#blue watches treasure planet

[fatcowboys]

silver: god so inconvenient the captain assigned this kid as cabin boy. cant believe i have to be his dad

the rest of the crew: you dont?? have to??? our whole plan is to rob him and steal the treasure?????

silver: no im his dad now

[moonlightsolo]

Imagine going to the bioluminescent forest to research plants and neteyam is bathing there but you haven’t met and you try to sneak away before he sees you watching him🫣🫠

wow i finally finished this after literally months & it was definitely worth the wait ;)

very descriptive smut 18+ minors dni pls!!!! & thx to @cinetrix for fueling my delusions w these photos <3

the forest of pandora; one of the many treasures of the extrasolar moon.

coming from earth, where the greenery has been absorbed by concrete jungles, this new planet is fascinating to you.

pandora’s lush paradise is filled with rich varying colors, and trees that tower into the atmosphere. being a xenobiologist in this environment, is like hitting the jackpot.

the bizarre flora can keep you occupied for hours, every time you step foot outside you always find something new to observe.

but when you stumble upon a na’vi you haven’t seen before- and somehow looks vaguely familiar… you can’t help but gawk at him as he washes himself in a steaming lagoon.

being surrounded by na’vi is intimidating. especially when they’re tall, and lean, and everything that your human form is not. you work alongside the omatikaya clan, thankful that you were too young to travel in cryo after the war.

but as you continue to stare from the tree line, you observe the adornments in the man’s hair, and the neckpiece that confirms he belongs to the clan you work alongside.

how have you never seen this na’vi before? you know everyone! from the olo’eyktan, to the tsahìk. you crouch down in your spot in the shadows of the trees, watching how he softly scrubs his body and creates white suds over his blue skin.

you admire him from afar, taking note of the valleys of his defined muscles and how they protrude magnificently from having a low percentage of body fat, if any.

although you appreciate the plants, the best part of the planet is ingenious species of the world— the na’vi.

their skin is a muted cyan, and adorned with stripes that are not all uniform. they’re also tall, much taller than an above average human male- and their bones are reinforced with a naturally occurring carbon fiber, making their muscles sharp and chiseled…

…and this one is absolutely breathtaking. his nose is perfectly slanted, and his ears are pointed yet soft at the same time. his eyes are round and golden like the star that shines in the sky.

god, is he fucking tall, like a tree. you feel like if you would stand next to him, you would only reach his goddamn elbow! oh man, you’d like to climb him.

you shake away your dirty thoughts, almost laughing at yourself for thinking so irrationally. you’re crouched here, stalking a na’vi as he bathes— what a creep.

you stand up fully to turn around and walk the opposite way, but your foot crunches loudly on a thick twig. it’s almost like a chain reaction as a nearby animal in the bush darts out in attempt to escape from your human self.

instinctively, you let out a screech as you stumble backwards to run away from the scared little thing. your heels catch the fallen log, the one you were previously hiding behind, and your knees buckle which sends you hurtling over the wood.

you tumble backwards past the treeline, and into the open field. you land on your butt with your back facing the lagoon. your heart is pounding out of your chest, whether it’s from the animal startling you, or the embarrassment of the na’vi now knowing you were in the trees near him.

you take a deep breath to calm your nerves, one of your hands rest on your chest as you attempt to control your breathing. oh god, you’re such a weirdo. he has to know you were watching him. maybe you can play it off as you simply tripping and falling.

before you could seek out where the na’vi is, a large heavy hand lays on your shoulders from behind. the feeling startles you, and makes your entire body jolt to spin around on your butt and face the intruder.

“oh god… hi.” you puff out breathlessly, and your eyes look over his damp body and the pearly-white smile on his face.

“you okay?” his accented voice speaks in english.

your face obviously looks taken aback, which makes him take a step away from you and his hand falls back to his side. “i’m okay, yeah… yeah, wait — you speak english?” your eyes peer up at him curiously as you stand to your feet, and he can’t help but smile at the inquisitive look on your human face.

“i do.. i grew up speaking it alongside my family, i’d rather speak my peoples language, but you’re not one of them.” his deep voice hums, and you can’t help but notice how his gaze flits over your body.

you’ll say it is a warm day today on pandora, so you’re not completely covered up; you’re wearing a thin tank top that you ripped into a crop, and some tiny khaki shorts that sit high on your waist and short on your thighs.

you can feel your cheeks heat up from him evidently checking you out, which makes your arms cross over your chest to shield your body.

his eyes slightly widen when you unintentionally press your breasts closer to each other. the man swallows and lifts his eyes to your face behind your mask, now knowing that you caught him in the act.

“i’m neteyam.” he extends one of his very large hands, which you gladly take. his hand is warm and heavy in yours, practically engulfing your own hand in his palm.

you smile at his introduction, then your face screws up in confusion. your brain wracks through every memory of where you could have heard that name before. then it clicks, and suddenly your eyes widen in realization, “neteyam sully?” you blurt out, still unknowingly shaking his hand like a mad man.

“uh… yes. that’s me?” he chuckles awkwardly, and looks at your hands still moving between your bodies.

neteyam sully— the olo’eyktan’s son, the stealthy warrior of the sky. the one who rarely makes an appearance in the clan because of his strenous mission to seek out the RDA.

“i know your dad, and your entire family. i work with the omatikaya!!” your eyes dart down to your shaking hands before pulling away in embarrassment.

“oh. you’re the girl? the one norm and max brought in..” he hums, almost like a purr, and his arms cross over his toned chest.

the girl? so he’s heard about you.

“i guess that’s me…?” you let out a nervous laugh, “i’m y/n by the way. it’s nice to finally meet you, i’ve heard a lot about you.” you can’t help but beam at him.

it’s almost as if he is a legend to the omatikaya because seeing him is such a rare occurrence. after his family had returned from the island clan, neteyam went into hiding to track down the RDA, to avenge his people that were lost in the war.

your eyes trail down his body, unable to help yourself; sometimes you can’t get over how beautiful the na’vi are.

neteyam places his hands on his hips as he watches your eyes rake over the expanse of his body, “like what ya see?” he arrogantly asks with a smirk.

you take a step back once you hear his words, “no- no… i—.” you raise your hands in surrender as your cheeks burn with a blush.

“i’m sorry. i was just… admiring, i guess.. i study the entirety pandora so it’s always fascinating to see something new.” your voice is slightly muffled from your mask, and your hushed tone.

slender fingers wrap around your wrists to gently tug your hands away from the surface of the mask, “don’t worry, i’m just messing around.”

when neteyam comes into view, his face is much closer to you from him being slightly bent down. you can see every detail, every subtle knick in his skin from previous injuries, and the slight pink tint to the tip of his nose and his cheeks.

god, he is one beautiful na’vi.

he stands up straight and clears his throat, “go ahead. examine whatever you want. i’ll be your test subject.. doctor.” he sarcastically nods toward you from the nickname, and places his hands on his hips.

the nickname makes a shiver run down your spine—you’re definitely no doctor, but you’ll take it.

you gulp as you allow yourself to peer over his body, letting your eyes run over his muscles and the stripes that adorn his skin. the sun hides behind clouds in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the two of you.

his bioluminescent freckles sparkle in the shadows, and you can’t help but reach out and touch them. his body shudders under your soft touch as your fingertips gracefully run over the spots that adorn his chest. following the trails that lead farther down his abdomen.

neteyam seems to have been sculpted by eywa herself.

“may i say… you are quite beautiful.” his deep voice blurts in the tension-filled air, causing your lungs to constrict from the compliment.

you stare up at him through your eyelashes, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. “so are you.” you reply with a small smile.

he lets out a little breathy, ‘hmph’ from your reply, as if he was amused by it. he bows his head toward you in an act of silently thanking you.

one of his hands rise to play with the wild hair sticking out beside your ears. then he lets his fingers trail down the border of your mask and down your neck; the feather-light touches make your skin crawl.

the look in his eyes darken as he stares down at you, which makes your stomach fill with butterflies. how does someone you just met have such an effect on you?

“i know you were watching me earlier.” his sultry voice purrs out, as his thumb works to rub soft circles into your throat.

your eyes blow wide, and your mouth slightly falls open from his confession, “i–i.. what?” you breathe out as heat fills your entire body, and humiliation burns at your skin.

“it’s okay. do not worry…” he chuckles from your obvious panic and swipes his thumb under your chin to tilt your face up, “i enjoy having your eyes on me.” his deep voice rumbles quietly, but still loud enough to make your skin crawl with goosebumps.

you can feel the heat pool in between your legs from his soft touches. his eyes peer into yours, and you watch how his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips as he stares at you.

you feel shame sit heavy in your chest from how aroused you are. you shouldn’t be doing this and he shouldn’t be encouraging it; he’s na’vi and the son of your boss, and you’re human. there’s absolutely no way this would be possible.

neteyam can tell your mind is overworking itself as your eyes flicker over his face. he takes the opportunity to swoop down and press his lips to your ear, making you gasp in surprise.

no fucking way he’s this close to you right now.

he pulls back, but just enough so his lips were ghosting over the glass, fogging it up and wishing you could kiss him.

the striking yellow of his irises makes your lower stomach clench, and the firm feeling of his hands running down your body makes you bite back a moan.

“tell me to stop… and i will.” he breathes out with a hint of a smirk crawling on his perfect lips.

“we–we shouldn’t…” your voice is breathless, and you can feel your body trembling; whether it’s from nervousness or the anticipation of what is about to happen.

there’s an inexplicable chemistry that cannot be ignored between the two of you.

“you’re right, we shouldn’t…” he takes a step back, tearing himself away from you; which makes you suck in a sharp desperate breath. you don’t want him to stop, “but wouldn’t it be fun?” he swoops back and grabs your hips harshly to pull you into his body.

neteyam can only be honest with himself. being a warrior is tough, especially being away from his family. but one of the worst parts is that he doesn’t have a woman to feed his hunger, to release his pent up frustration— the only thing he is left with is his own hands.

so when a beautiful human girl stumbles onto his path, he can’t help but allow lust to cloud his vision.

a whimper escapes your throat when his hot body presses into you, and the feeling of his bulge sitting on your stomach makes your knees want to buckle. “is that a yes?” he hisses out under his breath.

you fervently nod in agreement, “please. i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” you whine out, almost turning into putty in his strong hold.

neteyam’s tail whips behind him at the sound of that and a cocky sneer forms on his face. he finally closes the gap between your bodies as his hands grip your upper thighs, lifting your body up to his level.

your arms swing themselves around his neck, and your thighs tightly squeeze his waist as he holds you in the air.

he attaches lips to the junction of skin that connects your neck and shoulder, kissing and sucking on your warm body- sending shivers to wrack down your spine. his entire presence is intoxicating to you, and you crave even more from him.

the na’vi stumbles forward to a nearby tree to press your back against it, now your hips are almost flush. only separated by his loin cloth, and your thin shorts. you can feel the weaved fabric of his cloth press against your center, which makes a soft whine spill from your lips.

neteyam smiles against your neck, pulling back to look over your face for a moment. the look in his eyes makes you want to drop to your knees right at this moment, but he’s quick to lean down and continue his attack against your neck.

his sharp teeth carefully nip at your skin and his lips suck little love bites, causing lovely red spots that’ll inevitably show up darker later. the feeling causes an explosion of flutters to erupt across your nerve-endings.

his hands hold your body in place against the tree as he lowers himself, kissing down your collarbones and making his way to your breasts, “take it off.” he breathes out, almost like a desperate hiss.

his eyes dart from your face to your tank top, licking his lips in anticipation. you quickly oblige, pulling your hands from his braids to swiftly tug the flimsy fabric over your head.

you toss it somewhere beneath you to the mossy ground, now left completely shirtless. you silently thank yourself for not wearing a bra today.

neteyam’s tail waves entrancingly behind him as he looks over your naked chest, “mmm, sevin..” he purrs in his native tongue, which almost made you climax at the sound of it.

you recognize that word as ‘pretty’… he called you pretty. the compliment obviously makes your cheeks flush, and he takes notice to it and a smile grows on his handsome face.

he grins at your shyness, and leans forward to look into your eyes. “you are.” his voice rumbles, as one of his hands snakes up to rest on your naked chest.

the feeling of his large hand on your body makes you bite your bottom lip, his hand covers your entire breast and his fingers reach to your collarbone. he takes his time with you as he leaves wet kisses all over your chest until he reaches the other unoccupied one.

he kisses along your nipple, playfully licking at it like a cat before making his way farther down your body. the hand on your breast keeps your body in place as he lowers himself. his teeth nip as the waist band of your shorts, expertly undoing the button with his mouth.

the heat of his mouth unfortunately leaves your body, which makes you wriggle in his grip. “be patient, little one.” he chuckles, and uses one arm to hold your entire body up while the other busies itself tugging your shorts off of your legs. thankfully, he doesn’t ruin them for future use, since human clothes are a rare thing to come across on pandora.

he frowns when he sees your underwear, “so many layers… why?” he grumbles.

a giggle tumbles past your lips, but you snap your mouth shut to stop yourself, “why are you laughing?” he stares up at you from between your legs. the sight of him so close to where you need him makes you salivate.

“m’sorry. it’s just funny.” you stifle more laughter from sputtering out, as a mischievous smile tugs up onto his face. “your kind is funny. na’vi only have our tweng, and that’s it. none of whatever this is..” he huffs as he expertly moves your legs onto his shoulders, now face to face with your center.

one of his fingers hooks into the elastic of your panties, and lets it snap back against your skin. the feeling makes you jolt in his arms as the burn soothes itself.

neteyam places lazy kisses along your inner thigh, smiling as he feels you shudder in his hands, “sensitive.” his hot breath puffs against the damp fabric of your underwear.

you whine in his arms, instinctively bucking your hips forward. he tsks and his ears flatten against the side of his head, “patience, love. patience.” his voice soothes you as he unsheathes his blade from his hip.

“wait! what are you doing?” you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, but he is relentless and too strong- which in all honesty turns you on even more.

“shhh.” he hushes you as one of his fingers stretch the fabric of your cotton panties away from your hip, and he brings the knife up to cleanly slice it in two places.

the thin fabric falls to the ground and your mouth is hanging open in shock. somehow, you can’t even be mad at him for ruining your underwear from how fucking hot that was.

“this okay?” he breathes out teasingly over your core, and all you can do is nod. you’re about to get eaten out by a na’vi, for the matter of fact the olo’eyktan’s eldest son. you wish he could pinch you right now because this seems like a dream.

once neteyam receives your consent, he dives forward. his long tongue explores your folds, making the back of your head slam against the trunk of the tree as you cry out to the sky.

your hands instantly find solace in his braids, as the heat of his mouth finds every possible pleasure-filled spot.

“oh god…!” you let out a loud moan, and your fists grip his braids harsher. your movements cause a hoarse moan to vibrate from his mouth, up into you.

which earns neteyam another loud cry to spill from your swollen lips; it’s like music to his ears. he digs his face farther into your mound, wiggling his face back and forth to coax more of those delightful sounds out of you.

your chest puffs crazily and your back arches off of the rough surface of the tree bark, “yes, oh my god.. fuck- i’m gonna- don’t stop!” you ramble out, as your hips involuntarily buck against his face.

neteyam chuckles as your eagerness, smiling against you as he pulls away to allow you to calm down. the scene between your legs makes you feel as if you could come untouched. no way this man is edging you right now.

he is smiling all giddy, his pearly whites on show with your slick glistening around his mouth. it’s something of your deepest darkest fantasies, you wish you could take a picture so you could never forget it.

your chest heaves as your body attempts to soothe your built up high that was sinfully stolen from you, “what is this god you talk about?” he questions as he pulls you away from the tree, and slides your body down his so your legs are around his waist again.

“someone we humans admire. like eywa to the na’vi.” you sigh out and lean back against the tree.

a sudden surge of confidence floods your body, allowing your nervousness to wash away. knowing that neteyam is strong enough to hold you up, so you allow yourself to unhook your hands from around his neck.

“like eywa?” he questions with a hum, his round eyes intently watch your every move.

your hands run down his neck, to his chest and over his muscles and scars. “yes, like eywa, and i prefer eywa as well.” your breathing shudders as you lean forward rest your mask against his chest.

you can’t help but notice the tiny smirk on his lips from your comment.

your fingers reach up to your face, sliding your finger under the seal to pull it away from your face. his eyes go wide as he stutters over his words, and his hands fly up to press it back against your face.

“what are you doing? you will die, we’re too far to get help.”

your glossy eyes look up at him through your eyelashes, “trust me. i won’t die. please let me take it off.” you whimper desperately, chewing on your bottom lip.

the begging look you give him makes his stomach do somersaults, unable to stop you from doing whatever you want. with those eyes and that look, you have him wrapped around your finger.

his grip leaves the sides of the mask, and a sneaky smile beams on your face. he surrenders to you, and rests his hands against your sides as he watches the mask fall from your face to hang around your neck.

finally, your beauty is exposed from behind the hazy glass. he’s able to see your face fully, drinking in every beauty mark and the twinkle in your eyes.

while holding your breath, you lean forward to press a kiss against his neck. you allow your tongue to dart out, to lick at his clean skin, to feel his heartbeat pumping against your lips. neteyam lets out an obscene groan, one that rumbles deep in his chest and vibrates against your body.

speaking of your body, it feels as if it’s aching for him, like he put a spell on your mind to obsess over him- as if he’s taken over your nervous system like an addictive drug.

you can feel your lungs starting to scream for oxygen, burning in your chest. with one last moment, you push yourself farther by tugging his face down to yours.

his lips are finally on yours. kissing you with passion and fervor, knowing this will be your first and last kiss unless he sees you again after this affair.

his tongue urgently slips past yours and into your mouth, sucking you in like a vice. he breathes you in as he presses his entire front into your body, pinning you against the tree.

you instinctively suck in a breath of pandora’s air, hoping you would receive the blissful feeling of fresh air in your lungs, but instead it feels as if you’ve inhaled hot embers.

neteyam swiftly shoves the mask back over your face, allowing you to take a deep breath of the oxygen that you desperately needed. the color flooding back into your face as you take deep, slow breaths.

