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#This art is directed at me. It tells a story only i know

needfantasticstories · 3 days

Text

“Many places I have been

Many sorrows I have seen

But I don't regret

Nor will I forget

All who took that road with me”

-The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd

This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja, after 86 chapters, 300k words, and 10 months of joy, laughter, tears, heartbreak and love, has finally reached its end.

Adjuration is a tragedy that is nothing short of an act of love. That much is clear in the passion and dedication put towards the story, the characters, and the message Freyja is trying to convey. This fic will teach you about love. About death. About the inevitability of existence and why despite knowing it will all come to an end, there is still meaning in trying and hoping and loving each other. In loving yourself. You will laugh, you will cry, you will hope and you will despair as you read this story, but you will not be able to put it down.

It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been so important to and loved by so many people. So we won’t. Instead, we will say thank you for this incredible journey and the community this fic has built. For the friendships that have been made and the endless inspiration you have given us. Thank you for wanting to tell a story, and for letting us join you around the campfire to listen.

Thank you.

(If you like Linked Universe and haven’t yet read Adjuration, see below for spoiler free reviews of this fic and artist credits.)

This is an Adjuration is the kind of story you fall in love with, the kind of story you think keep thinking about long after you put it down. The kind you keep finding hidden details in after you think you’ve got it figured out.

The characters are distinct and people with their own voices, motivations, relationships and histories. You’ll have your favourites but love them all. They influence how you’ll see the characters in everything else.

It’s full of moments where everything clicks and everything before is recontextualised in a way that’s so satisfying and make the whole story very re-readable. A time travel story where all loops are already closed, where you can know but not yet understand what will happen. It’s long, complex, and beautifully, meticulously planned and detailed. It’s clever and considered, funny and heartbreaking.

A story that whispers ‘it matters’ over and over. It is worth it to love, it is worth it if it doesn’t last forever, it is worth it to give someone a little more time, it is worth it to fight. It’s about loving others and your world and finding grace for yourself.

It’s loss and tragedy and the cruelness of fate. It is the sacrifice and the breaking.

Full of heart to both fill yours and break it in the best possible way.

It’s about love. Always.

By @toyouhellohowareyou

Sometimes, it’s hard to explain to others why art moves us.

I could tell you This is an Adjuration will make you cry, laugh, and sit at the edge of your seat in anticipation. And it’s probably true - I did all of that as I read, often with a coffee in one hand, early in the morning as I got ready for the day.

But that’s not the reason why I’m writing this.

The real reason is how it followed me during the rest of the day.

You see, at a certain point I realized this isn’t a story about Links going on adventures. Well, it does feature Links, and they do go on adventures, so let’s talk about that for a minute.

The first thing that caught my attention about this book was the characters. Each individual is unique, interesting, and exciting to follow. Not only are the Links individually compelling, but one thing that stands out in Adjuration is how the relationship between each Hero and their own worlds matter, and these connections shift, evolve, break and grow as the plot progresses.

Freyja does an incredible job of bringing together impactful storytelling with humor and heart. This is an Adjuration starts with an interesting premise, and then twists and turns in directions you wouldn’t expect. It’s rich in thought-provoking moments, soft joy and intense action, blended in with carefully crafted time travel and magic.

Adjuration sucked me into the world it builds, combining believable characters with fascinating stories, an unnervingly devious antagonist, plot twists, and lovingly crafted details that slip unnoticed until you’re surrounded on all sides. It made me cheer for characters I feel as if I’ve known intimately for years, made me worry for their safety as I would for that of a loved one, kept me hunting for hints and hidden references, pulling on a thread to try to find the end only for it to twist and loop into itself and show me a completely new side to the story.

Yes, This is an Adjuration is a fanfiction piece that explores the winding river flow of the Legend of Zelda timeline and how the stories of each Hero merge into each other. It also stands out for its heavy emotional content, and it doesn’t shy away from angst and hurt.

But to me, Adjuration is an epic journey that taught me how the choices we make, make us in turn. It’s a tragedy that deals with pain and healing, and it bares naked the non-linear nature of grief. It’s a celebration of the things that make us unique, of our flaws, an essay of the impact of little acts of love. Indeed, it’s a story about love.

