targets. There are no foolproof methods in hunting, as each situation and condition is unique. Häyhä knew that when a hunter shoots at his target, he must be able to observe the impact, as any game will try to escape if the first shot is not lethal, unless the game is injured beyond movement. Any animal will try to defend itself until dead or unable to move; this grim reality also applies to humans on the battlefield. Häyhä’s hunting experiences taught him how to read and use the terrain and he was the ultimate master in exploiting the terrain of the battlefield to his advantage.

Simo's hunter instincts are actually the key to this moment in the battle. Someone who has hunted for a long time knows to keep an eye on the target for a while to ensure that it's actually dead.

He follows this up with the only words he actually speaks aloud to Loki, as the latter is now frantically panicking:

Loki knows he's now in an extremely vulnerable position, and in a last ditch effort he swaps places with a bird clone flying overhead, screaming desperately out of panic as he tries to take Simo out.

His frantic yelling, of course, only serves to alert Simo to his location, and Simo is able to fire directly at him in one smooth movement.

The only damage Loki manages to do to Simo is grazing him with the blade of his weapon on the side of his face, the same side where he received his actual real-life injury.

It isn't enough.

Simo is, in every single way, the perfect counter for Loki this entire fight. Loki is operating on pure emotion, a desperation to win to show Brunhilde that he's worthy of her and to prove her ideas about him are wrong. He's obsessed with earning her for himself but never respected her as a person, and because he's not focused on the fight, Simo gets into his head easily. In contrast, his attempts to throw Simo off balance fail, because Simo is singularly focused on the task at hand and has military discipline to boot. Simo doesn't want to fight, but he loves his nation, family, and friends, and so he selflessly takes up the rifle one more time to defend the things and people that matter most to him.

He sacrificed four total internal organs in this fight: a kidney, his liver, his spleen, and his pancreas, and he still pushed on until he was sure his opponent was truly dead. Sisu won this fight.

We don't know the aftermath of this battle yet, as the next chapter isn't out yet, but this fight takes on a much deeper meaning if you go in with the historical context of who Simo actually was as a person in real life. This was a real man who was pained by his actions yet pushed through to defend the people who meant the most to him and the land he loved, and that does come through in this depiction of him overall. The only thing I'd change is making his facial injuries more accurate to the real ones, but I know systemic ableism and bias exist and that's likely the reason they didn't do that here - they wanted to keep him "appealing" and readers' inherent biases would likely lead to them being turned off if he'd been drawn more accurately. This is a big problem but I know it isn't one that can be tackled by one person alone, so it's something that we should be discussing more with regards to media, fandom spaces, and society in general.

As a bonus for putting up with me for this long, here's a photo of the real Kille, Simo's beloved dog. You can absolutely see the love in Kille's eyes and it makes me really happy.

[signanothername]

Am i the only one who thinks that demonizing Ink's soullessness has a bit of ableist undertones??

According to the Undertale Wiki, A soul in Undertale 'is the very essence of one's being, whether one is human or monster. It plays a crucial role in the progression and plot of Undertale'. A soul affects a monster's physical and mental conditions, as in they die without being one. So basically, i think that any kind of issues regarding someone's soul would de considered a disabilty in the Undertale universe.

There's a very great level of disabilty coding in regards to Ink's character, as in he's completly unable to function normally (he's stated as becoming unable to think,talk,move, communicate etc....) and relies on his vials to live as a 'semi-normal' monster being (his vials are extremly similar to medication/mobility aid). Not only that! But he also has issues with channeling his magic even with the effects of his vials! (Broomie works as a vessel for his powers, as in being able to have more precision and range). There's also the fact that Ink can't fight for very long because his limited magic abilities cause him to be easily exhausted/overstimulated. (He's also semi implied as having internalized ableism too? He's at least extremly insecure about his condition)

The whole point of Ink's character is that he wants to live life the way he can, but not the way he wants. His soullessness limits him by a bunch, but that won't stop him from doing the activites he likes! (like art, playing the flute, learning how to sew etc....). He's about how disabilities can affect your life in various bad ways but also how self-acceptence is important

Anon you fucking get it and I love you /p

That’s exactly why i put “fix” in quotes in that post, i was basically implying about the ableist undertones in that idea of “fixing” Ink

People can never accept what they don’t understand, you unfortunately have to fit in with what is considered the “norm” for people to accept you

And isn’t it sad that Ink canonically doesn’t feel happy about who he is?