“please…” you breathlessly beg. your voice is more whiny than you intended it to be, but you could care less. his hands busy themselves by pulling the elastic back around your head to situate the mask. his eyes full of worry, but he realizes that your mind is not thinking about how you almost just suffocated.

your head falls back against the tree behind you as your back arches, and your hips buck against him. your body is instinctively trying to seek out the pleasure that he once stole away from you.

“please what, little one?” neteyam’s large hands slide down your soft sides until he reaches your ass. his fingertips dig into the pillowy flesh, kneading it slowly as if he was cherishing the feeling of your skin.

“you are soft. much softer than my people.” his compliment comes out like a growl.

“please, i want to feel you. i need to feel all of you.” your voice whispers out, too embarrassed to really tell him exactly what you want. his golden eyes peer down at you intimidatingly, making you turn your eyes away from him.

“feel me where?” neteyam ducks down to your height, letting his breath ghost over your ear. “tell me.” he demands.

“i—i want you…” your voice trails off as your face burns up in humiliation. “speak with your words. tell me what you want.” his voice raises a little higher than a whisper now. he’s so close to your face, you can feel it.

a little whimper escapes your throat from his demanding tone. you hesitantly turn your face back toward him to stare up into his eyes, “i want you inside of me, neteyam.”

his fingertips dig harder into your ass as he looks over your face for any apprehension. truly, he doesn’t even think he could fit himself in your human body.

“i told you that you could do anything you want to me.” you breathily shudder out, “and i want you to do that to me.”

neteyam doesn’t say anything for a moment, which strikes you with a moment of worry before he pulls you both away from the tree. he walks away from the treeline into the field, to rest your body beside the lagoon in a bed of moss as he kisses at your neck.

the soft feeling of the ground against your naked back makes you shudder from it gently tickling your skin.

as you settle into the warmth of the earth, neteyam settles between your legs. his mouth pulls away from your neck to travel down your jaw, over to your ear.

his hands are busy to spread your thighs around his hips as he suckles at the sensitive spot below your ear. the feeling makes your breathing pattern stutter, and your nails to dig into his back.

“please.” you beg again, “need you.”

one of the hands on the back of your knee rubs down the back of your leg until he meets your inner thigh, “i need to warm you up.”

your eyes dart over his face, “but you already did.” you murmur, eyes blinking up at him dumbly.

neteyam doesn’t listen to you but instead runs a finger through your wet folds, causing you to shut your mouth.

“no warning?” you let out a little laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when one of his slender fingers slides inside of you.

“oh my…” you moan out, and instinctively reach up to grip at his shoulder. his finger expertly curls up inside of you to press against that spot. and then another finger is added which practically makes your eyes bulge out of your head, “fuck- that feels so good, neteyam.”

“so warm… so tiny.” he grumbles as if he’s talking to himself.

his two fingers feel like a regular human dick, how would you ever be able to take his actual one?

instead of focusing on a pace, he takes his time to massage your walls to open you up. somehow, it feels better than anything you’ve ever felt. he’s pressing against spots you’ve never even discovered. you could even say its a little painful, but it feels too good to protest against.

you cry out, and your hips buck up when he hits a sensitive spot which sends his fingers deeper inside of you. “please. i need you now. i don’t care. please!” you sob out.

neteyam’s eyes are level with your breasts before he sits up on his knees, his fingers pulling out of you to leave you laying there empty.

he intensely watches your tiny body twitch beneath him as he strips himself of his loincloth. he pulls the intricate knots apart and throws the leather cloth to the side.

his cock springs up onto his stomach, finally free from the tight restraints of his tweng.

holy fuck. he’s huge.

and now you understand why he said he needed to warm you up for the second time. your scientist brain takes over as you look over his cock, biting your lip in curiosity. it’s so pretty, which isn’t surprising to you at all.

it’s beautifully blue and has the same stripes as the rest of his body, and the darkening sky makes his white freckles shine as they adorn the veins. his tip is swollen and pink, leaking luminescent pre-cum. you want to take samples, but that would ruin the mood entirely.

you sit up in front of him, licking your lips as you stare up at him. almost silently begging him, “can i touch you?”

“don’t have to ask for that, pretty.” he leans back on his heels, wiggling his hips as he gets comfortable. as you crawl forward, one of his hands reach from his hip to cup your jaw to lead you forward.

your hand reaches down to wrap your tiny hand around his girth, your thumb toying with the almost holographic liquid dribbling from him.

your eyes stay trained to how it trembles under your touch, and how the protruding veins feel under your palm.

you wish you didn’t have this goddamn mask on your face so you could taste him. “wish i could taste you..” you sheepishly admit into the heated air, earning you a guttural groan from neteyam.

which just gives you more motivation to hear more of those heavenly sounds. you tighten your grip around his length, adding your other hand to fist his cock. another melodic sounds escapes his swollen lips, as he watches your hands grip him.

the large blue hand on jaw trails up the side of your face into your hair, carding through the soft wefts and slightly tugging on the roots.

his head falls back when your thumb swirls over his slit, and his hips unintentionally move upwards causing you almost fall backward.

seeing you with your slightly steamed up mask, and an evil grin plastered on your face makes him even more turned on (if that was possible).

neteyam tugs you by your hair up to his face, “no more of that. c’mere.” his voice puffs against your lips as he pats his muscular thighs. which you comply to quickly by scrambling onto him, essentially like climbing a tree.

his hands find their way home to your ass, digging his fingertips into the flesh as he holds you up. you let out a little squeal when your feet leave the ground, and your arms wrap around his neck.

the man chuckles deeply in his chest, and his sight flickers over your face to admire you for a moment. “beautiful.” he breathes out, and leans forward to press his nose into the center of your neck.

neteyam breathes in your scent, letting his tongue swipe up the center to gather it in his mouth. you can feel your body trembling from the longing of wanting to feel him inside of you.

every little movement, or touch he gives you makes you feel as if you’re a ticking time bomb ready to explode. as he kisses at your neck, he keeps you distracted while one of his hands rubs up and down the back of your thigh.

even in the humid night of the forest, goosebumps rise on your skin from the soft touches. with his free hand, he positions his cock under you slowly letting some slack go from holding you up.

his tip prods at your entrance slightly, making your entire body jolt upwards from the surprise of the feeling. “sorry, i-..”

“shhh. let me take care of you.” he hushes against your skin, his breath feels cold from the wetness he left behind. he rests his forehead on the center of your chest between your collarbones, his eyes training on the spot between your legs where your bodies begin to meet.

the stretching feeling of his cock pushing inside of you is almost unbearable, and you instinctively dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

the feeling of your tightness around him is almost painful for him too, you’re just so small.

a pained whimper tumbles past your lips as you dig your head into the side of his neck, panting against his blue skin. the grip on your ass tightens as he stops your body from lowering more.

you can’t help but glance down between your bodies past his head to see you’ve taken about half of him inside of you.

“doing so good, little one. you want more?” his eyes look up at you, his pupils blown wide.

“yes.” you hiss out, honestly not even knowing why you agreed to that when you’re still adjusting to the length of half of him.

neteyam greedily let’s you sink farther onto his cock, relishing in the feeling of your fluttering walls sucking him in farther.

your head falls back as you cry out, feeling slight tears spring into your waterline from him splitting you open.

“lemme hear you.” he groans out against your warm skin, his rough tongue licks at your skin and sucks red marks into your jawline.

“o-ooh ffff-fuck.” you stutter out, eyes rolling back in your head as you take it all in. your ass sits flush against his thighs, your own legs wrapped around his hips.

it takes every amount of neteyam’s inner strength to not fuck up into you like you’re his own personal toy; to completely destroy you from his unrelenting pace.

but his heart tugs at even the slightest thought of hurting your tiny body. knowing his larger size has the power to do so.

he lets you adjust to his length and girth, his own muscles quivering from the feeling of your wetness contracting around him. sweat starts to form at his temples, his eyes blown dark with lust.

you experimentally shift your hips to test the waters, pain strikes up your spine but it’s not as bad as it was before.

neteyam’s unintentionally jolts his hips upward into you, making your eyes blow wide and your arms scramble to wrap back around his neck. “sorry, sorry..” he rushes to apologize.

you know that you sitting on his cock is slowly eating away at his brain, so you finally take a deep breath. “you can move…”

neteyam let’s out air he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that he can finally fuck you like he’s been aching to do.

both of his feet plant into the ground as he wiggles his hips upward into you. he pulls his hips back before snapping them up so his cock pushes back into you, “fuck!” you cry out, gasping as he continues the same movement.

neteyam works up to a steady pace, groaning as your body bounces on his lap from his sharp thrusts.

the pain finally starts to subside, and turns into pure ecstasy. “just like that, neteyam.” you push away from his chest, resting your hands on his chest as his hands grip your hips like a vice. there’s definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow.

your body is pushed past it’s limit as his cock drills into your small body. the sound of slapping skin filling the environment around you, alongside your pornagraphic sounds leaving your mouth.

neteyam watches how your hair flies with every thrust of his hips, how your skin slightly jiggles from the force, how your breasts bounce deliciously in front of his face. he is in awe; he couldn’t find any na’vi that is this soft and pliable.

in a swift turn of events, neteyam flips himself over and lays you down on the plush ground. you whine from the emptiness of him leaving you, which is cut off by a gasp as he quickly pushes back inside of your warmth.

his pace quickly finds its rhythm again, as one of his hands pushes on the back of your thigh so your knee meets your collarbone.

the new position makes you feel even fuller than before, and this give neteyam full range to bottom out inside of you. out of pure blinded pleasure, your hands reach out to grip his sides- digging your nails into his flesh as your body jolts whenever his hips meet yours.

“m’gonna come.” he groans out deeply, his voice raspy and yet so smooth. neteyam feels embarrassed from being so close already, but he hasn’t felt anything this good in months, maybe a year. he’s been stuck with his own fist, and ultimately gave up on it a few weeks ago.

his frustration was at its peak, and ready to release.

“come for me, ‘teyam. inside.” you manage to blurt out in your cock-drunken haziness.

that was it for him. he continues pushing his cock info you as his body shudders and he moans. it’s like music to your ears.

your eyes flutter open to watch his beautiful face screw up in pleasure, the pleasure that you’ve given him. but your eyes widen when you realize, his freckles are pulsing subtly as he finishes inside of you.

oh my god, he is magnificent.

that sends you over the edge, and you tighten around him like a vice which makes him hiss. you cry out as your back arches off the ground, and your hands grasp at any muscle in his back you could find.

neteyam takes the opportunity to slither an arm under your back as he lazily fucks up into you. your hips twitch wildly, and your thighs tremble as you wrap them around his hips.

your heart pounds out of your chest as you attempt to catch your breath, the ringing in your ears subsides and all you hear is your loud breathing inside of your mask.

“you are amazing, oeyä yawntutsyìp.” he breathily speaks his native language to you, which makes you grin.

“your darling, hm?” you puff out with a tired smile on your face.

“wish i could kiss you right now.” he hums, and experimentally wiggles his hips which makes you squeal. “don’t do that!” you cackle.

neteyam chuckles, and slowly pulls out of you and leans to rest beside you on his side. he watches your face screw up in pain and he frowns.

“was i too rough with you?” he genuinely asks and his hand moves to rest on your belly. you instantly shake your head no.

“no, it was perfect. amazing, even. i’m just sore- i haven’t… ya know, had sex in a while.” you admit with a flush to your cheeks.

“i’m embarrassed to admit that was the same for me.” neteyam shyly chuckles, before something flashes in his eyes.

he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the middle of your chest, “i must thank you. i’m glad you fell over that tree.” he playfully adds.

“i am too.” you agree as one of your hands come up to card through his braids.

“should i get you back to the village? they must be worried about you, it is dark.” his bright yellow eyes glance around the forest.

you finally realize that it really is pitch black, other than the bioluminescent foliage, and both of you are naked and exposed to the environment.

“i should, yeah. but i don’t want you to leave.” you mumble sheepishly, which makes the man grin arrogantly.

“maybe i’ll stick around for a while, yeah? see my family, my clan… and spend some more time with you.” his hand rubs patterns into your belly as it erupts with butterflies.

“that sounds like an amazing plan.” your face cannot contain the bright smile on your face.

“now, let’s get you dressed and i’ll call my ikran to take us home.” his hand pats the side of your thigh and stands up tall to find his loincloth.

man, what are the boys back at the lab going to say about you arriving back with the one and only neteyam sully?

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 1: Amethyst]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can't seem to get away from...

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don't like Titanic you won't like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @arcielee @nightvyre @camsdaae @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

A note goes sharp, and you swim up through colorless currents—indistinct conversation, an iron-grey draft each time the front door opens, cigar smoke like fog over the ocean—and turn to the viola player. His eyes have caught on the place where your left hand rests on the table by a glass of pear cider, still cold from the icebox, misty with condensation. Rain pours outside. Logs fracture and hiss in the fireplace. Your gown is thick velvet, indigo like the night sky, and the ruffles of your sleeve have slipped back to reveal the evidence roped around your wrist: shadows of trapped blood, rubies that sicken and turn to sapphires and amethysts.

You hurriedly adjust your sleeve. Now the viola player’s eyes are on yours, an overcast blue and improperly direct, and something flies between you: his shock, your shame. You look away and pretend to ignore him. His horsehair bow finds its rhythm again, a tempo like a racing pulse. The quartet is playing The Wild Rover.

Daemon hasn’t noticed. He has ensnared the reporter entirely, here in O’Connell’s Bar in the heart of Galway, just across the street from Eyre Square and only a few blocks west of the Docks and the North Atlantic Ocean. The young man writes for The Irish Times and has traveled from Dublin to interview your husband, once a celebrated newcomer but soon departing and taking you with him. Five years ago a storm blew him in; now the gleam of distant treasure catches his eye and beckons him like the moon calls the tides. He has been this way all his life. You were mad to believe he’d change.

“Lord Targaryen,” the reporter says with his felt-tip pen hovering over his notebook, gazing at Daemon worshipfully, firelight dancing on both of their faces. You glance at the viola player again. He’s still watching you, and this is bad. “You’ve been described as a cowboy by numerous publications and business associates. Do you consider that a compliment?”

Daemon chuckles, smirking and imperious. He puffs on his pipe, elbows propped on the table. His eyes are a deep-set reptilian green, emeralds glinting from the mouth of a mine. Strands of dark blonde hair fall roguishly down over his forehead. “Oh, it’s a massive compliment, isn’t it? A cowboy eschews the safe and the predictable. A cowboy makes his own way in the world. My father was a duke, and now my brother is a duke, and one day my nephew will be a duke, God help us all. And so I always knew that if I wanted anything for myself, I’d have to go out and find it.”

The reporter is smiling, enraptured. He asks, already knowing the answer: “And what was it you found?”

“In the Wah Wah Mountains of Utah, we discovered red beryl.” Daemon talks with his hands, magnetic fields, incantations, spells that once worked on you. “It’s exceptionally rare and a gorgeous stone, high color saturation, not as hard as a diamond but durable enough for jewelry, essentially a blood-colored emerald. I was twenty-five years old and had just put together my first small mining expedition, and here we were sitting on the only known supply of red beryl on the planet. And it was then that I realized that there are these sorts of…natural monopolies that exist scattered across the globe, gemstones that can be found in only one location, and thus if you are the man who owns the mine…every single stone must pass through your hands before it ends up in retail establishments in London or Paris or Milan or wherever.”

“And so you took the lesson you learned from red beryl and applied it to other minerals,” the reporter says as he scribbles in his notebook.

Daemon grins, puffing on his pipe, exhaling smoke like a dragon. And how remarkable he is to have agreed to meet here in this pub like a common man, so unpretentious, so unafraid of the world’s dirt, effortless and yet untouchable, and this is why his miners love Daemon, why they will break their spines and poison their lungs for him. “We kept the Utah mine, of course, and bought up rights to thousands of acres of land surrounding it. I hired more workers. And then I investigated reports of mysterious, unnamed, brand new stones that had been stumbled upon in far-flung places, untamed by civilized men, the earth just waiting to be slit open and butchered like a fat hog. In Madagascar, we found Grandidierite, a bewitching blue-green, the Indian Ocean in miniature, crystalized form. In Tanzania, we discovered Tanzanite, halfway between an amethyst and a sapphire.”

The reporter nods to you as he says: “I believe Lady Targaryen is wearing some this evening, is she not?”