I can tell you now, This is an Adjuration moved me. It still does. It has a special way to surface in my mind in unexpected ways at seemingly random times, from something as simple as tossing an apple core, to watching a lightning storm in the distance, or finding a picture of an old friend.

And every time, without fail, it makes me think about love.

By @sunny-porridge

This is an Adjuration is a wonderfully and beautifully crafted story about love, loss, and choice as the various incarnations of Link come together and travel through time. Freyja seamlessly weaves a tapestry of setup and payoff across different timelines and loops, in the best-constructed time travel plot I’ve ever seen on page or screen. Even at its surface, Adjuration is an emotional rollercoaster involving tragedy and the soft moments that make that tragedy worth it. But the deeper you look, the more meaning you can pull from every chapter of this amazing work. This work has made me cry, squeal with delight, and think more deeply about its themes all while having an absolute blast reading it. So in summary: READ IT. READ IT. READ IT NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.

By @life-in-winter

While I love that every chapter is emotionally enthralling, with carefully woven, visceral tension you crave in any good story, yet Adjuration is more than that, and you feel it in the careful weave of each character and plot point. Nothing is lost or unanswered. It's the kind of story that, by the end, makes you stop and take a hard look at your own life. Are you appreciating the now? Are you savoring joy? Are you so wrapped up in fear that you can hardly take care of yourself? Do you know who you are?

This story is more like an external experience. It's riding atop a tsunami. How do you handle that ride, Link?

There aren't enough words to describe how amazing this fic is.

@needfantasticstories

Artist credit

Legend: @gia-d

Hyrule: @bittirsweeteer

Time: @toonblade

Sky: @noorahqar

Warriors: @whitewinterstar

Wild: @weavingstarlight

Twilight: @bluury2

Wind: @thewitchdoctor39

Four: @lunaopus

Red: @peepthatbish

Blue: @glowingmin

Green: @winterfen

Vio: @waterfallstream

Shadow: @deleetrix

Wolfie: @linkiscool333

Fierce Deity: @awildsilver

Ravio: @lele5429

Malon: @tooner-tastic

Dink: @passerinesoncaffeine

326 notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 9 months

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I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

#sorry #this isn't an actionable answer to your question #I don't know what that answer is #I just need people to realize art is not the exclusive creation of the wealthy #and treating it as such is making everything worse

4K notes · View notes

pandoraslxna · 6 months

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Too close to the sun

adult Ao’nung x female metkayina reader x adult Neteyam

Words: 10.6k

Summary: Ao’nung loved you as Icarus loved the sun- too close, too much.

Warnings: explicit smut, mmf threesome, ooc Neteyam, biting, p in v, oral, toxic behavior, jealousy, possessive behavior, best friends with benefits, fake dating, angst, one sided love, double penetration, anal

Adult Neteyam / Ao‘nung art by the amazing @cinetrix 🩵

Notes: I was aiming for porn and it got emotional my bad

Translation:

Tsawke = sun

Sevin = pretty

Paskalin = honey

"Everyone knows the story of Icarus, who Daedalus warned not to fly too near to the sea, nor too close to the sun.

Have caution, they are saying, because when they tell you this story they are Daedalus.

Have caution, I am saying, because when I tell you this story, you are Ikarus and I am the sun."

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Ao’nung wasn’t always in love with you. And there’s nothing he wishes more, than for the time to come back where he wasn’t. That time, before that dumb arrangement.

It was a double edged sword.

It wasn't so much a friends with benefits arrangement as it was a assured destruction. Because Ao’nung hadn’t known what he was agreeing to.

“Nungy, would you do me a favour?”

 You see, spending every possible second with you has taught Ao’nung to be cautious, to pick up on those minuscule changes in your voice, in your eyes. And the way you called him by this silly little nickname made goosebumps break out over his skin, because whenever you blinked up at him with those big doe eyes and that innocent little smile and then called him nungy, he knew that there was something that you wanted and he also knew that there was no way he could ever deny you.