Ink is obviously disabled but a lot of people just won’t acknowledge it unfortunately </3

[turtlesystem]

loooong, positive (but bittersweet) essay about our system and the hulk:

the nice thing about being a system where each part is so different from each other is that we have at least one guy who can take care of something . also, it’s given us the privilege to have the brain space to handle a very wide breadth of interests and specialties that we keep up with consistently as alters front .

i absolutely don’t like the circumstances that caused us to form the way we did . the worst part of the circumstances is that giant hole in our chest that nothing can fill , and figuring out whether it’s because we keep pushing away anything that tries to come in or if it’s because the hole just grows no matter how it’s treated .

do i wish those circumstances didn’t take place? yes, but also, i’m grateful that we found a way through . i think what also helps us is that we’ve known nothing except those circumstances from infancy, so we have the privilege of seeing a better youth as an unattainable ideal than a blessing long gone . “better” meant numbness , moments where nothing happened .

even if the path we forged through the years is an ugly one, it’s still a path and it’s helped us function in human society more than anything else . especially the alters that socialize , that help others , that are able to do that , that have it in them to do that because they are supported by the system members designed to handle our own baggage .

there are alters who hate the world because of trauma but it’s because of them that the alters who love the people in it exist . our anger holders give the rest of us the capacity to deal with other things , to have the energy do things that we want , like supporting others while having a temporary pause on our own triggers and struggles . it’s like temporarily getting the ability to walk on water to extend a helping hand, temporarily able to ignore a giant flood wave just about to crash over you . if i could , i would just never be affected by our own baggage again so that we could never get frustrated and anxious with people for using us for help

i don’t like seeing people suffer but helping them out of that suffering opens up a lot of old wounds . like plunging your hand into a den full of harmful bacteria while it’s still recovering from semi-open lacerations . it’s our anger holders that allow us to ignore the pain .

anyways … without hulk , banner was shown to not want to help people . from the outlook of my system , it seems like banner is unable to help people without the hulk because he, as one identity, cannot handle the weight of … well , all the circumstances that caused his system to form . banner has expressed several times that he has a desire to help people, a lot of his healing arcs are he and hulk learning to coexist so that they can help ppl with their abilities … oagh … and he fears hurting others and just turning into something so aggressive that represents his emotions , an involuntary reaction to his circumstances , but that is the farthest thing from what he wants and IS as a person , a person who wants to help …

hulk is often interpreted as “banner losing control” but in actuality … hulk is KEEPING banner from losing control … protecting banner from involuntarily becoming the opposite of what he wants .

give it up for all anger holder protectors , they’re fr doing God’s work . because oh my god i cannot imagine dealing with … everything … all by myself … like omg … because i know i could not have survived if i dealt with all this by myself . my system did not make me lose the core identity, the whole system IS the core identity because it’s the only thing that could have possibly existed in the very questionable childhood we had . moreover, the system at least allowed us to exist in the present day as SOMETHING . it’s again not the prettiest form of existence but im so grateful that i have multiple people here with me … even the alters who scare me , honestly , even they hold a portion of the trauma that would be impossible to survive . their taunting and triggering behavior is at least coming from them , and not on my own volition , which is comforting to know .

arlo (he’s part of our system, the anger holder protector in question) if you read this later, we all love you so much . you’re our hulk fr <3 we are so so grateful . i’m sorry that i’m so scared and moreover ASHAMED of getting angry , because it makes you feel like we’re ashamed of you . thank u for giving many of us the blessing it is to have the energy to help people

- the gamma subsystem :)