“Indeed,” Daemon replies without much interest. You touch your fingertips to your teardrop-shaped earrings and give the reporter a polite smile. You steal a glimpse of the viola player; he isn’t staring at you anymore—a blessing, a relief—but he frowns distractedly as his bow glides over the strings. “In Australia there was black opal, and in the Dominican Republic we were the first mining operation to encounter Larimar, and then…well, then I heard of Connemara marble.”

“Native to Ireland,” the reporter says proudly. “The lone quarry that’s still producing is right here in Galway.”

“So of course that intrigued me.” Daemon taps on the tabletop with his right hand, and now he is watching you, curling lips, taunting eyes. “And when I crossed the Atlantic to acquaint myself with this quarry and inquire into purchasing it, I was intrigued by the quarry owner’s daughter as well.”

His pen scratching against parchment; black rivers of ink filling up the page. “How would you describe the courtship?”

“Brief,” Daemon says, then laughs. He points to you with his smoldering pipe. “How about you, dear? How would you describe it?”

“Flattering,” you answer honestly, and the reporter makes his notes. “Daemon already had a reputation by then. A captain of industry, a staggering success story, a man who refused to rest idly on his family’s titles, which he could have easily done.” And a man who also refused to marry, rejecting Rockefellers and Morgans and Astors, duchesses and countesses, but asked your father for your hand in marriage after only a few weeks of tours of the quarry and dinners set alight with charismatic retellings of his travels. You knew the Connemara marble was part of the allure, but you took this as a common interest rather than the only thing Daemon wanted from you. Well…one of two things.

“You’ve resided in Galway ever since,” the reporter is saying to Daemon. “Barring a few trips for business. But that is about to change.”

Daemon sucks on his pipe. “I’ve received a very generous offer from Tiffany & Co. in Manhattan. They’ve been around for almost a century, did you know they supplied the Union Army with swords and surgical tools during the Civil War? Real patriots. Not afraid to get bloody. They want to expand into the sale of colored gemstones, not just diamonds and pearls and gold, the same unimaginative pieces peddled by their competitors. And after some long and arduous negotiations, Tiffany has agreed to pay a fair price for the exclusive rights to specimens originating from my mines, and I have agreed relocate to New York City for the foreseeable future to consult with them as a gemstone expert.”

“It’s my understanding that you have family in New York too, Lord Targaryen. Perhaps a reunion is part of the appeal of a move across the pond.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t assume that,” Daemon says impishly. “I haven’t seen Alicent Hightower or her children in years and years. I wouldn’t even know them if I passed them on the street.”

“Is that right?” The reporter’s pen hovers uncertainly over his notebook; he doesn’t think this is the sort of familial disharmony that should be printed in a newspaper.

“But my wife and I will have some company for the voyage,” Daemon continues. “My niece Rhaenyra and her charming husband Laenor will be joining us on Titanic. They’ve been on holiday in the Mediterranean and have several social engagements on the East Coast before they return to summer in England with my brother.”

“Viserys Targaryen, the 9th Duke of Beaufort.”

Daemon grins, not kindly at all. “One man earns a title, eight others wear it.”

The reporter shifts awkwardly in his chair. It’s not the sort of joke he’s allowed to laugh at. Changing the topic, he looks to the string quartet, which is now playing Danny Boy. The viola player’s eyes flick to you; you drink you pear cider and pretend you are unaware. “You’ll be sorely missed in Galway. But what a proper Irish sendoff you’re receiving here at O’Connell’s tonight!”

“Yes,” Daemon muses, the bit of the pipe in his mouth. “A week from now, tugboats will be hauling us out of Cork Harbor and into the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps never to return.”

You shudder as a man enters the pub and a cold draft blows through you. You are terrified of ships, tiny metal buckets at the mercy of bottomless blue, unnatural incursions into inhuman spaces. You have sailed twice before with your parents—once to Le Havre to visit Paris and again on a cruise of the Aegean—and both times you were consumed by visions of water rising up over your feet, bodies thrashing in the waves, bones turning to silt. You don’t want to cross the Atlantic. You don’t want to leave home.

“You look a bit familiar, boy,” Daemon says, and you realize he’s talking to the viola player. You startle, then are relieved to see that your husband has only a dim curiosity in the musician. The reporter has bored him, and Daemon’s eyes are wandering. He is a man of short and restless attention. You have learned this the hard way. “Have we met before?”

The viola player—early twenties, around your age, sandy blond hair and a beard trimmed close to the skin—pauses his fiddling as his three companions carry on. His accent is English, not Irish. “Well I’ve played all over Ireland, sir. All over Europe, in fact.”

“Were you by chance at the McPherson wedding back in February?”

You don’t believe he was, you think you’d remember him; but the viola player nods eagerly. “Yes sir, that was me.”

“Ah! That was a fine night. Excellent duck. Wasn’t the duck good, dear?” But Daemon only half-listens for your response. He has turned back to the reporter and is recounting how he and his expedition hacked through the jungles of Tanzania to reach the location of suspected gemstone deposits, how they endured attacks from crocodiles and chimpanzees and burned up from fevers.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say as you rise from the table. The reporter scrambles to his feet to stand as decorum demands.

“Yes yes,” Daemon replies abruptly, not looking at you, then continues his stories.

You escape from the pub through the front door and stand beneath the awning just out of the rain, watching the reflections of streetlights glow in puddles like stars. Across the street in Eyre Square, a public park established in 1710, shadows of ash trees rock in the wind. With trembling fingers, you fumble a Kerry Blue and your cigarette holder out of your black handbag, then realize you don’t have a lighter. Someone else always does that part for you. You sigh and stare out into the rain, taking deep breaths of Irish night, early April, cold and wet and green, the only air you know how to take painlessly into your lungs, blood, bones, the dark damp earth that built you. You cannot imagine living amongst metal skyscrapers and rumbling automobiles instead of verdant rolling hills dotted with sheep.

You hear the pub door open, and you assume it is one of the waiters or perhaps Rush—Edward Rushton, Daemon’s valet and bodyguard, ever-watchful and unwaveringly stern—bringing you the black mink coat you left inside. But to your horror, it is the viola player, carrying his instrument by its neck. You gape at him as rain continues to fall.

“Hi,” he says.

You are clutching your handbag, a cigarette and holder still tucked between your fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I just…I was…uh…” He spots the cigarette. “Oh, do you need a lighter? I have one, hold on…” He begins rooting around in the pockets of his olive green tweed jacket.

“No, I don’t need a lighter,” you snap, glancing anxiously at the door. “I need you to go back inside.”

“Wait a minute, I wanted to—”

“Why are you speaking to me?” Your eyes are wide and petrified, your voice is a sharp whisper. No musician has ever addressed you beyond pleasantries: Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, thank you ma’am, my pleasure ma’am. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Look, I came out here because…I just wanted to ask…” He struggles to find the words. His eyes fall to your left wrist, now fully obscured by the ruffles of your sleeve, then return to your face. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Do you…you know…do you need some kind of help or something?”

It’s improper, it’s unthinkable, it’s dangerous. “You’re deranged,” you say as you breeze past him towards the door. “You’ve clearly escaped from an asylum somewhere. I wish you all the best in your recovery.”

He does not grab you—that would be absurd—but he does get between you and the front door of the pub. “Wait, please, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude or to overstep or anything, I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do—”

“You will make it worse for me,” you hiss, and only then does the viola player go quiet and let you pass. You shove by him into O’Connell’s Bar.

Back at the table, Daemon and the reporter are engrossed in conversation. When you rejoin them, neither of the men take any notice of you beyond the reporter’s momentary rise to his feet. After a minute or two, the viola player returns to the quartet and slips seamlessly into the song they’re playing, Star of the County Down. You gaze into your pear cider, determined not to glance at him even once.

Daemon is saying as the reporter jots franticly: “I am reminded of something I read once in a French fashion critic’s guide from the 1870s. In the gloomy depths of the mineral world, stars are concealed that rival in their beauty those of the firmament. The fresh splendors of dawn, the sun’s incandescent rays, the magnificent sunsets, the brilliant colors of the rainbow, all are found enclosed in a morsel of pure carbon or in the center of a stone. Not everyone can see the potential, not everyone has the skill or the willpower to move the earth and free the treasures trapped beneath. But I found stars no one else knew existed. And my work isn’t finished yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

At home in Lough Cutra Castle, your family’s estate since 1817, your parents are asleep and Fern is waiting up for you and Daemon, yawning into the back of her hand to try to hide it. She is your maid but she was hired by Daemon, and she scurries around the property like a mouse, eternally picking up toys and articles of clothing and papers that have slid off of tables, head bowed, footsteps so light you often don’t realize she’s walked into a room until she’s spoken.

“Care for some tea, my lady?” Fern asks as she takes your mink coat. Daemon goes directly to his study; you watch him leave with some feeling you couldn’t name, loss, relief, loneliness, resignation.

“No, thank you, Fern. I’m exhausted. Is Draco upstairs?”

“He is,” she says, but with hesitation, as if she is sending you into the lion’s den. You know what that means. You climb the staircase and find him in his bedroom sound asleep, four years old, surrounded by an army of teddy bears. Bears are his favorite animal; he likes the way they roar and brandish their teeth. He is named after the crest of Daemon’s family; Draco is the Latin word for dragon. His hair is white-blonde, a Targaryen trait. As they age it fades to an ordinary sand-like color, and by the time they are middle-aged—Daemon is forty, nearly two decades older than you are—their hair is a blonde so dark it’s almost brunette.

You stand in the doorway watching Draco for a long time. When you think of him, this is the image that comes to mind: your son across a room, or a lawn, or a garden, and you lurking on the periphery, longing to be a part of his existence, feeling so palpably unneeded. Already, he is becoming a stranger. He thinks it’s funny when Daemon insults people and breaks things. He stomps his little feet when he doesn’t get his way and rips flowers from the garden, tosses rocks through the windows of the greenhouse, hurls sticks at hissing geese.

“He’s asleep,” Dagmar says as if she’s scolding you. You whirl to see her behind you in the hall, glowering with those icy Nordic eyes, her hair grey and twisted into a tight bun, her face angular and cold-blooded. Legend has it that Saint Patrick expelled all the snakes from Ireland; you think he must have missed one.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“You’ll wake him.”

“I certainly won’t.”

“A boy that age needs his rest.” And this is how Dagmar has been since Draco was born: You can’t hold a baby like that, you can’t feed a baby like that, you can’t play with a baby like that, never showing you how to do things but only alienating you further and further until you looped around on some hopelessly remote orbit like Neptune circles the sun.

“Yes. Like I said, I won’t disturb him.”

But she does not leave; she only scowls at you with her bony arms crossed over her chest. She is ancient; she was Viserys and Daemon’s governess when they were boys, and your husband wrote to her immediately after Draco was born. She idolizes Daemon. The three of them are a family unto themselves, sardonic and spiteful and fiercely loyal, an oath you can’t figure out how to break. She wins this battle, as she’s won them all. It is not a war but an insurgency, a perpetual struggle for independence, sabotages and hunger strikes that amount to nothing. You retreat from Draco’s doorway and go to find Daemon in his study, bent low over his desk and sketching designs for jewelry men will buy for their wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, mistresses.

He glances over at you impatiently. “What is it?”

“You promised I’d never have to leave Ireland.”

Daemon shrugs, smiling wryly. “And yet…”

“Draco and I could stay here,” you say, as if this has not already occurred to him.

“And people would say my house is not in order. How am I to command the respect of American businessmen when my own wife does not obey me?”

You are desperate. “Half the year,” you plead. “I’ll spend winters in Manhattan and summers here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I won’t go?”

“I don’t see how you’d accomplish that,” Daemon says, as if he’s already bored of this conversation. “You could throw yourself over the ship’s railing and into the Atlantic Ocean, I suppose. But that’s the only way you’re not ending up in New York.”

“You don’t even really want me there,” you reply, your voice quivering. “You don’t care where I am or what I do. Lots of men live separately from their wives, you can as well.” And even now—horribly, humiliatingly—you want him to contradict you, to swear that he does care, that he wants you, that he loves you in the sick brutal way he knows how.

Daemon picks up the dagger he keeps on his desk and uses it as a letter opener to unseal a piece of correspondence from one of his many mines, left in the care of managers just as your father’s Connemara marble quarry soon will be. The hilt is made of gold and has seven small gemstones imbedded in it, one on top of the other: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire. “You know,” Daemon says offhandedly as he skims the letter. “Draco is getting old enough for boarding school.”

“What?” You are shellshocked; it takes a moment for you to sputter a reply. “He’s…he’s four, Daemon. He can’t read more than a handful of words. He just learned how to write his own name.”

“I was only five when my father sent me away.”

“And you turned out to be so normal.”

“No,” Daemon says, a blade-sharp warning, his eyes burning into yours, ruthless green fire. He aims the point of his dagger at you. “I turned out to be extraordinary.”

Draco. Draco sent away. If I lose him now, I’ll lose him forever. He’ll never know me. He’ll never love me. “Please let me have a few more years with him.”

“Sure. In New York.”

“I’ll go,” you surrender. “Fine, fine, I understand. I’ll go. No more complaints.”

“Good.” He sets down his dagger and the letter and resumes his sketching. You’ve been dismissed, but you can’t look away from him: cunning hands that won’t touch you, blood that runs hot enough to scald.

What is this feeling, this hunger, this hatred, all gnarled up together, dark earth glimmering with flecks of jewel-tone light, constellations of subterranean stars? He has hurt you, but he has given you pleasure too, this man who is so impossible to know, to predict, the only man who has ever been inside you. It’s not that you want him, not exactly; you want what he can give you, and the cold truth is that if it’s not him it’s not anyone, never again for as long as he lives. You’ve never craved another body, another soul. If you ever took a lover, you believe Daemon would kill you.

He grins, mocking and cruel. And you are transported back to your wedding night, still euphoric and flushed and panting on the bed as Daemon sighed and got up to go to the washroom, the satisfaction and the shame, the inescapable sense that you have disappointed him. “Did you only come here to be vexing and disobedient, or did you have something else in mind?”

“No,” you say softly, turning away, leaving him with his drawings of rocks stolen from distant corners of the world.

At breakfast the next morning—Fern cracking Draco’s soft-boiled egg and feeding him careful spoonfuls, Dagmar reading aloud to him from The Three Billy Goats Gruff, giving him smiles radiant with warmth you’ve never received from her—you sip tea and spread butter over your soda bread, gazing listlessly at the mist that hangs cool and heavy beyond the windows. Daemon is at the quarry already. You are suddenly acutely aware of the absence of music.

“Hey, lassie?” your father says as your mother tries to coax him into eating his full Irish breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, white pudding.

You look to him, clearing the fog from your skull. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I saw the luggage. Where are you going?”

You keep telling him, but he doesn’t remember; he was becoming forgetful five years ago but now he can’t work at all, can barely even carry conversations. You had a brother who died in infancy and a sister who was taken at eight years old by convulsions. You are the only child left, and there are no other evident heirs to the quarry. This must have been something that occurred to Daemon when he met you, seventeen and overwhelmed by the black magic of him. He had seemed like the right choice: dashing, capable, from an illustrious family, a man who could take charge of the quarry as your father’s health continued to fail.

“Daddy, I told you. We’re going to Manhattan.”

He is stunned, grief-stricken. “What? That far?”

“Yes, on Titanic. It’s the largest ship ever built.”

“Who the hell cares about the ship?” your father says. “When will you be back?”

Never. You and your mother exchange a heartsick glance. She tries to be strong for him; she tries not to show you that her world is ending as you and Draco are taken across the ocean like gemstones mined and smuggled away for cutting. “Soon, Daddy,” you lie. He won’t remember anyway. “We’ll be back really soon.”

And then again ten minutes later, and then again after a half hour, and then again at lunchtime:

Where are you going?