 “I’ll do you one too,” you promised, tilting your head, a mischievous smile tugging on the corner of your lips. Oh, you little…

 “…alright. What do you want now, hm?”

 Looking back, Ao’nung realizes that this was his first mistake. His next mistake was not getting up and running when you grinned at him like he was some prey that just walked into your trap. His biggest mistake, however, was not saying no when you proposed this strange arrangement.

"Please pretend that you… that you want me. That there’s something between us. Just for a while nungy, please. Maybe that would make him jealous, would make him realize that he wants me too."

 Or maybe he made the first mistake long before that. Maybe his biggest mistake was to befriend that little girl he made fun of, twenty years ago. Or maybe it was making fun of you in the first place. Maybe he should’ve never picked on you, should’ve never made you cry, maybe he should’ve never went to you and apologize, because he has never apologized to anyone else ever before. Maybe he shouldn’t have blushed like an idiot when you accepted his apology, swung your little arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, told him it was okay. Maybe, just maybe, he should’ve never made the girl cry that then accepted his apology so unconditionally that Ao’nung swore he would never let anything bad happen to you ever again, because you were the first person to accept him as he is, that could see through his façade and saw something good. Something worth to be loved.

He hadn’t known that he was agreeing to losing himself and becoming inseparable from you. Or maybe he had, he’d already known he needed you like his lungs needed air to breathe when it was just friendship between the two of you. He just hadn’t counted on how much his own helplessness to the whole situation would drive him crazy. How it would only be a matter of time before you sunk beneath his bones and nurtured this deep seated familiarity into a love so fierce that he would question if he had ever truly been in love before you came along.

But your love was directed to someone else.

Every single nerve-ending burned with the desire to haul a fist over and slam it into his face. It was on the verge of painful just to hold his muscles tightly still whenever he was around. If he did anything to this piece of shit, Ao’nung knew he would be the one to get punished for it.

Neteyam. He’s the one his tsawke was so head over heels for. The omatikaya prince that grew roots on his island a couple of years ago when his family sought otulu within his clan.

Ao’nung knew you had your eyes on him ever since you took part in training him for his second iknimaya with the metkayina. But he didn’t deserve your kindness. Neteyam didn’t deserve any of the things you did for him, the things you still do. Not with the way he had that filthy grin on his face when his eyes roamed your body. Not with the way he acted all innocent and kind in front of others, but his true nature made Ao’nung scrunch his nose in disgust.

Neteyam just wasn’t a good guy. Sure, he had this special talent in making others believe that he was, but he certainly wasn’t.

You’ve spent years trying to get his attention with courting gifts, fleeting touches and seductive words. But while Neteyam seemingly tried to leave his filthy fingertips on every women in the village, he barely paid you any mind. Just enough though, once in a while, to keep you wanting him, keep you on edge. Like this was all just a fun little game to him.

But what shocked Ao’nung most was, that you knew. You knew that he was a flirt, knew that he slept around, knew that he was playing with you, kept your hopes up for years on end but never returned any of these feelings or kind gestures to you and yet you still couldn’t peel your eyes away from him. It made his blood boil, because how could a smart little thing like you be so blind, so dumb to fall for him, of all people?

Truth be told, Ao’nung wasn’t even sure if part of the reason he agreed to any of this was that he was hoping it would work. Ao’nung was hoping this would get Neteyam jealous, he was hoping this would hurt him as much as it hurt you to find him flirting with another woman yet again, to find him wearing the bracelet you made while his hand was buried between another woman’s thighs. Yes, Ao’nung hoped it would hurt him. Even if he was hurting himself on the way.

But by eywa, could hurting himself feel any better?

The first time he gave in to you was intense. It left you with a noticeable, unplaceable stiffness in your walk the next morning, but aching to have him again. Ao’nung found himself unable to lean his weight fully against anything for three days, his muscles sore, feeling thicker than usual. There were gouges from your nails in his back, bruises from his hands on your body, marks from his teeth everywhere they could possibly cover. Marks that were normally meant for no one to see, yet you displayed them like they were art, meant to be noticed, to be seen.

"Louder, tsawke. Let him hear you."