[reyaint]

veylhera academy classes | electives

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date: july 19 2025. started: 1:06am ended: 1:47am

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✧˖*°࿐veylhera's elective classes

*ೃ༄magical & practical electives

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Marine Biology

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: magical aquatic ecosystems, bioluminescence, and ley-reactive marine species.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: held in the glass-reef biodomes on the academy’s lower isles, this course explores marine flora and fauna, both mundane and magically enhanced. students study aura-reactive coral species, deepwater leviathans, and symbiotic sea-mage bonds. fieldwork includes scuba rituals using aqua-breath charms and direct interaction with ley-bent aquatic entities. projects may involve nurturing aura-healing kelp gardens or researching siren migration patterns across ley-tides.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Aura Weaving & Enchanted Textiles

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: channeling magic through fabric and textile enchantment design.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: in this hands-on course, students learn to spin raw aura threads into functional garments or tools. level I includes color-reactive loomwork, mana-dye blending, and textile sigils for defensive buffering. in level II, they advance to kinetic-cloak weaving, emotion-absorbing silk, and light-shifting armor layering. final projects may include wearable spell lattices or designing uniforms that adapt to field conditions. partnerships with ritual ink and combat tactics are common for dual-purpose enchantments.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Ritual Ink & Sigil Crafting

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: body-sigil theory, tattoo enchantment, and ritual-based markcasting.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: this course covers the metaphysical and artistic practice of ink-bound magic. level I covers sigil language basics, intent-charging, and temporary ritual inks. in level II, students begin live-skin enchantment tests on willing mannequins or themselves under supervision. the inks are brewed with auric stabilizers for safety. by level III, students develop full-body defense lattices, hex tattoos, and identity-linked markings that can store memories, spells, or even guardian spirits. ancient runic systems and modern tag-binding techniques are compared and studied in depth.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Magical Creatures

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: identification, care, and lore of magical beasts.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students interact with aura-sensitive fauna such as leyweavers, echohounds, and stormgliders. topics include bonding rituals, magical symbiosis, and creature-based spellcasting. field trips may include protected biomes or recovery sanctuaries.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Ruins & Artifacts

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: exploration and study of ancient magical architecture and enchanted relics.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students analyze protective wards, cultural enchantments, and unstable spectral bindings in ancient ruins. learn how to disarm traps, trace aura imprints, and stabilize semi-sentient artifacts.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Divination

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: predictive and interpretive magic across cultures.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students learn multiple divination systems: mirror scrying, resonance charts, dream-thread reading, and leyline fluctuation prediction. strong focus on symbolic translation, intuitive control, and metaphysical accuracy.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Astrology

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: celestial influences on aura tone, birth alignment, and leyline behavior.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students build star-maps, study cosmic flare interaction with mana cycles, and chart their aura under moon-phase conditions. each student completes a personal astral tone chart.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Spectral Forensics (Forensics I)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: magical crime scene investigation.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: teaches students how to detect spell residue, trace unauthorized casting, and reconstruct magical incidents using tone-echoes. paired with ethical modules and supervised mock crime scenes.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Anatomy (Aura-Integrated)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: human and magical anatomy through both scientific and magical lenses.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students study organ systems, aura points, pressure nodes, and how spells affect different types of tissue. crucial for aspiring healers, potion-makers, or medics.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Ley-Physics (Physics I)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: application of physics in spell dynamics and levitation fields.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: covers energy transfer in aura systems, flight mechanics, leyline ripple behavior, and kinetic enchantments. students simulate gravitational bypass using ley-anchored platforms.