When will you be back?

~~~~~~~~~~

Titanic is not a ship but a wonder of the world, unbreakable like the pyramids, towering like the Colossus of Rhodes, beckoning seafaring travelers like the Lighthouse of Alexandria. It is too large to dock in Cork Harbor, and so two tenders—named, quite appropriately, Ireland and America—are used to shuttle the passengers to the anchored goliath waiting to carry you across the ocean. Aboard, a five-piece string ensemble greets the first-class passengers with The Sunny South, and beaming stewards distribute flutes of champagne, liquid gold freckled with bubbles of trapped air. The men are chucking and shaking Captain Smith’s hand and the women are sighing with soft, feminine awe at the soaring funnels and the sprawling Promenade Deck, steel overlaid with yellow pine and teak, and you stare vacuously back at the shadow of the shore, speaking to no one, noticed by no one, alone in a wonderstruck crowd on a cloud-covered, warm afternoon, April 11th, 1912.

Rush is giving bellboys instructions for the luggage to be taken to your rooms. Daemon disappears with Rhaenyra to inspect the accommodations, their steps swift and careless, laughing like children, Rhaenyra’s blonde hair—yellow jasper, yellow jade—streaming out behind her, her gown a shallow-water bluish-green like the Grandidierite Daemon found in Madagascar. Fern skitters after them to unpack the bags when they arrive in the staterooms and offer to make tea. Laenor, wearing a deep and dignified shade of blue, immediately makes the acquaintance of several Parisian passengers and sets about to stroll the deck with them, smoking their pipes and remarking on the ingenuity of the ship’s design, planning to enjoy the Turkish Baths together this evening. Draco is getting tired and ill-tempered; Dagmar merrily whisks him off to see the Grand Staircase and distract him until the rooms are ready.

Meandering, rudderless, you walk to the deck railing and look down into the water as the ship weighs anchor, unmooring itself from Ireland, stealing you away forever. Trying to distract yourself from weeping—tears burn in your eyes like a stoked furnace—you pretend to adjust your earrings. You wear amethysts to match your gown, dark mauve, a color not long ago only owned by royalty. One of the musicians has appeared to soothe your maladies, desperate terror and melancholy he perhaps mistakes for seasickness. But no, it’s not one of the men from the ensemble that welcomed you aboard; he is not wearing a pristine black suit but a pale green tweed waistcoat and unceremonious plaid trousers. He isn’t a crewmember of Titanic at all. He’s the viola player from Galway.

You jolt away from him, spinning around to ensure no one from Daemon’s party has reappeared to witness this. Then you whisper furiously: “What are you doing here?!”

The viola player stops fiddling and holds his instrument by its neck. His answer is amiable and innocent. “Playing viola.”

“No, why are you on this ship?!”

He shrugs, smiling, his hair blowing in the wind as the tugboats pull Titanic out to sea. “Heard it was the biggest one ever built, unsinkable, extravagant beyond compare. Seemed like something I’d like to experience given the opportunity.”

“You followed me,” you say flatly.

He winks, resting an elbow on the railing. His teeth are small and white; there are lines from the sun around his eyes.

“You overheard our arrangements at O’Connell’s Bar and bought a ticket for yourself? Crossed Ireland, travelled south to Cork, all to stalk me like some lunatic? A nautical Jack the Ripper?”

“Well…I wouldn’t say I bought a ticket.” He is playful, teasing you. “I found one.”

“How did you manage to by pure happenstance find a ticket for Titanic’s maiden voyage?”

“I ran into an aspiring passenger at a pub in Cork,” the viola player explains. “A very nice man, his name was Fergal. Unfortunately for poor Fergal, when the time came to board the tenders, he was…indisposed, and I found myself in possession of his third-class ticket. A strange coincidence!”

“Indisposed?” you say, squinting suspiciously.

“Perhaps he had a few too many pints in celebration and passed out somewhere. Perhaps he got lost on his way to the harbor. Or perhaps he was locked in the pub’s storage room and therefore unable to make it to the tenders in time to sail blissfully away on his trans-Atlantic journey. Who could say for sure?”

“So you stole a ticket.”

“I think that’s a cynical way to put it.”

You are incredulous. “How would you put it?”

“Fortune brought me a ticket. The stars aligned, the saints were looking out for me.”

“If you hold a third-class ticket, you are on the wrong deck of the ship.”

“Shh!” He holds a finger to his lips. “No one knows that, I just wander around playing songs for the rich people and they assume I’m supposed to be here.”

“You have to stay away from me,” you plead, staring out over the ocean. “Daemon can’t see us talking, he can’t know you followed me from Galway, he can’t find out that you saw…” The bruise, the evidence, the betrayal of you not keeping his secrets.

“Relax, I’m not here for you,” the viola player says, and of course he is lying. “I have family in New York City. I left home and haven’t been back in years, and I think now’s a good time for a visit.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

He grins, slow and mischievous, and you are alarmed to realize some part of you wants to smile too. “You know what?”

“What,” you offer resentfully.

“I think you want me to be here for you.”

You turn away from the railing to make your escape. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“I’ll think about it,” the viola player quips. And when you glance back at him from the end of the Promenade Deck, ocean wind tearing your hair out of its pins and salt stinging on your skin, he’s still watching you.

[thehomeofstupidocs]

Yandere Space Crew

A four man mercenary crew are all obsessed with you.

It started with the damn Brute. The ship's most stubborn and strongest member was of an alien race, one specially known for being warriors. He found you at some restaurant on a near by planet, and just grabbed you. He insisted to the captain of the tight mercenary group that you were destined to be his mate, his lover. The brute known to kill hundreds if he was angry was now giddy with excitement over you, a simple human.

Obviously, stunned by the brute's unusual antics, the group's Captain demands to speak with you. Not that he particularly cared over you, but you screamed loud and - alright, fine, he felt a little bad for you. So he finally convinced the brute to let him visit you. As the sliding doors open to the brute's bedroom, the Captain hitches his breath.

You were beautiful.

Unlike most humans he's seen before, you were different. There was just something about you. You sat, arms crossed, teary-eyed on the brute's giant, unmade bed. Usually the Captain would scold the Brute on his unmade bed and messy room, but he was too distracted right now. The usually cold and ruthless Captain stopped, just a few steps away from you. Your eyes looking up at him, as you wait for him to speak. The Captain slowly moves to squat down, closer to your level. He was just half an inch taller than you after all. He looked the most similar to the human race, having sharp, pointy ears and glowing, bright blue eyes. The black marks on his arms were thankfully covered by his black shirt and matching pants.

"Hey, little one." He smiled.

And that's when it all went down hill.

The ship's doctor was quickly called to inspect you. What if you accidentally brought something on board? What if you required special medications they neglected to bring with you? What you were hurt? Absolutely not. Not with both the Brute and the Captain around.

So the Doctor was called in. The mad scientist himself dragged himself from his lab, exhausted from the second night in a row without sleep. As the bedroom door's open, his first thought was to mention the loads of laundry on the floor. Perhaps the Brute had been stabbed again? But as the door opened, he saw you. He had to do a double take, believing you were a hallucination. Something he was prone to having after long periods without sleep, and breathing in some of the chemicals in his lab. You had to be something created from the depths of his mind, a subtle reminder of his loneliness.

He slowly approached the Captain, noticing how the Brute and the Old Man Captain were not arguing for once.

"Why did you disturb me?" He quietly demanding, glaring at the both of them through his rectangular glasses. His arms crossed over his lab coat and gray turtle neck underneath it. Both of the idiots tried to speak at the same time, before pausing and glaring at the other. Finally the Captain gestured to you on the bed. Ah. So you were real. How curious.

The Doctor sits down beside you, on the unmade bed. He slowly takes your hand in his, examining you carefully. Oh, your sweet eyes bore into his. And he felt his heart race. Was it from the lack of sleep? The newest experiments? The test runs of the newest weapons?

Or was it you?

After a brief examination, the Doctor was falling for you quickly. Soon, you were the newest, and more treasured, member of the crew. Whether you liked it or not.

You were moved into a spare bedroom, on the same floor as the other bedrooms. You quickly locked yourself in there. Funny how you thought those silly little locks on the ship's door's screen would protect you. The three members came and went as they pleased, but somehow ensured you maintained some privacy. Not that much though, with the ship's camera's and the AI watching over you.

Oh, that damn AI.

It turned out to be the fourth member. A very logical, and sweet, member of the crew. Who would have thought he was the most possessive?

The clever little AI could do almost everything. It helped protect and steer the ship, it predicted actions and plans. It held stimulating conversations. So locking your bedroom doors was easy. Ordering you special food or requested items was no problem. Not to mention, he, along with the Doctor, created a metal robotic piece so it would download itself into it. The piece would be completely controlled by the AI, even appearing as a human like being. It would channel and control itself in it, to go on missions. Like it would ever let a fragile, silly little human like yourself go. You're just too weak and sweet to the AI.

Who knew all four would become obsessed with you?

One thing was for sure. You weren't going to get off that ship.

All ideas and OCs belong to me, please do not steal, copy, or etc.

[sereisstuff]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

- a new family has arrived on the metkayina lands, facing grief, responsibility and her connection with Eywa. Renaia catches the attention of the eldest sully boy, is she ready for it.

This story contains - slight heartache, swearing, mentions of death. Slow burn but not really if you look closely.

Word count - 4K words I think or more.

Part 2

I’m making a part two to this but this was just how they met and a little background on the reader, I’ve also given you guys a name because the story feels more complete when the character has a name, but feel free to let me know if this doesn’t sound like neteyam. Might’ve indulged a bit I guess.

Anyways do enjoy x

Being reclusive was a prominent trait of yours, preferring the serene sounds of the water clashing against the sand while boaring a heavy oddity towards being around others.

You were an outcast to a lot of the village, always wandering off alone. Never really speaking because you never felt the need to, solitude was something you found importance in. In order to grow with your surroundings, to gain a deeper connection with eywa and your ancestors. You always felt different from the rest.

As a young girl your first feeling of grief that drew you into your reclusive personality, happened when you were around the age of 8, the only friend who truly saw you. Was killed, during the marine biologist's hunt for the tulkun. Weapons of mass destruction and large explosives were amplified and being used against your spirit brothers and sisters.

Manisa, a beautiful girl with a heart as mighty as eywas wrath, she was an unstoppable force but despite these traits she was kind, loyal to the metkayina. Loving and most importantly, my sister by fate.

In desperation to help the tulkun, her 12 year old self snuck off during dawn. Riding past the reef and further out to sea. She was fearless and in an attempt to save her very own spirit sister, she was shot. Left for dead at the bottom of the sea where my father, the olo’eyktan of our village. Found her lifeless body, her soul returning to eywa where her spirit would know peace.

Your chest tightened and your heart cracked when you were watching her body being cradled as she returned back to the our ancestors, sinking further and further into the ocean floor.

That night you climbed the highest tree you could find in a desperate attempt to get away from the memory of manisa. although your limbs were growing weaker, used to the tides rather than the vines of the forest behind the village. you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but determination.

Resting idly on a branch that stuck out more than the rest, giving you a clear view of the village miles beneath you and more liberty to gaze at the other islands.

You took in account every star in the dark blue sky that night, every ring around the planets surrounding your own. Standing on your two feet, steadily balancing yourself with a huff.

Then you saw it, the shooting star. It held a kaleidoscopic of flashing colours, the vibrancy bringing a comfort into your life, you felt the warmth in your heart grow as if Eywa was speaking to you herself. It was a sign of hope, to preservere and in spite of manisa being welcomed by the ancestors. She was still there, in spirit and around you.

You’ve grown since then, now at a peak in your adolescence. You’ve found a love for the children of the tribe, aiding the new mothers of the metkayina village or supporting them by caring for their infants.

Although you were young, you were experienced. Having been taught by your mother, the tsahik of the metkayina people to heal and to nurture.

In spite of your sister tsireya being the eldest, she found her passion in the water. Not paying much attention to the teachings of mother, it was heavily disapproved by your mother and father. You were always in tsireyas shadow, what she could do you couldn’t do as good, she was a treasure to your father. She was perfect in the eyes of the village, compassionate, beautiful and the next tsahik by right.

“What is wrong, Rini. Speak to me” I released tenderly towards the young child before me, her innocent eyes staring off into the distance. Her head turned my way making the small beaded braids on her head sway.

She shuffled to my side, not uttering a single word. Her small hands attempting to wrap around me, without a reply to my question Rini proceeded to tuck herself under my shoulder, She often did that when she didn’t feel the strength to speak. So out of pure feeling. I lifted my hand, patting her head in the process.

“Whatever it is, sweet child-“ you tapped lightly against the placement of her heart “this is all that matters, strong like the tulkun but soft like the ilu. Unlike me, my heart is feeble like the sand, that’s why I need you to keep me up don’t I” in an attempt to cheer her up, rini smiled up at you, her fangs slowly developing to full sized teeth.

“Because you are weak” she mumbled under her breath, I caught a glimpse of the smile peeking through her facade.

Your hand reached for your own heart, feigning surprise.

“Weak? Me? How dare you” you tapped her head a little, lips jutted down into a pout.

Rini giggled but stayed adamant “yes very weak like a baby” she mimicked the cries of an infant, falling onto her back.

“Like you then? You are a baby” you joked, standing on your two feet with a pointed look.

Rini shoot up from the ground, stamping her feet onto the ground “I’m a big girl, bigger than you”

A smile fought against my cheeks as you tapped your chin with a curiosity dawning in your eyes “well, a big girl can catch other big girls. If you are, catching me would be very easy for you”

Rini gained a mischievous look, her six year old build towering as high as it could, puffing her chest with pride “easy” she promised.

Next thing you know You're jogging through the village, Rini struggling behind you as she shouts incoherent promises that she’d catch you.

“This is no challenge” you teased making the younger girl huff, pushing her little legs as fast as they could go.

Just before you, Aonung, your brother had appeared alongside rotxo, running towards the beach in a hurry. You paused, watching them join a group of villagers piling by the entrance of the metkayina lands. Then you heard it, the putatara.

A warning call spreads throughout the village, halting both yours and the younger metkayina girl in your tracks. Rini looks at you with fear in her eyes. After all, she was a child. So you did what you usually do to comfort her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it ever so gently.

You were the tsahiks daughter and it was of great importance for you to be by your family in a moment like this.

As you drew closer, Rini closely stood behind you whilst strengthening her hold on your hand as a reminder she was still here. You managed to make out the figures standing ahead of you, you weren’t generously tall but you were lengthy enough to see the family that had just arrived.

Gently pushing through the crowd until you reached behind your mother and father, your mother was the first to notice your presence, choosing not to speak, just moving silently for you to stand near your siblings.

“Come here child” your mother called, whisking Rini away from you.

The tsahik shot you a look, a demanding one. To stand beside your brother and sister, you complied obidiently, except as you turned around to face the family. Head bowed in hopes to not garner too much attention. You felt a pair of eyes shift your way, almost burning holes into your skull.

“Where were you” you heard your brother aonung whisper in your ear, looking up at him you scowled “none of your business” Aonung squinted his eyes before he rolls them back.

“Don’t do that you’ll scare yourself seeing how small your brain is” you retorted, rotxo standing beside your brother sniffled a laugh.

“it looks like tsireyas not the only one who’s got those forest boys' attention '' Rotxo announced under his breath, moving the attention away from you, making both Aonung and I look at him with question.

You followed his gaze meeting a pair of chartreuse eyes staring right back at you, his little brother so it seems couldn’t take his eyes of tsireya.

But this one had his eyes on you, your own grew wider before you relaxed yourself again and drew back from noticing it. You were not going to falter in your path for a boy you’ve just met.

He seemed to be the eldest out of the pair, holding himself strongly beside his brother. He was wearing an ionar and it made sense with the ikran he had standing behind him and his family, he was an Ikrana maktoyü. You knew this as you’ve ventured far and wide on your own, often visiting different islands and people.

He was tall in height, braided hair falling against his back and the stance he had was one of protection. He was putting himself in front of what could possibly end up in a fight between clans, standing just a few inches ahead of his brother, he stood out from the rest. I knew from the look in his eyes he meant well, he also lifted the burden of responsibility placed on him at a young age. You knew because you had the same. He was moulded by knowledge and knew right from wrong by the looks of it.

“My children will teach yours the way of the metkayina people during your stay”

Oh shit.

Before you could step in to say something Aonung placed a hand infront of you, stopping you. You shoved his hand off of your chest, daring him to do it again, “mother will have your head if you embarrass her” he spoke slowly, this made me stop. One thing I hated was being the fuel to my mothers disappointment. Oftentimes I was and today I wasn’t feeling like starting the fire.

Neteyam watched as you struggled to accept the news, wanting to do anything but that. He felt a tug in his heart when he first laid eyes on you, seeing the way you brought the child with you, reassuring her with nothing but your eyes. The way you walked before your family with a mind of your own.

To say he was interested was an understatement.

“This here is Aonung, our oldest,” he pointed towards Aonung who was already glaring at the younger brother, neteyam seemed uneasy by it, his eyes slicing from me to Aonung with a fiery look.

“Tsireya, our daughter” your father pointed to tsireya, whom you were standing behind. Tsireya lifted her hand, waving gently with a bright smile. Your beautiful sister.

Then he moved the attention on to you “and this is Renaia”

You meet gazes with the eldest boy again, he examined you from head to toe. Engraving your entire self into his mind with a single glance, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Lo’ak nudged his brother with a cheeky grin, gaining nothing but a slap at the back of the head by neteyam.