He doesn’t know what drives him more insane. The feeling of your walls clamping down around his cock, squeezing him so painfully tight it felt like he might come undone at any second. Or the knowledge that you were doing this only now that he had mentioned him. Not that it actually mattered.

A wet rhythmic smack of flesh against flesh filled the air in your marui. Ao’nungs hands were at your hips in a tight grasp, your cheek shoved against the ground, ass high in the air as he pounded into you.

"Let him hear how good I’m making you feel", he whispered against the shell of your ear. "Moan my name."

Selfish, yes.

But you just sound so sweet when you gasp his name like that, with that whiny tone in your voice that’s halfway muffled into the sheets, little punched out moans garnishing the whole thing before his cock started throbbing inside you.

He made sure Neteyam heard every little noise you made, every moan, every whimper and every filthy squelch of his cock drilling into your wet heat. Ao’nung made sure he heard all of it. You were his, he let himself believe. Even if it was just for now, just for this.

"Ao’nung!" The name rolled off your tongue as a whimper, a gasp, followed by a choked-off moan as he gripped your hips and pressed himself closer against you, buried his face into the crook of your neck and lapped at the bite marks that he only recently put there.

Anyone could claim their mate with a courting gift, he thought proudly, sucking yet another hickey into your throat as he simultaneously trusted into you. But these bites and hickeys, they were an art that required precise observation from their presenter and the complete trust from their acceptor.

These weren’t cold, lifeless symbols of affection, no. You couldn’t just take them off. But they had short lifespans, often only a few days, a week if he was lucky. And this gave him the opportunity to continue to give you new ones over and over, of different sizes, shapes and colors; and if he didn't feel like putting them on your throat, then he could put them on your breasts, your hips, on your wrists, your shoulders or your thighs.

Your entire body was an available canvas for these markings and he took great advantage of this.

Ao’nung liked having the ability to move them and create new ones as the old faded and disappeared. He liked having the opportunity to accept and receive his own markings when your old ones had once again retreated from sight.

They were profoundly intimate, a powerful symbol that was physically felt each and every time it was given to an extent that any other courting gift never would be.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Yesterday night’s memories were still pretty much livid in front of his minds eye as Ao’nung not so subtle failed to listen to his so called friends about whatever they were talking about.

Nothing they weren’t used to. It’s not like he had ever actively participated in a conversation that wasn’t about him, anyways. And it’s not like he cares much about what that says about him. Ao’nung knows these guys aren’t really his friends. At least not like you are. They’re more like his goons, brainless little minions that have been following him around and would listen to every one of his orders since the day they found out he will be the next olo’eyktan. He’s almost certain that they wouldn’t stick to him if it weren’t for this fact.

Gentle waves rock him back and forth on his tsurak, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the vast ocean, his spear-gun strapped to his back as they wait for the rest of the hunting party to join them.

Ao’nung doesn’t need a mirror to know that he must’ve looked like he was ready to commit a crime when some of the younger hunters were accompanied by the Sully brothers, and he wonders which of these skxawngs had invited them so he knew which of them to exile from any hunts for the next month or so.

Neteyam greets the others first as he approches, polite as ever, but there’s a knowing, dirty little grin reserved just for him as he turns in his direction to reach a hand out for him to shake, like they’re friends. Ao’nung fights the urge to scoff and roll his eyes at that.

Reaching their chosen spot, he then signals the other hunters to prepare their fishing spears and nets. Each of them take their position, their eyes keenly scanning the water's surface for any sign of movement, while some others submerge into the deeper water.

However, Ao’nungs own eyes are unfocused. He has a hard time concentrating on anything other than that insufferable forest boy swimming only mere inches away from him. Like letting his five fingered freak of a brother participate wasn’t already enough of an insult to his warriors pride. No, now there were two of these demon spawns here with him. He knew Neteyam wasn’t even doing anything particular annoying, yet it felt like he was taunting him with every breath he took.

It was as if he could sense his thoughts, because a shadow suddenly casts over the spot Ao’nung had aimed his spear to, making it impossible for him to see through the waters surface. Looking up, Ao‘nung is then met with a pair of golden eyes and sharp teeth grinning back at him.