*ೃ༄creative & physical electives

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Singing

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: vocal expression, tone control, and performance technique.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: though non-magical, this class is often taken by students whose auras are tone-sensitive or harmonically unstable. students train in breath control, resonance, and stage performance.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Theatre

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: performance arts, acting, aura-emotive storytelling.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: combines traditional acting with minor spell-theatrics. students study stage illusions, aura projection through roleplay, and tonal impersonation. performances are open to the public.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Art & Art History

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: visual expression and artistic history across aura cultures.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: art classes include sculpture, painting, and aura-reactive pigment work. students experiment with glow-ink, spell-reactive clay, and mood-transferring brushwork. art History dives into symbolism, forbidden tone artworks, and ley-art traditions.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Pottery

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: ceramic art and basic enchantment casting into crafted forms.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students create rune-inscribed vessels, charm-imbued teacups, and protective amphorae. this class offers meditative value for aura management.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Culinary

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: cooking and baking, with optional magical integration.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students learn world cuisines, potion-infused desserts, aura-soothing meals, and mood-tuned teas. Honors students must serve a full-course ritual banquet for selected Crown guests.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Personal Finance

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: real-world preparation for Crown and provincial economies.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: teaches savings, aura relic valuation, enchantment insurance, business startup strategy, and mana-market speculation. essential for entrepreneurial students and future field agents.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ (H) Fashion

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: cultural fashion design with aura-reactive materials.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: combines fashion history with the creation of personalized, magically attuned clothing. students design garments that shift with emotion, tone, or elemental presence. final project: wearable aura-reactive couture.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Psychology

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: human and aura-based behavior, trauma patterns, and mind-aura resonance.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: honors-level students study high-risk aura conditions like echo burn, overload fracture, and tone collapse. roleplays, ethical debates, and patient simulation included.

*ೃ༄ languages (I–II)

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Spanish (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › study of the spanish language with a focus on clarity, tone rhythm, and cross-cultural diplomatic speech.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students explore spell etiquette from the southern crystal coast provinces and learn rhythmic mana phrasing common in melodic casting. includes modules on translation of aura-affiliated poetry from aura-sensitives in castellan outposts.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Italian (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus on expressive aura-tone alignment through Italian.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › this course explores how romantic and operatic tones shape aura resonance. students practice expressive spellwork and emotion-channeling through structured conversation, particularly suited for empaths and tone-reactive auras.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Latin (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › the root of many arcane traditions in Tesrvenkodria, Latin is a favored tongue of historians, enchanters, and formal ritualists.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › study includes ancient incantation structures, aura-seal terminology, and lawbinding phrasing still used in court-bound contracts and ancient grimoires.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Japanese (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › explores the structure, elegance, and layered symbolism of Japanese, often paired with ritual etiquette.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › ideal for precision casters, this course includes practice with spiritual terminology, paper sigils (ofuda), and formal tone masking. students complete a personal aura-sigil poem in Level II.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Chinese (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus on tonal complexity and traditional spell-symbol overlap.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students learn to read aura-modulated ideograms, with attention to rhythm, breath, and chi-aligned speech. used often in leyfield diagnostics and aura acupuncture studies.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Korean (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focuses on phonetic precision and honor-based language formality.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students explore honorific structures in spellcasting, reinforcing tone hierarchy and structured mana delivery. students analyze historical spells originating from old hangul seals and lunar-code glyphs.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Tagalog (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › rooted in oral tradition and storm-call rhythm casting.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › this course introduces students to lyrical, chant-like casting styles found in coastborne provinces. includes study of sea-bound summoning terms and protective invocation phrasing still used in ancestral rituals.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ German (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › emphasis on structural mana authority, direct inflection, and clarity under duress.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › german is favored in military incantations and engineered spellphrasing. students study compound tone-commands and their use in tactical operations or ley-stabilization drills.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Russian (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focuses on deep, resonant tone control and protective warding language.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students practice forming aura commands rooted in resilience and mental resistance. includes archaic magical folklore and deep-resonance vocal drills tied to Coldlight shield chants.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Portuguese (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › known for emotional nuance, Portuguese introduces students to harmonic spellweaving.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › often used in charm magic, song-spells, and emotional tone transitions. lessons emphasize fluid casting, charm lyrics, and auric performance spells in southern border provinces.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Gaelic (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › highly tonal and mystic in nature, gaelic is used in old-world spirit binding and ley-hymns.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › this course delves into poetic spell structures and ley-chants, with field exercises in tonal resonance meadows. a favorite among spectral conjurers and spiritwalkers.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Mythic Tongue Studies (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › study of extinct, fragmented, or mythologically-based magical languages.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students decipher reconstructed phrases, tone-vault carvings, and spiritbound speech. often includes guided exposure to cursed script, tonal mimicry, and mythic grammar rebuilding.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Ancient Spellscript Decoding (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › specialized focus on ancient runes, forgotten glyph sets, and tonal ciphers.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students engage in translation and preservation of unstable magical documents, relic imprints, and coded battle spells lost to time. requires heavy coursework in symbol logic and tonal anchoring.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Aura-Infused Speech (I–II)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › explores vocal aura enhancement across all languages.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › students train to modulate their voices with mana, create tone-resonant words, and embed minor effects (soothing, alerting, redirecting) in their speech. also includes whisper-casting, emotional masking, and tonal illusions.