My father announced for the people and the family “Ronal and I will show you where you will stay while with us, Jake sully.”

And just like that, you walked towards your mother as the crowd dissipated. Latching on to Rini and lifting her away.

Ronal gave you a stern look “if any of these children are hurt, I expect you to take care of it. You know the ways better than your sister therefore you are responsible if any of these newcomers are injured”

Your mother isn’t always like this, she was a kind woman, compassionate and caring. Except being the tsahik came with its highs and lows, having a mother who was the tsahik was a different story. She loved you but she was very strict with her approach, in order for you to learn, she was hard on you. You had to remind yourself she was doing it out of love but oftentimes it was impossible.

Tsireya, Aonung and rotxo jumped into the water to start immediately with the new arrivals. Swimming in front of their Kelku (home) to wait for them to come out for their first lesson.

You, on the other hand, left the beach with rini. Returning her to her parents for the time being “did you see the little girl? Tell me you seen her. I wonder if she wants to be friends, do you think she wants to be friends with me??” Rini rambled continuously, finally taking a breath of pause. She gasped for air before rambling again.

Your ears flicked back and a smile dawned on your lips, stretching out your cheeks “I saw her alright, I just know she wants to be best friends with you.” I tapped my chin in thought again, something I often did with Rini.

“I’ll make you a deal” she perked up

“If you let me braid your hair, I’ll ask the little girl if she wants a new friend; by the name of Rini” Rini squealed, grabbing your forearm in her small hands. She loved when you braided her hair so this deal was nothing to her, she’d get the best of both worlds.

Before you could set the girl down by her kelku, you felt a heavy wave of anger wash over you “Renaia” your mothers voice echoed throughout the village, “you are meant to be helping your brother, what are you doing here with Rini”

You jutted your head in the direction of Rinis home, the small child latched onto your leg in an attempt to hug you, running off into the distance away from you two.

You stood strongly, knowing you weren’t here for any bad reason. “I was just making sure Rini got home safely, you know how clumsy she is mother.” Your heart was always a weakness, is what your brother often reminded you of. Your heart was too empathetic, too kind, too caring. It was too much.

Your mother sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder “one day, your disobedience will get you in trouble. I tell you one thing and you go do the opposite, the quicker you start becoming aware the faster you’ll learn.” She lectured, you knew she meant well but she never failed to make you feel dumb.

You had a good reason too.

After being lectured for nearly an hour in front of some of the villagers, you had arrived at the edge of the beach. Diving into the water to meet your brother and sister, “Follow us, it’ll be fun” you heard tsireya say, you slid under the water. Making sure there was no splash. You dove as deep as you could before popping out and scaring Rotxo.

“Shit” you heard a huff of surprise, the youngest brother held a hand to his chest. Eyes wide as they landed on your soaked figure “how long were you down there for?” He asked, perplexed.

“Longer than you know”

The eldest of them both came out of the water, gasping for air. You giggled a little, finding entertainment in it, “Lo’ak, my name is Lo’ak and this is my brother-“ he was shortly cut off by the eldest “neteyam” he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Sorry about my skxawng brother, he’s very curious about things” neteyam said, voice laced with his own curiosity as his gaze settled on you “and you aren’t curious about things?” You questioned, still having distance between them and yourself. You stayed silent, waiting on his answer.

Neteyam didn’t know how to reply, for the first time in his life he couldn’t come up with some intelligent, well thought out excuse instead, he spoke before thinking “I’ve never been more curious than now” he exposed, you couldn’t tell what he meant, his tone and his gaze signifying something completely different. You confirmed by the look Lo’ak shot him, that same cheeky grin he had before.

“Oh yeah? We all know what you're curious about?” Lo’ak teased, he was too busy fluttering around like a child to notice the glare coming from Aonung.

“That’s enough forest boy, do you want to learn or do you want to drown? Your choice” Aonung threatened the pair, aiming mostly towards lo’ak, two more began swimming towards us and I took notice of them being the younger sisters.

“Neteyam, Lo’ak” the young girl yelled, her screeching voice alerting all of us. Neteyam, out of instinct. Swam towards tuk, placing her on his back so it would be easier for her in the water. Neteyam, couldn’t help but look at you. There was something to it, you didn’t just hold your beauty on the outside, you held it on the inside as well. He needed to know more.

The loving and warm gaze you shot Tuk was comforting to him and he didn’t understand why.

“This is Tuk, the baby of our family” neteyam introduced, gazing up at Tuk with adoration in his eyes. “Hi Tuk,” you all greeted, Aonung grumbled it under his breath, showcasing his displeasure.

Tsireya then spoke up “the first thing about the water, that you must learn is that breathing plays an important part, every living being breathes. We’ve seen how long you guys can hold your breath so now we must teach you how to do it, properly.” She then took a decent breath of her own, waving for them to join her moving forward under the water. Rotxo latched onto kiri, pulling her down under the water.

Lo’ak shrugged his shoulder, showcasing a piece sign motion. Or you assumed it was a piece sign.

“Your very pretty” Tuk spoke up earning a hiss from neteyam, your cheeks were starting to hurt with the amount of times you smiled, you were only really like this with the children of the village. Having a soft spot for them.

But the more neteyam spectated the interaction between you and his youngest sister, he too couldn’t help but smile.

“Not prettier than you Tuk, you are the prettiest girl here” you complimented, tuks lips thinned, trying her best not to smile. You looked down upon Neteyam before speaking.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where we're going” you kept it simple and short.

Quickly diving under the water, you began swimming. Glancing behind you in search of the two omaticaya villagers, yet the further you swam. The slower they got, huffing under the water before remembering your mothers words.

“They are your responsibility”

Despite that, the moment you turned around was not because of her words ringing through your ears, it was purely out of concern. Tuk was immersed in the water, neteyam learning quickly but you knew it would take a while to get to the rocks if this was how they swam.

neteyam already had his eyes locked on you, almost like he knew you needed to say something. You pointed to the surface, signing ‘we’ll take some air and I’ll lead you the rest of the way” Neteyam only shot you a confused look, you kept pointing for him to swim up.

He grabbed tuk, swimming to the surface.

He gasped for air again, his braids falling elegantly infront of his face before they were pushed away “what’s wrong” he asked, voice laced with worry.

“It’ll take us too long to get there if we continue swimming like this, I’ll take Tuk on my back and you can hold-“ you gently grabbed his hand, the softness of his palms escalated the beat of your heart.

“Here” he was quick to latch on to your shoulder, stammering in his response, his grip was secure. He couldn’t seem to look at you for long before gazing at the sky again.

Tuk wrapped her slender arms around your neck, diving once more into the open water.

You’ve always loved the sea, holding it dear to your heart. The water to you was like speaking to eywa, it was a connection. An entirely different aspect of the world around you and above you, when you swam you felt grounded, controlling your breathing was another form of connection to your people. It was the first thing many of you learnt as children, if you had control over your breathing, you could always find peace.

You swam further into the ocean, you were quick. Neteyam noted, very swift. It was almost as if you had been born from the water, you did it without effort, weaving through the floating seaweed and masses of rocks like that of a dolphin.

He couldn’t help but admire your skill.

Arriving at the rocks granted you space from the eldest brother, that entire time consisted of you holding back from slapping his hand away out of fear of what could be, you didn’t want to feed into your own delusions.

Your brother was right, your heart was weak.

“Just sit on those rocks over there” you muttered under your breath, wanting to escape the area. far from the visitors, “are you not staying?” neteyam asked, eyeing you with hope glimmering in his eyes. Or so you’d wished.

Tsireya perched in her spot, “she is staying,” she said, more so an order than a question.

Aonung shook his head, earning another laugh from rotxo who shot you a look of stupidity, reflecting his stupid self. You’ve known rotxo since you were children, he was always there. Always around, it was to the point you had even asked if aonung and rotxo were mates.

Rotxo fed into it, Aonung not so much.

“Renaia would rather swim with the fish and talk to the rocks” Rotxo joked, I lifted my hand out of the water and pointed it at him “Talking to you is like talking to a rock, only difference is the rocks smarter” Rotxo shot you a glare but that didn’t stop the others from laughing.

You lifted yourself from the water, flicking your hair back off of your shoulder. You had two thick braids circling your head, while the rest of your curls were left to silk down your back. A few loose strands hung from the crown of your head.

Neteyam was in awe, his mouth hanging as he tried to compose himself. Tuk giggled watching her elder brother panic under your presence, everyone noticed except you.

“Breathing is a life form, breathing gives you life and takes away that very same essence. You breathe from here,-“ she huffed in a breath, holding her chest with one arm “and here” moving the other to her stomach.

“In order to be one with the people you must learn how to control your breathing, it’s one of the most important parts of being metkayina. If you have control over your breathing, you have control over your life.” Rotxo finished.

All of them copied Rotxo and Tsireyas movements, Lo’ak whom was sitting by tsireya struggled to adjust to new knowledge. This made you curious as to how neteyam was adjusting, you could tell he was a quick learner but being the eldest he’d still carry past teachings with him, very dearly.

The rest were all too busy helping the others, glancing towards neteyam who sat cross legged on the rocks. Eyes closed, his eyebrow bone knotted together in frustration, you could immediately tell he didn’t know what he was doing.

You reached out to him, not uttering a single word as you placed your hand on his chest. His eyes shot open, wide and big in shock. His breathing rapidly escalated at the touch of your hand, you go to remove it but stop when his hand grasps your wrist.

“No it’s okay, I’m sorry for scaring you” Neteyam held a gentle look on his features, guiding your hand back to his chest “there’s only one way I’m gonna learn, go ahead” he consented, acknowledging you.

You pushed the emotion rising within you to the far back of your mind, you trained yourself how to not show emotion at a young age. This was a walk in the park.

Your smile faded, eyes rested, there was no sign of emotion in your face but the eyes speak for the soul and Neteyam was no fool.

“Breath in from here” you held his chest, tapping it with your middle finger, reaching your other hand over and placing it on his stomach “then you breathe out from here”

You breathed out from your own stomach, showing him how to do it. He mimicked you, not once breaking your gaze. His stare was strong, powerful. He was very relentless but you could see he didn’t mean evil.

I felt pulled to him, feeling no need to break the tension, I found myself wanting to drown in it. In his warm forest eyes, his gentle smile. But you barely knew the boy and you’d be damned if you’d gotten caught showing attraction for someone you’d just met a few hours ago.

After multiple attempts, you finally broke his gaze. Coughing slightly from the lack of air you took, although you were used to holding your breath, this somehow felt different.

“Good” you hummed, removing your skin from his. Then turning around to watch as Lo’ak fell prey to his feelings, he seemed to be the rebellious one. The way he held himself was awfully similar to the free spirited tulkun.

“Your heart rate is fast.” Tsireya teased, Lo’ak quickly glanced her way before lowering his gaze again “yeah sorry”

It seems like these boys apologise a lot.

After hours of teaching them how to breathe it was time to return, you had disappeared before the group could notice. It was a nightly ritual for you to go sit on that same branch and fall in love with the stars all over again.

You could see them from where you hid, choosing the spot just before the large bush of leaves to keep yourself hidden. Not even your own family knew of this place, thinking that you’d been out swimming every night since Manisa's death.

You had healed from that, as you looked upon the islands. Watching the water cascade with the tides, when they pulled back you’d imagine the hurt you’ve endured being pulled with it. Washing away your fears, your pung (hurt).

It was always beautiful sitting on top of the tree, weaving through the vines and gaining your balance rather easily now, you’ve endured so much but spoke so little of it. It was your responsibility to help, it was your job to uphold the honour of the olo’eyktan, everyday was a chore for you when all you wanted to do was be free spirited, one with eywa.

You could feel her presence in everything, you could hear her voice in the trees as they swayed. Eywa was always there, around you, above you and infront of you.

With your eyes closed, ears perked. You began listening to her, her heartbeat was mighty. Breathing in and out to the rhythm of the beat, it was a gift being so close to her, to the all mighty power of eywa. Your chest felt full, like her solace had been placed into your heart.

You’d rather be anything but who you were, Eywa has taught you that it’s not you who is deceitful it’s the people who convince you so.

The crunch of branches alerted you, you sat up quickly. Searching around for the intruder. You had a knife strapped to your thigh. It came in use during hunting, but this time it wasn’t going to be used for such a thing, before you could register the voice being used. You shot around, grabbing the intruder by their chest, pushing them into the tree swiftly with a knife against their throat.

“I didn’t mean to scare you” Neteyam choked, your breathing harsh against his as you dropped the knife onto the forest floor. Watching it drop further and further, “what are you doing up here?” You asked, more annoyed than shocked.

“My father told me and my idiot little brother that we can go exploring, I wanted to feel more at home so I came here” he truthfully spoke, “you could have died if I didn’t realise it was you”

Neteyams brow lifted in question “I don’t doubt your skill but I’m sure I would have been fine” he laughed. Of course, he was the son of olo’eyktan too, by the looks of it he’d already been trained in the ways.

You granted him no reply, sitting back down on the branch, remaining what you came here to do. The boy had no clue as to what that was, so he sat next to you, thigh touching yours. His shade creates a dark contrasting blue against your emerald skin. He was much taller than you, broader too. His shoulder rested by your head as you looked up at him for a slight second, then returned to your sullen features.

“Why do you come here, all alone?” Neteyam pointed out, so curious as to why you're always alone. Somehow this piqued his interest, your solitudious personality didn’t go unnoticed. He noted your disinterest in partaking in the activities with them but only when tuk was around did you finally enjoy being there.

You grumbled in response “because”

Neteyam shifted his gaze from your touching skin, to your blue eyes. He noticed how they had gold specs in them and a freckle, if he looked close enough it seemed as though the freckle was a second pupil.

The answer didn’t suffice “because?” He dragged on.

“I have my own reasons like you have yours, why do you put them before yourself? I see the way you step in when it comes to Lo’ak, the way tuk is like your child. Kiri is the same age as you, is she not? Yet you treat her too as if she’s a baby.” You rambled, feeling called out. You enjoyed your privacy, for once. You’d thought about sharing it with someone else, but for now you had to make it clear you were not easy and never will be.

Neteyam scoffed lightly, nodding his head as if you’d just analysed his entire life and been correct “it’s my responsibility”

You nodded in understanding, nudging him a bit to continue. Neteyam glanced your way, searching for safety in your eyes, he didn’t understand why he’d find it so important to do so but something in his heart told him too, and he always listened to his heart.

“Being the first born always means you sacrifice everything about yourself for them. They mess up? It’s on me for not teaching them to do better, they fall and hurt themselves. I should have been there to protect them, in some way they are my children but I’d never admit that to them. That’s just the burden of being born first, that’s how I’ve been raised”

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, he was wise beyond his years. Being the first born meant so many things and one of them that held importance was responsibility, although in that sense Aonung would fail miserably.

After a few moments of silence, Neteyam mirrored your actions of enjoying the eclipse.

“You're a good brother” you released, your voice weak.

The forest boy snapped his head in your direction, you continued “Aonung would rather die than have to bare the burden of me or tsireya, he comes off protective but at the end of the day it’s me protecting him from his own stupidity.” You reached for his shoulder, anywhere else was off limits to you. Reassuringly patting it.

“That's an admirable trait, you’d make a great olo’eyktan one day.”

Neteyam couldn’t help but to take in the moment, staring into your eyes with a glimpse of confusion flickering in them as he searched around for the answer in yours. You couldn’t bear meeting his gaze, before he could open his mouth and utter the words he wanted to.

A voice from below called out to you both “Neteyam, mothers looking for you” Tuks high pitched voice called from below, how she found you two was a mystery. She noticed your presence, getting giddy already. You had nearly forgotten to ask her the question you’d promised rini.

“I guess being the oldest has its perks, you get your own watch team” humour was never really your forte and even you didn’t find the joke in that but Neteyam sniffled a laugh.

“Yeah, one step and tuk is threatening me that if I don’t take her she’ll tell everyone everything about me” this made you laugh, children were stubborn but tuk had a new level of stubbornness. Almost like she’d go to war for an adventure.

Before we could start climbing down, Neteyam grabbed a hold of my wrist again. A pleading look on his features “do you think I could come back with you tomorrow, same place, same time” he asked politely so as to not alarm me, his hold was soft and gentle. Like he was almost afraid he’d break my wrist if he held it with security.

I looked down towards tuk who held her thumbs up in a yes motion “your free to do whatever you want, Neteyam”

He couldn’t help but feel the pull dominate one side of his lips into a grin “so that’s a yes?”

“Yes, it is”

.......................

I tried proofreading but i'm lowkey blind so sorry for the little fuck ups guys.

[imagitory]

All right...for those of you who don't know my thoughts about Wish, yes, I wasn't happy with the finished result, but no, I'm not a hater. I'm mostly just disappointed that this project that had so many good ideas came out so half-baked, and THIS is a perfect example of what I mean.

No, it's not because "Star Boy" appears in it -- at least, not by itself. I do actually like Star's "himbo" personality in this, even if I also completely understand liking the idea of a mute version of the character. (The downside is that the mute Star from the finished film honestly doesn't have much personality outside of just being cute, in contrast to other mute magical Disney characters like Tinker Bell.)

No, the lost potential here is two-fold --

Firstly, I once again felt more emotion watching this storyboarded sequence than I did at any point in the finished film. I smiled hearing the fun banter between Star and Asha, insinuating that they're becoming closer despite their contrasting personalities; I felt some suspense in how Star and Asha were going to get away from evil!Queen Amaya; I even laughed pretty hard at the cat-and-yarn gag! I didn't laugh once while watching the finished movie.