Any complain about Neteyam blocking out the sun so the man would hopefully move and bother someone else dies on his tongue, the moment his gaze lands on the shiny pearl that’s dangling over his shoulder, tidily braided into a strand of ink-black hair.

Ao’nung would probably recognize this white pearl everywhere. He was with you the day you had found the shell, had watched you crave and polish it for hours. He had wordlessly sat besides you, pondering if you even realized that a similar pearl garnished his songcord as a reminder of the day he had met you. That he had once sat where you sat, spent hours working in concentration to crave the pearl from such a filigree shell that his hands were hurting for days, hoping you would return the gesture to him one day.

"Neat, huh?" The omatikaya smiles, but it’s not a genuine one, before he brushes through his braids and twirls the pearl between his fingertips. It makes Ao’nung snap out of his thoughts, and he’s quick to advert his gaze to the sun, secretly hoping it will burn his eyes so he would never have to look at it on him again.

He just hums, barely a coherent response. While he wants to agree, simply for the fact that you had made it, he would also rather die than compliment the demons son. And he knows Neteyam just want to force a reaction out of him, so he chose to end the conversation right here and wordlessly swims a little further, where he then aims his spear to the waters surface, targeting a fish with precision and—

"Almost as pretty as the little thing that made it for me." Neteyam squints his eyes at him as he chuckles, and this time his amusement is sincere. Aimed to hit a nerve.

With a swift motion, Ao'nung hurles his spear into the water, but it completely misses the shimmery fish that had caught his eyes.

He turns to glare at the man that’s practically begging to be the next target. His Tsurak growls, making the water around him vibrate as it feels the anger radiating off his rider through the bond.

"I didn’t mean to insult you", Neteyam laughs and shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender. "You two are awfully close, no?"

With a sigh, he regains his composure, takes a deep breath and, afraid that whatever might come out of his mouth would only start something that wouldn’t do him good, simply choose to nod instead, his eyebrows still drawn together tightly. Neteyams grin still hasn’t vanished, yet he seems to mimic the way Ao’nungs spine had straightened, which in return made him feel like he was under interrogation.

"How come I still haven’t seen any courting gifts on her then? Whatever it is called that you have with her, is that some kind of arrangement or…?"

"Nothing that should concern you, forest boy", he cuts him off.

"Hmh, right." Neteyam nods and Ao’nung can’t help but pray to eywa that this would finally be the end of this uncomfortable conversation. Unfortunately, it is not, as the forest boy then swims a little closer, his voice low as he says, "Well, by the sound of the moans you knock out of her", a look comes over Neteyams face, and it sickens him to realize it was arousal. "I may have to try my hand at her sometime too, just to see what all the fuss is about. Seems like she loves to spread her thighs for just anyone."

Ao’nung balled his fists, and ground his teeth together so hard, he was almost certain he could hear a crack. It took every last ounce of energy not to lunge at him.

Neteyams words whispered over and over and over in his head, a rolling loop that he thought might actually drive him insane.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Never had left him a hunting trip so tense before, Ao’nung realized, sighing as he lowered himself into the water. It was warm and relaxing, soothing his tense muscles and the ache he felt.

He seemed to get like this a lot lately, feeling stressed and tense and trying harder than ever to will himself to sleep, to concentrate and to stop thinking about this. But it was impossible. Ao’nung found his mind going back to the same problem over and over again and he found worry and jealousy rising in the pit of his gut more and more.

It had been some time since his last visit to the hot springs in the center of the island, and at least the waters were soothing on his overworked body. Not to mention the way your hands were gently running over his shoulders, as you positioned yourself to straddle his lap.

The hot spring was large, a natural pool that sat surrounded by smooth stones, leaving the air here steamy and considerably warmer than the rest of the forest. A popular spot to bath for the metkayina, but tonight it was calm and empty.

Long, ropy vines hung low and mingled with purple leafy plants above him. Bountiful beds of marigold, azure, blazing red, and creamy orange blossoms lined the space that the pool inhabited. Small particles of pollen danced in the steam that rose to the sky. Blue-green moss coated the rocks where their surface was wet and slick from the humidity.