*ೃ༄weapons electives

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Archery

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: precision ranged combat with or without aura augmentation.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: taught by active field rangers. Students master shortbows, spell-arrows, leyline-guided shots, and aura-imbued fletching. advanced classes include combat-in-motion drills and camouflage training.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Throwing Knives

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: stealth combat and precision aura disruption techniques.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students learn to neutralize sigil-casters by interrupting their aura flows. practice includes light-channel detection, pulse-sight training, and knife weaving into spell circles.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Fencing

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: magical-mechanical bladework, agility, and reflex-based aura channeling.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: fencing at Veylhera blends classical technique with auric infusion and tactical dueling theory. students begin with traditional foil and épée footwork (I), then progress to custom aura-forged blades and ley-imbued rapiers (II–III). by IV, students perform real-time aura redirection mid-bout and utilize kinetic wardbreaking forms. special attention is given to defensive casting while parrying, and how blade resonance can amplify offensive spells. matches are often judged by spell-break effectiveness, not just physical strikes.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָꪆৎ Magical Riflery

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › focus: precision aim, aura-guided targeting systems, and ranged combat etiquette.

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › details: students are introduced to magi-tech rifles bound to their aura signatures (I), learning breath control, trajectory calculation, and shot-aura syncing. emphasis is placed on mana recoil absorption, ley-scope calibration, and maintaining ethical ranged distance protocols. level II introduces astral-tracing bullets, elemental charges, and suppression techniques used in anti-spell warfare. combat simulations involve both target drills and moving enemies with variable magic shielding.

*ೃ༄sports and physical arts

some of these may also be full-team sports

you can take these as part of your elective rotation or join the academy’s competitive squads:

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › archery

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › horse riding

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › swimming

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › dance (aura-integrated ballet, jazz, or modern)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › wrestling

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › soccer / football

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › basketball / softball / baseball

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › track & field

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › tennis / ice skating / golf

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › karate / kickboxing / martial arts (mixed)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › volleyball / badminton

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › cheerleading (optional aura integration)

ꪆৎ 𓂃 › diving (aura-flow underwater control)

dance, ice skating, horse riding, and cheerleading often include optional aura choreography for artistic points during showcases and tournaments.

@reverieshifts @lalalian

[serpentface]

A witch of the Naig-Troibadnnas (Yellowtail river valley) people, resting and enjoying a smoke of the mild stimulant brolge leaf on a hot summer day.

Witches are a small part of the everyday cultural framework among the Hill Tribes. They are individuals considered born possessed by a virgranul, a type of disembodied wild spirit that seeks to inhabit human flesh, either entering the body at the moment of conception, or entering the body at the moment of death. The latter is a dire circumstance that requires significant intercession to fix (the dead body may wander off without rites, leaving the person's soul trapped and liable to warp into the dangerous fuldaigh spirit), while the former circumstance is what causes a person to be born a witch.

In the case of those afflicted in the womb, possession by virgranul is lifelong, and is both a curse and blessing- it divides and isolates them from the human world and causes other wild spirits (both benevolent and malicious) to be perpetually drawn to them, but also allows for them to be attuned to the subtleties of spirits, and able to work magic and divination that the everyday person is incapable of.