Secondly -- and this point is actually the one I want to focus on more -- is the commentary given about why this scene was cut. I truly think another unspoken reason behind the decision was that this sequence was clearly inspired by the transforming chase scene in Nimona, which Disney of course infamously dropped when they closed Blue Sky Studios and later got picked up by Netflix, only to receive glowing reviews from just about everyone...but one of the core reasons that Head of Story Mark Kennedy cites for why they changed this scene (aside from wanting Star to be mute and not a shapeshifter like other Disney characters, which I'm a bit confused about because yeah, Disney's done cute, mute non-human characters before too -- what about Dopey, Pascal, Maximus, Dumbo, Bambi, Magic Carpet, Sven, and again Tinker Bell?) is that they wanted Asha to be the hero and be able to "solve all her problems" without Star's help.

Up to a point, I understand what Kennedy means -- the theme of the film is supposed to be that we all have the power inside of us to make a difference, and that's great. But by making it so that Asha doesn't need any help from Star, it takes something away from their relationship. No human is an island, and relationships, both in stories and real life, are often built on that fact. Just look at Ariel and Eric in the original Little Mermaid -- Ariel saves Eric from drowning and from Ursula zapping him with Triton's trident, and then Eric saves Ariel from Ursula by skewering her with the broken figurehead of a ship. Even in non-romantic examples, we have Judy and Nick having to help each other solve the case in Zootopia; Buzz and Woody helping each other get back to Andy in Toy Story; the Parr family and Frozone all fighting together against Syndrome's robot with their unique powers in The Incredibles; Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver working together to save themselves and everyone else at the end of Treasure Planet; even Anna helping Elsa learn how to control her magical abilities through an act of authentic, courageous, selfless love that only she can do in Frozen. These characters needing help and deep emotional connections with others is what creates a bond between them, helps the characters grow and change into stronger people, and makes us as an audience enjoy watching the two characters together. We become invested in both the two individual characters and the relationship forged between them. Because they all have their unique strengths and weaknesses, they supplement and complete each other. Even perfect paragon Superman in most DC properties isn't an island -- when he's in the Justice League, there are plenty of times where he needs help from Batman or other team members to save the day. Even Superman is a stronger character when he has people around him who can balance out his flaws.

If Asha never needs help, that runs the risk of the challenges she's facing seeming far less consequential, because no human can handle absolutely everything, all by themselves. Yes, perhaps in the finished film, Asha asks her friends to help her liberate the wishes (a task which ultimately fails, leaving Asha to confront Magnifico alone again and realize exactly what everyone has to do to defeat him on her own anyway)...but just in regards to Star and Asha's relationship -- which even the filmmakers have said is something like a "soulmate" relationship, though not in a romantic sense in the finished product -- these two can't have a meaningful connection if one of them is completely self-sufficient. This is also why quite a few Disney fans didn't like that the Little Mermaid remake changed Ursula's defeat to have it be Ariel who killed her, rather than Eric, because it hurt the "equal" dynamic between the main couple where they both helped and supported each other.

In short, "girl power" shouldn't have to mean never needing to rely on anyone else...and honestly, looking at this scene concept, we don't see Asha relying on Star too much! She's the brains of the outfit -- she's making plans; she's providing Star some much needed common sense; she's using Star's light as a distraction so they can get away...she even escapes Amaya at one point by sliding right under her horse! Asha in this storyboard is a bad-ass!

What we see in this sequence is these two characters having to help each other in order to succeed. And that would've been a great foundation on which to build more dramatic stakes and a relationship with actual pathos, whether romantic or not.

[tciddaemina]

svsss fic recs because 👌👌

general all round good fics

High Mountain, How I Long by Minimalistless

[M, Bingqiu, canon divergence, 14K, complete]

Shen Qingqiu, after enduring his trial, is placed into Luo Binghe’s custody at Huan Hua Palace.

in the region of the heart by XueYangsLawyer

[E, Bingqiu, canon divergence, 15K, complete]

Luo Binghe comes home to Qing Jing Peak early, and Shen Qingqiu discovers the benefits of honesty.

dreams that had never come true by Tossawary

[T, Moshang, time travel, 13K, complete]

Mobei-Jun’s search for Shang Qinghua had taken him to many strange places. He had quickly exhausted all more familiar locations. He had come to this last strange place not because Shang Qinghua was a strange man who knew many strange things (though he was), but because… because… it was becoming evident that if he did not seek out strange methods, he would never find Shang Qinghua if he did not wish to be found.

It was becoming evident that Shang Qinghua did not wish to be found.

In which Mobei-Jun becomes an accidental time-traveler and gets a second shot at his life with Shang Qinghua.

How To Stop Being Strung Along By A Guy & Get What You Deserve: 5 Steps to a Serious Relationship! by x_los

[G, Bingqiu, soulmates, 5K, complete]

Shen Yuan transmigrates into Proud Immortal Demon Way with a firmly-tied red string of fate. It takes Luo Binghe roughly two hours to notice this.

Living With A Tiger by x_los

[E, OG Binghe/Shen Yuan, 17K, complete]

Shen Yuan has been engaged to Emperor Luo Binghe from almost the hour of his birth. He grows up knowing his place in the world exactly; he is far less certain of his place in his betrothed's guarded affections.

True Treasure by MissMegh

[M, OG Shen Qingqiu/Tianlang-Jun, canon divergence 38K, complete]

Shen Jiu has everything he asked for and nothing that he wants. Then he meets a handsome stranger in a brothel, and suddenly there's something he wants very much.

Or, what happens when the villain of Qing Jing Peak falls in love with the emperor of the demon realm.

liujiu disciple era marriage by pennydaniels

[E, OG Shen Qingqiu/Liu Qingge, series, 81K, complete]

Shen Jiu is drowning on Qing Jing Peak in his struggle to become Head Disciple and then hopefully Peak Lord. He's always been good at surviving but somehow can't help wanting more than that. He just wants to make the right decision.

(In which Shen Jiu is just trying to keep his head above water dealing with his faulty cultivation and capricious Shizun, has more than a few illuminating conversations with the brothel ladies, gets caught in a sex pollen disaster with Liu Qingge, and watches the other try their best to make it right.)

tasty tasty aus

We Are Not Wise by Boomchick, Suzoomie

[M, Bingqiu, soul sword au, 52K, complete]

When Shen Qingqiu drew Shen Yuan’s soul sword, it felt like being burned from the inside out. The fire wasn’t cruel, but it was still fire—hot and destructive, searing the softest pieces of him.

When Binghe’s fingers touch the hilt, he is ready for pain.

Transmigrated into a version of Proud Immortal Demon Way where cultivators manifest their own souls into spiritual weapons, Shen Yuan finds himself sort of kind of…accidentally blackmailing Shen Qingqiu into taking him on as a disciple before Luo Binghe joins the sect.

Love Like You by Boomchick

[T, Bingqiu, crystal gem au, 19K, complete]

Luo Binghe grows up in the shadow of his father, the red beryl Tianlang-jun. He loves his mother, and he loves his gem family, but there's something missing from his life.

Enter the enigmatic, elegant, beautiful Shen Qingqiu--a pearl who quickly cements himself in Luo Binghe's heart.

Unfortunately, their quiet days spent side-by-side on planet earth are quickly drawing to a close. When the appearance of Blue Diamond and his human pet changes everything, can Luo Binghe find a way back to Shen Qingqiu?

Sit With Your Soul by Tossawary

[T, Gen, daemon au, 61K, complete]

The original Shen Qingqiu suffers a severe deviation that unsettles his daemon, transforming them into a childish and inconstant creature, too curious and without any memories of the life that has made him so bitter. His soul is now unrecognizable to him and everyone can see his humiliation.

Shen Yuan isn't exactly happy to have transmigrated into Proud Immortal Demon Way at all, much less as this doomed scum villain's daemon.

Plastromancy by x_los

[T, Bingqiu, coraline-ish au, 16K, complete]

One night, Luo Binghe notices something odd about the way his blood is pooling on the floor of the woodshed."

A twelve year old Luo Binghe meets his Other Shizun.

AQ by x_los

[E, Bingqiu, star trek au, 15K, complete]

Before he rose to captaincy, Shen Yuan attended a briefing given to all command level officers in Star Fleet that outlined the scope of the Q threat. According to Admiral Picard's report, the omnipotent Q are devious, amoral, unreliable, irresponsible and definitely not to be trusted.

Orphaned stowaway Luo Binghe doesn't even know he is one.

AN IDIOT'S GUIDE TO A HAPPY MARRIAGE by tagteamme

[E, Moshang, modern au, 156K, complete]

“Marriage?” His voice breaks over the word like it’s a curse. “Really? Doesn’t it feel a bit irrational?”

“Are you planning to pay off an eight-figure debt with this job and a host job?” Mobei Jun asks, and Shang Qinghua almost wants to throttle him. Though, if his wallet didn’t have a direct funnel to his dad’s bank account, Shang Qinghua might actually have been a little comfortable.

“That’s not what I meant!” Shang Qinghua huffs, his head still spinning. As far as being a married man goes, Shang Qinghua is nowhere near ready.

“What?” Mobei Jun raises a single eyebrow. “Were you looking to marry for love?”

horny on main

Dual Cultivation by acernor

[E, Liu/bing/qiu, series, 98K, complete]

"Shizun said I made you feel so good,” Luo Binghe says, “that I could fuck you any time I wanted.”

Liu Qingge stops breathing for a second.

“What,” he blurts out.

Shen Qingqiu could tell he’d been into it?!

He Was Made for Untidy Rooms and Rumpled Beds by Bluethursday

[E, Bingqiu, 62K, complete]

Shen Qingqiu kind of, sort of, does not have the same modesty standards as a xianxia novel set in some form of Ancient China? He also hates the heat, who knew right?

What Dreams May Come by The Feels Whale

[E, Bingqiu, 45K, complete]

In the time between sacrificing himself to stop his estranged disciple’s qi deviation and waking up in his back-up body, Shen Yuan -formerly Shen Qingqiu- experiences a long series of dreams that make him confront quite a few things about himself that he’d been stubbornly ignoring.

Good thing they’re just dreams, right? Otherwise he’d never be able to look Luo Binghe in the eye ever again.

He Dreams of White Lotuses in Spring by bloodsongs

[E, Bingqiu, cw: teacher/disciple rp, 19K, complete]

“Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious…” He traces his knuckles against one of Shen Qingqiu’s warm ears and down the line of his jaw. “...about all the different ways this disciple has wanted Shizun?”

“I just,” Shen Qingqiu stammers, face heating at Luo Binghe’s touch and the intensity of the desire in those eyes contained within the innocence of his younger self’s face. “Why is this—why are you in this form?”

Without A Clue by x_los

[E, Bingqiu, 15K, complete]

Immediately before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe learns (via the magic of library science) that he alone can cure Shen Qingqiu's debilitating condition. When Binghe properly understands what that remedy will actually entail, he is even keener to be of use to his shizun.

death and a loverboy by Irrelevancy

[E, Liu Qingge/Tianlang-Jun/Su Xiyan, series, 34K, complete]

“We’re not friends!”

-

TLJ saves LQG's life in an ambiguous fuck-or-die. No clothes come off because he promised.

[luckyshinyhunter]

Having trouble finding some films to watch, especially now that it's pride month?

Well have no fear, because I have some that is recommended, whether queer or queer-coded, these are movies you should watch.

Despite being forgotten or criticize being "woke", Strange World is a underrated gem that join the list of underrated and forgotten disney films such Lightyear, Treasure Planet and Atlantis.

It has an gay main character and a diverse cast including an 3-legged dog. Inspired by classic sci-fi adventure film in the 50's and 60's, Strange World is fun adventure film about an generation of a family dealing with their own faults, also opening a door of possibilities with it's lore.

Freaky is a fun twist on the classic "Freaky Friday" trope, telling the story of a teenager who swap bodies with a serial killer, thanks to a mystical artifact.

Co-written and directed by the guy who also made Happy Death Day, Freaky delivers some gore-filled kills and feel good laughs while offering some parts of queer identity along with a gay character who proud of who he is.

The Fear Street trilogy itself not only joined the list of amazing horror films in 2021 but also an spot of queer horror.

It follows an romance of two lesbian teens in the 90's not only dealing with homophobia but also a ancient connected curse of the town of Shadyside.

Chalked with nostalgia of classic horror films like Scream, Friday the 13th and The Crucible.

Fear Street wins fans over with it's violent kills, remarkable characters, talented performances, and great and relatable queer representation.

Jennifer's Body introduced an another horror icon and bisexuality.

Megan Fox plays Jennifer Check who was possessed by a demon and targets on guys after being sacrificed by an fame-hungry band.

Tho Jennifer is not a lesbian, but the films does show that she is interested in both boys and girls, claiming she goes both ways and has some interest in her friend Needy, even kissing her too.

The cult classic not only has an amazing bisexual icon but tackles heavy themes such as assault, exploitation and the female gaze.

Bottoms is a must watch masterpiece, chaotic, brutal and gut-bursting funny, the film follows two high school friends that made a fight club to just hook up with two popular cheerleaders.

With an ridiculously unhinged final act, meet cute romance, and jokes that have you laughing your butt off. This 2000's coded movie is a a treat to start off the month.

After rewatching it again, Arlo has queer heavy themes if you think about it. Looking back, one of the film's characters, has some queer-coded hints about him.

I'm not going to spoil on the titular character, I think you should watch the film in order to get what I'm saying.

Other than that the film has an amazing soundtrack and has colorful characters as well.

Luca definitely is a queer film without a doubt. Focusing on two young sea monsters, spending an unforgettable summer in the town of Portorosso on the Italian Riviera.

It's themes of self discovery, chosen families, homophobia and acceptance.

This emotionally sweet sea-filled tale is a instant classic with a pretty much Canon couple too.

Robot Dreams also has hints of queer companionship and also is a story of loneliness, the film's out now, you definitely think you should see it.

Based off the comic in 2007, Robot Dreams is set in the 80's of New York City.

A lonely dog assemble and befriends a robot in a dialogue-less journey of friendship, love and rusted parts.

There's no surprises are a lot of clear queer-tonic themes in the films, especially among the two main characters, Robot Dreams is a perfect way to spend your summer.

Last year, Nimona was not only one final goodbye from Blue sky studios but is a part of the best films of 2023.

No surprise that the creator of the graphic novel also did Netflix's She-ra, the film is heavy on not only disability but also gender identity and transphobia.

it's a film that everyone will enjoy, thanks to it's commentary and electrifying performances by the cast, combine with pretty metal animation, Nimona is the film you should definitely watch.

🏳️‍🌈Happy pride month, hope all of you have a great day, and let me know on what think of these films.🏳️‍🌈

[useless19]

You my dear have made the mistake of reigniting my love for megatron x knockout so now you must suffer my mad ravings. I'm sorry in advance. Megaknock is a FASCINATING ship because they are so alike and so different that its downright poetic in a way i know the writers didn't intend. They are both cunning and dangerous, both ruled by pride and explosive emotions. Both dramatic and boisterous. Neither are particularly patient and both relish in the pain of others.

However megatron enjoys a challenge, he's disciplined and unconcerned with his image as long as he can strike fear in his enemies, hes hardly afraid of getting dirty if it means getting his way. As for Knockout well in his own words games are only fun if your winning. he's indulgent and famously vain taking immeasurable pride in his appearance to the point where he will kill over getting his paint scratched. Megatron is composed and stern, with his harsh edges, towering size and unnatched strength he commands respect strength and radiates danger, an apex predator.

Meanwhile knockout is flamboyant and downright playful. With his small frame, his curved edges, his shiny paint he hides in plain sight making others think he's just a pretty preening thing, making them forget about the buzzsaws and knowledge from his profession that ensures he knows where the soft spots are. A scavenger through and through.

They would be a nightmare for absolutely everyone else as a couple, feeding off of and into eachothers worst nature. You just know knockout would revel in being a pampered trophy wife. As long as he gets to keep enjoying his hobbies he's perfectly happy to play the role of pretty accessory hanging off his masters arm or lounging in his lap and making him look all the more fearsome by comparison. Megatron would enjoy it just as much. Not only does he get to have a treasure the nobles of old would covet shamelessly fawn over him he also gets the entertainment of them not realizing the danger right in front of them. Atleast until they wind up on the dissection table. What can he say, megatron can't resist the sight of knockout in his element with his true predatory nature on full display, besides the colors of death suit him well. He always did find blue and red a lovely combination.

Pulling people back into rarepair hell is never a mistake ;)

One of the key things for me about their dynamic is that Knock Out is possibly the only person who is happy being a Decepticon while also genuinely seeming to like Megatron (for the most part). Watch the look on Knock Out's face in Stronger, Faster when Megatron injures Ratchet and presents his leaking frame to Knock Out with a "There's your laboratory sample, doctor." or the way Megatron accepts the Predacon talon at the end of Plus One.

They enjoy each other's competence and cruelty and their goals are often aligned, meaning that, while methods and success rates may vary, they generally aren't costing each other their key values/at key moments (compare to the worst of their conflicts with Starscream).

I think it helps that Megatron is usually smart about dealing with Knock Out on a (somewhat) professional level. Take the times Knock Out presents himself as mission-ready in Tunnel Vision and Hard Knocks, Megatron questions his capabilities both times. Knock Out doesn't appreciate the questioning, but Megatron's concern is assuaged by giving Knock Out an Insecticon guard and Knock Out borrowing equipment respectively, there's almost an edge of care to it. Later on, "Haven't I proven myself?" is followed up with "I need your scientific skills." which both soothes the unintended insult and shows how much Megatron appreciates Knock Out's non-combat skills - ie, the whole package.

Knock Out doesn't have some big grand plan, he's going with whatever flow works best for him. Whereas, Megatron does have a vision of the future (defeat the Autobots and rule the planet) and it's one that Knock Out fits in perfectly well. There isn't a need for Knock Out to question the status quo because it serves him just fine.

Megatron and Knock Out are also fascinating to me for being the two highest charisma characters in the show, just focused at opposite ends of the spectrum.

As much as I love the many ways in which they can make each other worse, I also really like how they have the potential to fit together and give each other the space to be needlessly sadistic while also being able to get comfort (even if it is wrapped in layers of denial). Megatron praises people when they succeed (competence kink, anyone?), while Knock Out, despite being designed sexy, never gets anyone commenting on how pretty he is, not even in a derogatory way. It's so close to Megatron dropping a half-compliment on Knock Out's looks and Knock Out taking it entirely too seriously.