You had both stripped out of your clothes, long past being uncomfortable with each other's nudity. Your warm, soft breasts now pressed against his chest, thighs framing his waist and his body finally relaxes as he deeply inhales the swirling aromas of both, the hot spring, filled with oils and herbs, and also your sweet natural scent.

Ao’nung rests his back against a rock that had been weathered smooth, his hands gliding over the soft skin of your back, up and down, as you continue to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and neck. Through the upper canopy of the trees he could see night draw in and a soft rumble filled his chest as he pulled you closer.

"Still not going to talk to me about what happened today?"

Your playful voice is what makes him pry his eyes open and unfortunately return his mind to the moment and todays memories.

"Nothing happened today, tsawke. I already told you", he grumbles.

"You know I can tell when you’re lying", you push and Ao‘nung wants to roll his eyes, but he misses the strength to do so. Instead, he just buries his face into the crock of neck and makes a sound of annoyance. "And you’re never like this after a hunt. Normally, I can’t even get you to shut up about how you made the biggest catch and how you’re oh so much better than everyone else, how they’re all just a bunch of skxawngs and– ", you begin to mock him, but can’t finish the sentence as a teasing little giggle bursts out of you.

"That does not sound like me at all", he protests, yet can’t hide the lazy grin forming on his lips.

It’s moments like these that Ao’nung values most about your friendship. It feels so intimate and natural, the way you so playfully interact with him. How close you are, physically and mentally. You take care of each other, even if the ways in which you do, go beyond any normal friendship. It just feels so good to be in your presence, it makes him forget about the world around him for a while. Makes him forget why he was even so tense, what exactly had plagued his mind in the first place. There was just you now.

Ao’nung doesn’t even try to wipe the woozy smile from his face as he listens to your soft giggles and the joy it brings you to tease him, to know that you’re the only one allowed to do this and continue unharmed. Oh, how you loved to take advantage of the soft spot he had for you.

Your chest was still pressed firmly against his own, droplets of water running down your collarbone and collecting in a small puddle where your breasts are squished together. You wear your hair up in a bun, a few messy strands sticking to the sweaty skin of neck and forehead and Ao’nung thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes upon.

Between soft laughs as you mimic his cocky way of presenting himself, he catches you off guard as he suddenly presses his lips against yours.

He knows there’s no reason to do this. You’re all alone out here, so there’s no point in trying to make someone jealous that wasn’t even there to witness it. But from time to time, both of you had sought the other out just to get some sort of relief, so this wasn’t really something new to either of you. This agreement had long become more than a means to make Neteyam jealous. Besides, if he had to pick something he would get out of this agreement, it was this. After all, you promised him a favor if he would agree.

Your lips are soft and your tongue tastes warm and sweet as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head and cradling the back of your head to get better access. It doesn’t even take a heartbeat for you to relax into the kiss, exhaling a soft sigh as your arms encircle his neck and pull him closer.

The gentle sway of the water fuses you tighter together, and soon you’re rubbing and grinding against each others wet bodies. His hands are everywhere on you, pushing and pulling and kneading every inch of skin until your cheeks are flushed red and you’re panting against his lips.

"Please", you whisper softly, and he feels your thighs squeeze around his middle. Your hands roam over the muscles of his chest, then down over his abs, between your bodies, until they reach the base of his cock. "Please, can you…"

"Can I what?", Ao’nung breathes against your lips. He plants open mouthed kisses from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your throat. "Talk to me, tsawke. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me", you say, and it’s so whiny it almost sounds like a complain. Meanwhile your hands begin to stroke and squeeze up and down the length of his cock. It makes him chuckle as he licks a wet stripe from your collarbone down to your breast, "But I am touching you."

You make a frustrated sort of noise and Ao’nung smiles, softly, fondly, and then he carefully closes his teeth around a nipple and tugs.

"Fu– Fuck, c-come…on", you pant, "You know what I mean! Just— please!"