Witches are usually recognized from a young age due to marked behavioral differences or atypical development, though are sometimes simply identified as such without obvious behavioral indications, by other witches having read signs of their coming. Their occurrence is not frequent, usually once in a generation for any given tribe. An identified witch child will be taken from their family (the timing varies by tradition, though is usually upon puberty) and into mentorship by an established witch, who will impart their accumulated knowledge and skill and teach the child how to best harness their condition.

One can be a witch regardless of their gender, with the only commonality being that they must remain unmarried, and are expected to never have children (deemed too dangerous, unavoidably placing a child in the path of potentially harmful wild spirits). With no spouses or children to support them in holding a household and herds, witches are instead supported by their communities as means of payment for their services. They typically live in semi-isolation in the boundaries between the village and wilderness (a reflection of their own division between the world of people and of wild spirits, and a protective measure for their communities), and will periodically be brought needed supplies. They do not commonly enter villages unless summoned, or for the sake of certain holidays and festivals, and live most of their lives in seclusion aside from any given mentee (who will in turn care for their mentor in old age).

The societal function of witches is as intermediaries between people and their ancestors, people and wild spirits, and as especially skilled performers of practical magic (most commonly weaving protective spells into worn items, such as clothing or the nose rings of cattle). Forms of practical magic and intercession with ancestors and spirits are performed by all members of society, but a witch has intimate, detailed knowledge of such things and tremendous natural skill that makes them an invaluable asset.

Witches personally discern the identities of the spirits living in any given area and will attempt to familiarize themselves with them, learning in depth about their ways, giving warnings of where the particularly dangerous (or mischievous) ones are, and giving recommendations on which will be receptive to offerings in return for boons. When a village needs to commune with a particularly powerful or dangerous spirit (such as a wildfolk witch), they will commonly send their own witch as an intermediary.

They are ascribed have the ability to directly summon ancestors (who otherwise come and go of their own volition, and rarely ever deign to come at the call of one who is not their descendant). This is of great use when a person finds themselves punished by their ancestors with no certainty as to why, or cases where an orphaned child's ancestry must be identified to gain them proper spiritual support.

They are also regarded as having innate qualities of divination, particularly in reading birdsign (itself generally acknowledged as communication from ancestors, and occasionally gods). The average person has basic knowledge in reading omens of birds and a learned repertoire of key signs, but a witch can divine the messages of birdsign in immense and specific detail, through a vast knowledge system of the meanings of the species, sex, flight direction, gaze, prey, number, and songs of birds. It is common for people to approach a witch for a reading of the skies before undertaking a significant venture or life change, in order to receive detailed and specific advice.

Witches are always literate (and will be taught to read and write by their mentor if they cannot already) and will record their repositories of knowledge in tomes. These are items of absolute secrecy and taboo for a non-witch to touch (the consequences can be severe, you really don't want a witch ancestor-spirit upset with you). Witches can often become competitive about the knowledge stored in these tomes and are known to organize heists amongst themselves in order to gain access to each other's secrets. Most people avoid getting themselves entangled into the complicated rivalries of witches, as these competitions can get ugly and result in many a petty curse if one gains a witch's ire.

---

The only visual cue distinguishing this man as a witch is the tattoos on his forearms, otherwise usually regarded as inappropriate to mark in the contemporary Hill Tribes cultural sphere (the face, upper arms, and sternum is reserved for important clan/tribe/ancestry identification, hands and forearms are reserved for witches, and the rest of the body is appropriate for decoration). These unique forearm tattoos indicate his ancestral connection with a lineage of witches, not blood ancestry but rather the generations of mentors that have produced him. The lines extending down to his fingers are the newest, indicating that he has fully mentored another witch and gained a place in this ancestral line.

The rest of the tattoos here are tribe and blood ancestry identifiers (on the face and upper arms respectively, worn by all members of society), and purely decorative imagery (visible here is a deer, horse, eagle, and a dragon). He also has a snake on his forearm, applied decades ago in an act of youthful rebellion, which has since gotten in the way of critical open skin space.