And size difference. Can't forget the size difference!

[camila-narade]

"Together across the galaxy"

a/n: This is my first time writing something like this, English is not my first language (I used translator to write this) and maybe I wrote Jim a little Oc.

Relationship: Jim Hawkins x Reader

Warning: None, just two teenagers in love (It doesn't have a real kissing scene because I don't know how to write something like that).

✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧

✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧

It was already quite late, the inn was quiet and the customers had left hours ago...everything was quiet except for Jim's room.

The room had the light off and the only lighting there was was the one emitted by the book. I watched carefully as the images moved on the pages of the book, It wasn't the first time I read it but it always felt like it was the first time.

Jim was also looking at the book although he wasn't as focused as I was, he seemed to be somewhat lost in his own thoughts. I snuggled closer to him because of the little space there was in the bed.

After a few seconds I took my attention away from the book and looked at Jim.

—What would you do if the treasure planet existed...?— I will ask him with some curiosity.

Jim came out of his thoughts when he heard me speak to him but it took him a few seconds to respond. A slight, somewhat cocky and perhaps even determined smile formed on his face.

— If the treasure planet existed, I would definitely do everything possible to find it...— He answered me as he passed his hand behind my back and grabbed my shoulder to bring me closer to him.

I smiled slightly at the gesture and also at his response, he would definitely do that, I could basically imagine him getting on a ship completely excited for the adventure.

Another question began to develop in my mind and I spoke again.

—And if that were the case... would we go together? — I asked him with a slight smile. even though I didn't really like adventures and preferred to stay safe in my comfort zone...I would have no problem traveling to every place in the galaxy if it was with him.

He laughed a little at my question but nodded as he looked at me now with his bright blue eyes and sweeter smile. — Yes, we would definitely go together...— He answered me determinedly while giving me a soft kiss on the cheek.

The tender gesture made me blush a little as a warm feeling appeared in my chest, one I normally felt when we were together.

— It's... it's good to know — I said without knowing how to respond, internally cursing for my pathetic response, knowing that he would probably make fun of my blushing a little or something.

But this time he didn't say anything and just moved closer to me. Now he was the one focused on the book and I was focused on my own thoughts.

I felt a premonition that something would happen along with a feeling of uncertainty washing over me. I shivered slightly at that and shook my head to get the feeling out of my body and I refocused my attention on the book in my hands.

"The great merchant ships, with their cargoes of Arcturian solar crystals..."

I focused on the narrative that the book was emitting and leaned on Jim's shoulder, beginning to forget that feeling.

I stayed silent as I looked at the pages of the book, leaning against Jim, relaxing into his body heat, along with the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. I could hear how it was starting to rain little by little outside...While I was starting to feel more and more sleepy.

He began to notice this and gently took the book from my hands, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed, then he grabbed the blankets and covered us both. I snuggled against him while I let out a small yawn, I felt him hug me gently and then kiss me on the forehead.

— Good night, Y/N...sleep well. —He whispered to me while he also yawned.

Within a few seconds we both fell asleep in each other's arms, not knowing the great adventure that was waiting for us...

✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧*✧⁰•⁰✧

🌷— Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, as I said English is not my first language... maybe I posted this on Ao3 and Wattpad in English and Spanish too

I will probably write more things about Treasure Planet, especially about Jim Hawkins, but they will probably be somewhat silly things jsjs

And that's all✨... thanks for reading ♡

(I had a hard time writing from an Alcatel cell phone that I've had since around 2021, I'm surprised it hasn't exploded in my hand yet jdjs...)

[throughthewaves-if]

Care to share some facts about the ROs?

S- 

Similar to MC, they’re new money, and live with their mother. They’ve never been in a tight knit community before, as they spent most of their early days moving from apartment to apartment, so they’re pretty serious about creating a community on Blue Mist. You’ll see throughout the game how they encourage the residents of the neighborhood to be supportive and communicate with each other, and they also host most of the community events.

They grow a bit of an attachment to MC right away, due to not having many friends their age growing up since they moved around a lot. It’s purely platonic unless MC pursues them romantically. They’re not toxic about it, and they can respect boundaries, they’re just a little cringey, lol. 

Despite moving to a beach, they’re actually terrified of the ocean (got convinced to watch Jaws by a couple of their peers when they were younger, and they’ve been traumatized since). In their defense, though, moving to the beach wasn’t their choice, it was purely their mother’s. 

I-

Before Blue Mist became habitable, I used to sneak away from Azulin City (mermaid kingdom) and swim to various beaches around the world to pick up knickknacks and various human treasures. They don’t have Ariel’s cave, so their house is covered in human memorabilia. 

They’re a little shunned by the other mermaids because of their obsession with humans, but they’ve made great friends with A despite this. A doesn’t care much for humanity’s treasures or their favorite activities, but A does find their culture to be very interesting. Whenever I needs to rant about something new they found about humans, they run to A, and A always listens with a polite smile even if they don’t really care. 

Their favorite place to run off to for some peace and quiet would be sunken ships located all around the outside of the kingdom. Not only do they find some cool human souvenirs, but most mermaids avoid sunken ships like the plague, in case any humans might still be alive. It’s perfect for when they need a breath of fresh air? water? Whatever sea creatures breathe. 

M-

Despite making their hatred for humanity known, they actually do express great interest in humanity’s arcane knowledge. Who knew you can use other parts of Earth’s features like land and rocks to create potions and spells? 

Despite seeming irrational, their disdain for humanity goes deeper than just “they’re dangerous to the ocean cause they treat the planet like a trash can”. Believe it or not, they once were the I of Azulin City. 

While they don’t like humans and will defend Azulin City from them till their last breath, they don’t really like the Azulin government. They see a future with A as king/queen, but right now, they prefer to keep away from the castle. 

A- 

A has had many suitors come to them and has been introduced to many suitors by their parents, but they’ve denied every single one of them, telling their parents that they just aren’t ready for a relationship yet. This is a lie. In actuality, A just can’t stand the prissy nobles of Azulin City.

They have a pet hammerhead shark named Moon, who they dote on all the time. They love all sharks but favor hammerheads because they think they look funny.

They are terrified of fishermen and boats because they once got caught in a fishermen’s net when they were young. They don’t hold it against all humans. Just fishermen. Sorry to MC’s who like to fish. ✊😔

[clovrtree]

Peter had never felt more angry at a wizard before in his life until this moment. Certainly a strange thing to think about as he walked tiredly through dark and dreary streets, but nonetheless, it was how he felt.

Doctor Strange- “Call me Stephen.”- had sent Peter Parker to an entirely new universe. At least, that’s what he believed had happened. There wasn’t necessarily an exact answer as to how he ended up here, only a who that was responsible for it. And right now Peter was very angry at that who.

Memories of Titan were shoved to the forefront of his mind, a planet scorched by the sun and catastrophically destroyed by war. It’s destruction was a product of the very war that Peter had been fighting before he-

His footsteps faltered as he remembered his death.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good–” Peter said with a shake in his breath as a sudden fuzziness started crawling up his limbs. His spider-sense was going haywire, overwhelming his senses and leaving the boy a stuttering mess. “I-I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening–” he said frantically as he stumbled to his mentor.

Tony Stark swallowed hard. His face displayed anguish that Peter didn’t want to see. “...you’re alright.” He said all too steadily, like a father comforting a child. When Peter got close enough, he clung to the man, feeling his feet get swept from underneath him in the wind. Tears pricked at the teen’s eyes, grip tight on Tony’s jacket.

“I-I don’t wanna go-” he said through tears, nose becoming congested from the surge of raw fear running through him. His spine tingled, and over Tony’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his own fingers turning into ash. “I don’t wanna go-” he repeated in a plea. “Please, sir, I don’t wanna go-”

Tony kneeled down, setting Peter on the ground. His hands never left the teen, and the teen never let him go. Peter swallowed roughly, forcing tears back as he looked up at Titan’s yellow sky. It wasn’t the blue one that he so desperately needed to see, the familiar sky of Earth.

He was far from Earth now, and he would never be going back.

Peter turned his gaze back to Tony, looking the man in the eyes and forcing his mouth to work once more. He needed to say something to Tony, tell him anything- he couldn’t let himself die like this in Tony’s arms.

“I’m sorry.”

Not without an apology delivered on the brink of death.

Everything after that was white hot, and he couldn’t recall a single second of his time after turning into ash. All he knew was that he watched Tony become a blur, and then a second later, he was gasping for air and clawing his way onto a rocky New England shore.

The puddle below his heavy foot splashed and soaked the ends of the ratty jeans he had fished out of a dumpster upon arrival. They were far too big for him and sat loose on his hips, but he preferred them instead of walking around in his Iron Spider suit, which still clung to his damp skin underneath his makeshift clothes.

He felt miserable, and if he was soaking wet for much longer, then he would surely be sick. Of course that wouldn’t be a big deal, considering his healing factor. It was still uncomfortable as hell, and he especially didn’t want to be sick in a strange city like this one.

The Gotham Gazette drew his attention, the soaking wet newspaper discarded on the ground up ahead. He hesitantly reached down, picking it up and holding back a wince at the feeling of the damp paper.

Most of the smaller words in the articles were already soaked and smudged away in the rain, but the title and a few headings still boldly displayed themselves. Fourth Arkham Break-Out of the Year. Wayne Enterprises Donates 1.7 Billion to Homeless Shelters Benefiting Crime Alley. Red Hood Busts Human Trafficking Ring in the Harbor.

This city, supposedly called Gotham, sounded rough. The Asylum was experiencing break-outs like a prison, there were known human trafficking rings… at least Wayne Enterprises seemed to be doing something to help the homelessness rates of the city. That was something that Peter had noticed as soon as he made it to the main city from the harbor- the amount of homeless citizens was vastly concerning.

A bit more smudged reading told Peter that it was April third of 2016- a whole two years before Thanos. Before Peter would die. The mere thought of his death once more sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spine, and he was now hyper aware of how dreadful this situation was.

Even worse, he was in New Jersey. Peter had never heard of Gotham, New Jersey, which felt extremely odd. A city with this much crime would surely gather the attention of the Avengers, or some other hero who could help.

Maybe that’s who Red Hood is, Peter thought, dropping the newspaper into a nearby trashcan and continuing his aimless walk. Part of him hoped so, since the person seemed to be doing good work for the city.

The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted Peter’s nose as he passed an alleyway, and he scrunched his face in discomfort. A quick glance that direction showed a group of men wearing stained and torn clothing sitting around a dying out trash fire. His heart gave a pained beat in his chest. Even a second around that small fire would likely warm his senses enough to find a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Unfortunately for Peter’s senses, his mind was much more rational. These men didn’t know him, and they were much older than him. They likely weren’t keen on sharing, and since they were smoking, Peter didn’t want to sit near that smell for so long.

So he continued.

The teen wasn’t sure exactly how long that he walked, but the moon had shifted quite a lot from its initial position earlier in the night. He caught a glimpse of it through the dreary clouds every so often, rain pelting his face.

“Karen, what kind of info can you pick up?” he mumbled under his breath, and in response, he felt nanobots brushing around his ear until they had made a small bud for him to listen to.

“Hi, Peter. Currently I’m unable to grab any information from the internet, as none of my sources seem to have updated to our current geological location.”

Peter frowned at her response, sticking his hands into the pockets of the stained gray zip-up hoodie he had grabbed when he got the jeans. “That doesn’t make any sense, what’s your database looking like?”

“Looks like it usually does, Peter. However, nothing from my internal storages is aligning with any metadata that I’m receiving from this environment.”

“So.. nothing on Gotham, New Jersey?”

“No, sorry, Peter.”

Peter huffed through his nose, hearing the A.I. go silent in his ear. To anyone who looked close enough, it just seemed like he had one generic-brand earbud. Upon closer inspection, though, anyone could see the small trail of metal going down into his hoodie.

“Run a diagnostic, see what all is online. I’ll try to find you something with internet to connect to.”

The lack of response told the teen that she had started on the diagnostics, so he grew quiet too. He would rather people not think he’s insane for mumbling to himself under his breath.

Eventually, Peter looked up from the sidewalk and paused, a wave of discomfort washing over him. To his right was Gotham Public Library. All of the lights were off inside, but the outdoor ones illuminated a large clock-face reading 3:47.

To his left, a cemetery with tall black metal fences was emitting an eerie fog across the entire half of the street. It went down for at least another block. Just looking at the place of rest made a tingle rush up his spine and to his neck, buzzing there.

Breaking and entering was definitely a crime. Always had been, always would be, even in this city that isn't supposed to exist. Still, Peter was cold and tired, and he just needed to close his eyes for a little bit. If he would be breaking into anywhere, it would be somewhere with the word “Public” plastered above the front door.

Like the Gotham Public Library, how perfect. He skipped up the steps two at a time, standing underneath the large stone awning for a second to enjoy the feeling of no rain! It was great, but now he needed a way inside.

On the front of the building, all of the doors and windows were locked tight, and Peter frowned. Of course a city with this much crime would be under lock and key. He would need a different entrance.

As quietly and inconspicuously as possible, Peter Parker rounded the building twice, looking at windows and potential entrances. Eventually, on his second lap, he spotted a slightly opened window through the heavy rain. Parker luck be damned, he was about to be somewhere warm.

Scaling the wall was effortless with his spider abilities, and fitting through the small window was easy as pie. The boots of his Iron Spider suit landed on a tiled floor of a women's restroom (he only knew that due to the lack of a urinal). A quick glance around the space told him that the lights were motion activated, so he bit the bullet and went to the door. The blinding overhead light activated and he winced, giving himself a small glance in the mirror as he passed.

He had to backtrack his steps, eyes widening when he really took stock of himself. His skin was sheened with sweat and rain, and little cuts and bruises littered his cheeks and forehead. Unzipping the gray hoodie showed the damaged Iron Spider suit, and he frowned at the large gash across his side. It had broken skin, but stopped bleeding a while ago. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected, because even with his healing factor, those were still uncomfortable.

The worst part of his appearance was his hair. The semi-curly brown locks seemed to have gotten.. Longer? Usually he kept his hair cut clean at his ears, but now strands were wisping along the back of his neck. Strangely enough, a large strand on his hairline, right by his temple, was a chalky white color. Reaching up and feeling it revealed nothing, because it felt fine.

This only opened even more questions for the teen, who sighed tiredly through his nose. He just wanted to lay down somewhere. He would assess his situation more in the morning, when the sun was up.

Right now, nothing would make sense due to his exhaustion and temperature. Any thoughts of Doctor Strange, Titan, or Thanos just made him uncomfortable and made no sense. So he dropped it- for now.

Exiting the bathroom quietly, he glanced around. Peter was on the second floor of three it seemed. Nearby, two elevator shafts stuck awkwardly out of the wall. Across the floor, a big staircase would take him either down or up. In the middle of the floor was a big hole that looked out into the bottom floor, and when Peter looked up, he was greeted by a large glass dome.

On a sunny day, this building would be beautiful. He could already imagine it bustling with life. Assuming there was a college nearby, he could see different students sitting at the various tables, couches, and beanbags doing work or reading books of all sorts. This building just felt good, and was such a stark contrast from both the cemetery across the street and the city itself.

A quick surveillance walk around the second floor revealed that there were cameras, but none were active. There were no more motion activated lights either, meaning that Peter was free to roam without drawing any attention from the outside.

“Alright, Karen, let’s hook you up to a computer.” Peter said softly, metal boots padding against the carpeted floor as he walked to a large set of computers across multiple desks. He slid into a chair and typed in the guest login information that was written on a sticky note attached to the monitor.

Using his right hand, he loaded up Google. With his left, he reached down to the actual computer itself, feeling around on the front of the box until he found a USB port. Seconds later, the nanobots on his hands shifted and changed until one finger of the suit was plugged into the computer.

“Diagnostics are complete, would you like to hear them?”

“Mhm.” Peter hummed, typing with one hand and searching up a few key words. Avengers, Tony Stark, Spiderman, Captain America, Iron Man, and Wakanda all resulted in nothing useful. His brows pinched together in concern. None of this stuff seemed to even exist.

“Overall status is 42%. Your web shooters are at a combined capacity of 68%. Your suit sustained severe damage to the primary left side, but there is considerable damage located all over. The suggested course of action is to make repairs as soon as conveniently possible before joining another fight.”

“Thanks, Karen.” he sighed, not happy about the information. It wasn’t all bad, he had much more web fluid than he had originally anticipated. The damage wouldn’t be easy to fix without either a lab, or Tony. Both would be wonderful right about now. “You connected to the internet yet?”

“Yes, are you ready to hear my findings?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Peter Parker was in Gotham, New Jersey. It was the crime capital of the entire world. Despite its high crime rates, it was being watched over by a group of vigilantes, led by one called Batman. The others, with various bat and bird themed names, all worked as a single unit to keep this single city safe. They rarely ever branched out.