His tongue traces from your breast back up to your throat, where he buries his face into your skin to inhale more of that natural sweet scent you release. Ao’nung let’s out a deep groan once you stroke him a little faster and it almost makes him forget what he was supposed to do with his own hands.

"Please, Ao’nung", you whine again, but what snaps him out of his aroused trance isn’t your pleading voice. It’s the sound of someone else approaching the hot spring with a low chuckle.

"It’s not nice to make a woman beg like this."

You inhale a sharp gasp, pressing yourself tighter against Ao’nungs chest in an attempt to shield your naked front from any unwanted viewers. His tattooed arms hold you close, encircled around your back and covering your skin as much as possible. With his eyebrows knit together, he glances over the top of your head to see who was stupid enough to interrupt his alone time with you.

"Oh, please don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the show."

Neteyam. Oh isn’t this just great, Ao’nung thinks to himself, grinding his teeth as he watches toruk maktos eldest step into his direct view.

There’s a sharp grin plastered on his entirely too perfect face. And this man dares to call himself a warrior? There’s not a hint of a scar on his skin, not one tattoo adorning his body that could tell of his victories, his hunts. He might as well be a nobody.

"What are you doing here?" The grip Ao’nung has on you is possessively tight and for a moments he thinks he’s the reason for your breath has stopped.

"Well, what do you think?", Neteyam chuckles and the golden color of his eyes seems to glint in the moonlight as they rake over your exposed back. "I came here to bath, just didn’t know this spot was already… occupied."

It’s a reasonable response. But not even close to a good enough reason for him to stay.

"You can leave then."

Neteyam did not seem to share the same thought.

"Hm, I don’t think I will. Besides, that gives us the chance to continue our nice conversation from earlier, don’t you think?"

Ao’nungs growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he watches him step closer to the hot spring. Briefly, he remembers that he had very clearly warned the brat to stay away from you this morning, even if it was through gritted teeth and words that were generally much nicer than the ones he would’ve preferred to use.

Neteyams hands were already working to untie the knot that held his loincloth together, before he paused for a moment. A quick glance to your face and Ao’nung was met with the sight of your widened eyes, lips slightly parted as you were obviously trying and failing to proceed what was even happening. Neteyam then pauses.

"Unless you…", with a tilt of his head his eyes meet yours, a sly smile pulling at the corner of his lips, "want me to leave?"

Taken aback, your breath hitches in your throat. There’s a look of uncertainty on your face, as if you were struggling to express what you wanted. If you even knew what you wanted, Ao’nung thought. Your eyes then skipped between both men for a moment, a blush spreading over your cheeks so deep, they were almost turning purple now.

Ao’nung feels his chest tighten as you glanced from Neteyam to him, and then back to Neteyam. For a moment he’s scared you would tell him to leave, now that what must’ve been a dream to you finally seemed to come true. But you don’t. You just say nothing.

"That’s what I thought. You don’t mind if I do, right?" A soft rumble filled the man’s chest, almost a purr, as he untied his loincloth and then stepped into the water.

Your breathing had picked up rapidly, Ao’nung realized, feeling the way your chest pushed against his own as you inhaled quick, shallow pants of air. There’s a moment of very uncomfortable silence, made worse only by the tension that filled the air as Neteyam let out a content sigh after making himself comfortable, sitting with his back against a rock, arms sprawled out over the edge of the hot spring like he owned the place.

His abs tense just above the waters surface as he stifles a laugh, and he brushes a loose braid behind his ear while his eyes seem to be glued to yours.

"By the look on her face I assume you haven’t told her about our conversation from this morning?" He asks, his gaze moving for just a split second to look at him. You seem to follow his example and crane your neck up to look at him questioningly, your brows raised high.

Ao’nung can't think about what he's supposed to say now. If he thinks too much about it, he'll end up punching him in the face and it probably won't end there. It’s like Neteyam can read his mind, or maybe he’s just good at reading facial expressions, because he’s quick to give an answer to the confused look on your face before Ao’nung even has the chance to open his mouth.

"Sevin", Neteyam says and Ao’nung wants to vomit, "why don’t you turn and face me, hm? It’s rude not to look at the person that is talking to you, don’t you think?"