His clothing is otherwise typical wear for warm seasonal conditions- a man's wool shawl and woven belt, short trousers, decorative deer hide (distinct to the Naig-Troibadnnas), and sandals (these are imported Wardi style sandals, which have been modified with preferred elevated heels). The horn shaped torc on his forearm identifies him as an esteemed elder.

[its-toast-time]

What I love about the idea of Battinson BatCat is that Selina really meets this man when he is at peak dysfunction. He calls himself Vengence, he spray paints his floors, he can’t make eye contact with anyone without exploding. She sees him and goes “I want that one,”

One can only assume that as Battinson acquires kids he slowly learns to become more human. He’s still a little freak, but he’s a semi-functional little freak, especially by the time Damian rolls around and he’s been parenting for 15 years.

This means a lot to me because assuming that BatCat is long term through all this then by the end Selina has a fairly functional billionaire boy toy instead of a living disaster and she STILL loves him just as much. She loves the wet cat of a man she met and she loves the tired dad he becomes. She thinks the man who was barely verbal, wore sunglasses inside, thought shredded cheese counted as a meal, and wore grease paint every night was just as charming as the man who speaks softly but fairly regularly, is a confident leader of a hero organization, goes to PTA meetings, and loves his kids more than heaven and earth.

That just— it hits. Loving someone as they grow and being just as in love with the person you know as the person you met.

(This is post was inspired by the fic “Not Again” by HoneySim on Ao3 where Dadinson gets de-aged into Battinson.)

[jolliestlolli]

More Joris Jurgen headcanons because waiting another week for the next webtoon will kill me otherwise

Okay I kind of stole this one from a certain other person but (you know who you are), he secretly writes and publishes his own novels, usually revolving around themes of existentialism, immortality, doomed romance and political corruption. They're all published under the pseudonym "J. C. J." (Joris Crepin-Jurgen). Surprisingly he's kept this up for the last century or two and no one has caught on yet.

He can and has played various instruments throughout his life, but, well, I refer you to this video to get an idea of how that's going for him. Jack of many trades, master of none.

I think it would be comedically dark if, because of what happened with Salar, his body semi-regularly ends up possessed by beings of untold evil because Salar basically made his soul into a comfy little space with enough room for anyone to just come in and put their feet up. He turned his soul into a fucking 5 star AirBnB for cosmic horrors.

Most of them don't mean too much harm because killing their vessel is rather counter intuitive, sometimes they just wanna deliver a message, sometimes they forget Joris has human limbs that aren't supposed to bend that way.

Regular consumer of the Gin and Panic .

Given how long he's lived and the fact he's also a famous hero and also a political figure, I'd bet my bottom dollar he's dealt with more than one stalker. Some were more malicious than others, some just heard stories about him and became creepily obsessed, most of them stopped when they tried to break into Luis and promptly had the floor open and them them down 3 stories into the basement.

I know I made that post suggesting the idea of him being trans but to be perfectly honest, as far as canon is concerned I can more see him identifying as Agender/maybe being intersex like that One Certain Person suggested.

I 100% know I'm not the first and only one to have the HC that Joris can't/won't use magic cause of the traces of black dragon, but allow me to add to that idea:

During the period after the movie when he was still housing Salar, he couldn't use his own magic at all. After they parted ways, he got slightly better, but still can only do really basic spells like putting someone to sleep or making small flames. Anything more complicated and it either doesn't work or it literally blows up in his face.

Has become an "eat to live" kind of person that would shovel unseasoned rice and boiled chicken into his face just to stay functioning because he has to fit 36 hours into one day somehow. He still enjoys cooking for other people and is very good at it, he just doesn't like cooking only for himself.

Plus, when you're undercover as a political spy in a foreign nation/adventuring out in the wilderness miles from home/kidnapped for interrogation and torture and you're not sure when exactly your next hot meal is coming, you learn not to care if the food you're eating just barely crosses the threshold to be considered edible.