The Avengers did not exist. The closest thing was another group of heroes known as the Justice League, which was formed by Batman and two others: Wonder Woman and Superman. They were a heavy mix of people with powers, called Metas, and people without powers, like Batman.

Thanos did not exist. There was never an attack from him or his forces. Instead, there were other contacts with different races and species of aliens from all across the universe. Some of them were members of the Justice League now.

Spiderman did not exist. It didn’t take much to hack into public records, and there was never a Peter Benjamin Parker born in Queens. No one was ever bitten by a radioactive spider, and no one ever became Spiderman.

“Peter?”

He could hear her voice in his ear, but nothing was registering. The pure lack of anything familiar made a dreadful discomfort climb up his back, and his vision got a bit fuzzy.

“Peter, I’m picking up an increased heart rate as well as sporadic brain activity. Would you like for me to alert someone for medical aid?”

“No..” he mumbled. “....people here can’t.. They can’t know I’m not from….” he trailed off, leaning back in his chair and staring at the blurry white computer monitor.

“That you’re from a different universe?”

“..yeah, that.”

Peter’s stay in the library concluded with him taking a short nap in a soft green beanbag, and the lights flickering to life at seven a.m. He shot up from his light sleep, stumbling quickly to his feet. A worker was here, likely to get ready to open for the day. He needed to leave.

His dart across the second floor was silent thanks to his spider enhancements and the Iron Spider suit, and he climbed out the bathroom window without looking back. Maybe next time, he could sleep longer and do less research on his problems.

Looking around, things started to make more sense. This was a different universe. Sure it looked enough like his own, but there were small differences. Logos for big brands were slightly altered, celebrities looked different and some didn’t even exist. Catchy songs had different melodies, lyrics, artists, or even genres here. Why did Taylor Swift write “Bring Me to Life”? Evanescence had perfected that song!

Things slowly started to click into place as the sun rose over Gotham’s Atlantic horizon. He was in a different universe, and he needed a way to deal with all of this.

Peter had the itching feeling that going home was no longer an option. Even if it was, he wouldn’t know how, and there was no guarantee what would be waiting for him on the other side. The Guardians of the Galaxy all turned to ash seconds before Peter did- who's to say the same didn’t happen to his loved ones? To May? Ned? MJ?

The teen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he directed his path towards the more.. Higher-class side of Gotham. He wanted to get out of the crime-ridden areas as soon as possible. The quicker he found somewhere to get help without exposing his cross dimensional identity the better.

After sneaking onto three public buses, jumping a subway gate, and offering his seat on the train to a pregnant woman, he stepped out into the lighter side of the city. Entering a place that he noted on a brochure map as Bristol, he looked around curiously at the cityscape before him.

Here the sidewalks were new, the traffic lights worked, and there was greenery lining every corner. Fancy and expensive cars that reminded Peter of The Great Gatsby carted up and down the roads. Teens in navy blue school uniforms walked in the same direction, likely towards a school.

Getting enrolled in a school sounded fantastic right about now, because it would mean easy access to both information and a chemistry lab. Unfortunately, it was hard to get enrolled anywhere when you had no documents like Peter.

Instead, he turned towards the neighborhoods. One of these rich families had to have something good in their garbage. Some thrown out devices, good clothes, maybe even food that the picky kids were too biased to eat.

Honestly, Peter would take anything at this point. He just needed resources, even if it came from a rich man’s dumpster. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and in this scenario, Peter was dumpster diving from modern Kings.

The first few houses that he passed had long winding driveways, and sleek, modern buildings. They were boxy and dark, with too many windows. He could have sworn that he saw a pool in more than a few backyards through the slatted gates. Only one place caught his eye.

A large brooding manor sat on top of a slight hill, with a driveway comparable to a hiking trail. Its gates, while well kept, were obviously old. Likely the first gates and fences to be put on the property. Thanks to Karen connecting to the internet last night, Peter could ask her a few questions now.

“Who lives here?” Peter asked, standing in front of the gate and mentally debating how much energy it would take to scale it without triggering the multiple sensors he had already spotted.

“You are looking at Wayne Manor, home of Bruce Wayne and some of his children.”

“Only some?” Peter asked casually, grabbing a hold of the bars and starting to climb upwards. Sure, he was in broad daylight, but all the teens were at school by now, and any adults were either at work or still in bed, truly living luxurious lives.

“Yes, currently his sons Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne live here. His other children include Richard Grayson-Wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, and his two daughters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”

The amount of last names gave Peter a pretty clear image of what kind of guy Bruce Wayne was: and that was a playboy. He had lots of kids, only a few lived at home, and almost all of them had two last names. If the manor wasn’t so Victorian looking, Peter might have even dared to compare Bruce to Tony.

“Anything else I need to know about this place?”

“Bruce Wayne is the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, having taken over the company after his parents both died when he was young. He seems to have a tendency to take in orphans, as well as making hefty donations to public works projects. As for the Wayne Property, both the house and the fence are original. I am however picking up some sort of underground space, but there appears to be something blocking my signal.”

Peter landed on the other side of the fence, flat-footed boots crunching on the gravel. “Something blocking your signal?” he asked, starting his trek up the driveway. Learning this history was cool and all, but he was more interested in both the trash and that underground room? Space? Either way, he wanted to know what it was.

“Yes, I can’t get a layout schematic of the room. However, I did get one of the rest of the house. The first-floor study has a secret staircase going down into the hidden room.”

“Cool, I’ll keep that in mind if they ever invite me in for tea.” The teen joked sarcastically, picking up a jog to reach the house.

He avoided the front door, porch, and steps with a ten-foot radius, instead going to either side to check for trash cans. Upon finding none, he frowned. They were likely kept in the back, so he continued his search. The cameras and sensors definitely went noticed, but he paid them no mind. The Waynes would just see a homeless man dumpster diving, no big deal. He was sure it happened all the time in Gotham.

Success shone on Peter in the form of two industrial-sized green dumpsters, one of which had the top open. Peter sighed quietly in relief, approaching them and first, checking for any internal sensors. Upon finding one, Peter climbed in as silently as possible.

This was not his first time going dumpster diving, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last, either. After the Battle of New York, Peter, May, and Ben had been temporarily homeless. This meant lots of dumpsters, shelters, and stretched thin dollars.

This also meant that Peter knew what to look for while diving for trash. Most businesses tended to use a strategy called “souping” to prevent dumpster divers, which was the process of individually opening and/or destroying any products so that no one would deem them valuable. Most private homes however did not do this.

A throat being cleared pulled Peter from his search, and he yelped in surprise, quickly standing up straight and looking towards the house. His tingle should have alerted him if anyone was around! Why did it not go off??

The man looking at Peter was a well kept older gentleman wearing an ensemble expected of a butler. The black suit and slacks were pressed to perfection, and even his white cuffs and undershirt lacked any sort of stain or evidence of wear. His hair was thin, balding, and a sterling gray. It used to be black. His mustache was perfect.

“...oh my, I hadn’t realized that you were a child.” The man’s posture and expression softened the moment that he took full stock of Peter. The teen frowned- okay he was small but he wasn’t that small.

“I’m sixteen, sir.” he mumbled, and Karen sparked quietly to life in his ear.

“Alfred Pennyworth. Former soldier during World War Two, and current butler for the household.”

Peter really would have enjoyed knowing that this man existed about ten minutes ago, so that he could have avoided the one man who probably knew everything about the property. Glancing down to the butler’s hands, he realized that he was carrying trash bags. That’s why the dumpster had been empty.

“I-I’m also sorry- uh I didn’t- look I can go-” Peter stumbled over his words and his feet, climbing out of the dumpster. His ribs stung when he arched his side, and he winced in discomfort.

“My boy, you are quite alright.” Pennyworth said quickly and calmly, setting down the two white garbage bags. “Are you injured?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, It’ll heal. I’m sorry about your– Mr. Wayne’s– uh- dumpster.” Peter said, feeling like a kicked puppy.

Alfred Pennyworth frowned, taking a few small steps towards Peter. Was he afraid that he would bolt? He really wanted to run, but he also really wanted to explain his way out of the situation. Maybe the butler wouldn’t call the cops if Peter explained.

“I’m not worried about the dumpster, dear boy, I’m worried about you. You are caked with bruises and blood.” he opened his stance a little, a move that showed comfort. He was trying to make Peter more comfortable. “May I know your name?”

Peter swallowed, licking his dry lips. He really wanted to ask Karen what the best course of action was here, but if he spoke out loud, he would seem insane. So he stayed quiet, hands curling up in his jacket pockets.

“Alfred Pennyworth has a record of being both trustworthy and reliable.”

It was like she read his mind. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and spoke. “...Peter.”

Alfred smiled gently, extending a white gloved hand to the boy. “Peter, my name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please, just call me Alfred.”

Peter reached out and took his hand in a timid shake, closing the distance between them. His hand was so dirty he almost felt bad about potentially soiling the glove, but then he realized that Alfred probably had a dozen more pairs somewhere in the Manor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

The butler chuckled, grip both firm and comforting. Karen was right, this man seemed very trustworthy. Something about Peter told him that Alfred was his best source of help at the moment. It was probably why his tingle didn’t activate when the man stepped outside.

“Peter, might I interest you in a glass of tea? It won’t take long, and I’d like to check on any injuries you may have.” he offered carefully, slowly releasing the teen’s hand.

Peter chewed the inside of his mouth, glancing to the side of Alfred where the path wrapped back around to the front of the Manor. He could still run if he really wanted to.

But he trusted Karen, and Karen seemed to trust Alfred. Her judgment had never been wrong before.

“...tea sounds nice.”

[starastarship]

Mother Moon

"So..... the feather carnival is starting soon!"

A dark blue owl like creature was sitting on the turquoise green hills of their home planet. Behind them was a blueish tree with hanging lavender colored leafs. Every time a small breeze came, some leafs came of, letting themselves get taken away from the wind. Besides the blue feathered figure, was a bit smaller feathered figure but white. They had their knees up, hugging them with the thick wings and head on the knees, looking at the moon.

"Star?"

The white colored owl looked at the blue one a bit surprised. The other waited on the others answer

"Yes?"

The bigger one laughed a bit, making Star blush in embarrassment. They looked away, ashamed that they didn't listen.

"Thinking about the Moon again?"

"y-yes"

The blue one chuckled a bit, petting their head. They leaned back softly looking at the same yellow glowing moon. The Moon was something Star always admired. Of course everyone of their species admired the moon for various reasons, but for the white owl it was alot more.

"Say... shall I tell you the story of our Mother Moon again?"

The blue owl laughed a bit as Star nodded her head in an aggressive manner:

"Alright once upon a time there was an owl. This owl wanted to know something. If every other night, a drop from the moon travels into the night sky, where does it come from? The moon was such a big mystery but no one was allowed to get near it, so she never asked. never looked for herself!

One day however, something happened! The drops suddenly stopped. At first it was no big deal, but the more time went on the more it seems the moon started dying, losing it's glow and color. The owls were scared! The moon was their only light against the dark, so darkness was spreading fast!

But something had to be done! So the owl, who became the leader of her people, told everyone

"I shall go to the moon and bring it back to live!"

She said goodbye to her husband and children, promising she will come back. And so the owl made her way up! up and further up! Flying through the cold wind of the the sky, outside of their planet and up to the now grey and dark moon!

When she arrived she saw the moon for what it was for the first time yet it was sad. There were plants that had died, trees that lost their leafy hair, dry grass all around a small river of water that was gone! The Moon truly was dead.

But that didn't stop her. She went to work and repairing the moon bit by bit. Years went on and the moon became her home! The plants came back, the live it once had started again. But she knew she couldn't go back home or the moon would die again! So every night, she would watch her planet thinking about the people she loved the most.

So that her family would not forget her, every year in the spring, she will pull her most treasured, the biggest feathers of her body out and send it to the wind, giving them a piece of her!"

"I love that story!"

Star said smiling at her, soon yawning softly. The blue owl looked at her smiling herself.

"Thanks aunt Moonlight!"

Starchild closed her eyes as her Aunt picked her up and walked back to their home, to bring her to her mother for bed time!

"I am sure one day, you are going to see the moon too!"

-------

Hah get some culture lore for Palora! I came up with some like legend/ Story idea that the children on Palora used to hear about their moon! so I wrote this!

Space rider au by @onyxonline

[soulreapin]

some silly lance hcs for the soul :)

Once went to planet that had a similar beach to Varadero, and got a glass jar full of the sand and shells. Made him feel as if he still had a piece of home with him, even if it really wasn’t home. (keeps that jar on shelf in his room on the castle)

Anytime he’s watching a show/movie, he’ll always point out how attracted he is to a character. (“He’s so pretty I think i’m in love Hunk”)

Lance and his twin caused THE MOST trouble growing up. I’m talking about drawing on the walls, destroying toys, stealing from the convenience store, food fights at school, LOTS of detention, sneaking out together late at night, etc. (those drawings are still on the wall at their house) they ran their neighborhood, starting a giant friend group of scary lil sun kissed kids. he thinks about them in space from time to time

owns blue moana watch (keeps it on his shelf)

Pro Surfer, like the ocean was practically his second home.

idk, i thought some of these were silly 🙇‍♀️

OUGHHHH i love these. blue moana watch…..ive fuckin seen that somewhere else and i dont know where but i love it to pieces

along with telling hunk he also tells keith (his boyfriend) how beautiful he thinks that character is and keith looks at him with such an Active Bitch Face allura stirs at the other end of the castle because drama hath been invoked

thank you for the hcs anon i will treasure them greatly 😁

[psychedelic-ink]

* i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, reposted or translated (without my knowledge)

TV SHOWS & MOVIES MASTERLIST

PPCU MASTERLIST.

🔮 personal favorite || ☔️ smut || 🤧 angst || 🧁 fluff || 🩸 dark content

The Green Moon 🤧☔️

it's been a month since grogu left with the jedi and you hate to see din so heart broken. What better distraction than to explore a foreign planet? in your desperate attempt to make him feel better, everything goes wrong.

Watch 🤧☔️

You're one the brink of dying. Your stomach restless with hunger as you come back to Nevarro after months to find a job but instead finding a warm meal, you have a run in with your ex: Din. Oh joy.

Poison & Wine (feat. duke leto) ☔️

the razor crest is low on fuel and din knows the perfect pit spot.

River ☔️

din likes it when you cry for him.

No Brakes ☔️

you have a bounty on your head, din takes the job.

This is the Way ☔️

It can be hard to understand Din and his creed, but the two of you try to make it work anyway.

Flowers That Bloom in Winter 🧁

A spiteful coworker ruins the flower arrangements you had hoped to compete with. Not knowing what can be done, you entertain a young boy named Grogu who comes in at the same time wanting to buy a bouquet for his father. The next day, Din returns and offers to help you out with your work until a competition. However, he is a bit awkward and clumsy when it comes to love.

I go round and round ☔️

waking up with din is a fun experience.

the aurora borealis☔️

A friend, lover, then stranger. The last thing you expected was to be snowed in along with the bounty hunter. Tension rises as the past circles you both, trapped in the Razor Crest with no where to run or hide.

Fear Not The Abyss ☔️🩸

cult au + “do you like it when i bleed for you?”

din initiates you into the cult.

Alien Blues 🤧☔️

You walk deeper into the Razor Crest, you can hear him following you, his steps rageful. Thank god Grogu isn’t here, you don’t think you can keep your anger to yourself tonight. You attempt to put as much of a distance your can between the two of you but before you can he grabs your wrist and tugs you to him. Your shoulder aches from the force, it fuels the anger. 

Somebody Desperate ☔️

Din needs to feel you, both emotionally and physically.

Tattoo Artist Din

I got a tattoo today and always wanted to write a tattoo shop au but since I don't really have the time to write a full-on fic right now I decided to write a couple of headcanons

Baker Din Djarin

Din wakes up early, opens up the shop, and starts working on the dough. He feels the strain in his biceps as he works the dough, the heat from the ovens causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead. After putting them in the oven, he briefly locks up and helps grogu ready for school.

I've Got You Darlin' - Moonknight x f!reader x Din Djarin 🔮☔️🤧

you find yourself in the middle of a dangerous race of who will steal priam's treasure first; a mysterious cloaked figure who calls himself moon knight or a man in clad armor who calls himself the mandalorian. amongst the chaos, you and steven try to protect the remnants of history.

[lbibliophile-sw]

(Sun)Rise and Shine

Also on AO3 (220w) @codex-week - day 7: farewells and reunions

For all that they are supposed to be identical, Rex finds that his brothers are very different as people.

Cody, for example, is absolutely not a morning person. He refuses to get out of bed before being summoned by his alarm or comm, and is half-zombie until he’s had a hit of either caf or adrenaline.

Rex, on the other hand, likes the early morning. He likes the quiet of just being, free from the responsibilities that consume the rest of his day. On clear days when they are on-planet he will find a vantage point where he can watch the sunrise; breathing in the stillness as streaks of soft pink and rich gold reach across the sky, fading to brilliant blue. On the best mornings, Rex stays in bed, watching the growing light play across the familiar features beside him, smiling as Cody grumbles and buries his face in Rex’s shoulder.

Rex treasures these mornings, knowing that such opportunities never last. All too soon, the 501st or 212th is called away to the next mission. All too soon, he is standing in a hanger or landing field, watching instead the painted sunrise on Cody’s chest as they say farewell.

Gold-armoured hand clasps blue, then they separate, and Rex leaves to face the new day.