Ao’nungs arms tighten around you, so hard it’s like he’s afraid you‘ll float away if he won’t hold you close enough.

But then you whisper a soft, "It’s okay", and uncontrolled jealousy punched right at his gut as you wriggled yourself free.

It’s almost like he had forgotten for a moment that this was kinda part of the deal. That he’s not the one that’s supposed to be jealous. That if he were a good friend, he would’ve gotten up and left ten minutes ago, give the two of you some space, help you achieve the goal you’ve been working so hard for the past year or so.

Usually, Ao’nung could camouflage all and any feelings from anyone very well behind angry glares and scornful smiles. He was an impenetrable wall for those around him. Except for you, of course, who could normally read him like an open book. But now that your attention was entirely directed to someone else, you couldn’t even see the way a flash of hurt and jealousy came over his face for just a heartbeat.

Your hands trembled as he helped maneuver you to sit on his lap, facing Neteyam that sat opposite of you.

"That’s much better, isn’t it?" He grins and you give him a sheepish little nod, blushing even deeper as he purrs a whispered praise. Ao’nungs arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him. He feels the soft of your bottom pressed against his crotch, and if it weren’t for the current situation, he would’ve loved nothing more than to slide into you and take you just like this. Unfortunately, the omatikaya sitting right in front him then continues to talk and sets every single nerve inside him on fire with the urge to get up and push his head under the waters surface until he stops mov—

"I meant what I said, by the way." He says and all of those murderous thoughts inside his head come to an halt. "There’s no need to stop doing what you’re doing just because I’m here."

He wants to laugh in the forest boy’s face, but decides to shove it back down and manages to keep his expression impassive.

"On the contrary. I‘m very content with watching." A seductive little wink is send your way and Ao’nungs whole body tenses. Neteyams gaze then lands on him and Ao’nung suddenly knows that he wants him to try something.

Ao’nung has a temper. He‘s always had a temper, everyone knows, and Neteyam is just trying to be provocative, Ao’nung tries to remind himself. But now his temper already flares, bright and white-hot, and he almost doesn't care about a response, doesn’t care about what he could answer to this as long as it hurts, so he bites his tongue hard enough to taste copper.

It’s unfortunate for both of them, that Neteyam can’t seem to shut up, despite the fact that neither him nor you had said anything yet. He‘s confident in every word that leaves his mouth, not even caring about what the two of you would think of him as he goes on, "Oh, right, I almost forgot. Since your dear friend hasn’t told you yet, I guess it’s my duty to enlighten you."

One of his hands curls into a fist and he can't seem to relax it, before he realizes it’s your hip that he’s squeezing. Not hard enough to hurt, but he lingers for a long moment before he can force himself to loosen up. He apologizes with a fleeting kiss to your shoulder, making sure to hold eye contact with the man in front of him, like it’s two Pxazang‘s battling for territory.

"Ao’nung and I had a very nice conversation this morning, and he actually made the proposal to…", his lip curls into a dangerous smile, "share you."

Ao’nungs mind goes blank. He wasn’t prepared for this.

Share you? But he did not…

His mouth opens to object, but all words seem to fail him, his brain struggling to keep up with what was happening, while he simultaneously tried to understand what Neteyam wanted to achieve with this lie.

"If that is something you would want, of course."

There it is again, that act of fake innocence, pretending to be oh, such a good and caring guy. It breaks his heart to see it working so well on you.

You glance up at him with those nantang puppy eyes full of hope and anticipation, "You… You did?"

But there’s silence and Ao’nung just looks at you. He listens once Neteyam opens his mouth again, he has to listen because his throat feels too dry to speak.

"Oh, yeah", he responds for him. A white lie, like everything else he had told you so far. "He told me how good of a friend you are and that this would be something you would truly enjoy. And I know for a fact that you really deserve this."

No. No, you don’t deserve this, don’t deserve him. And sharing you like this was never part of the deal, it wasn’t part of the agreement to take a part in any of this, to watch his filthy hands touch you. Ao’nung was never one to share his possessions– he never talked about his feelings, he just acted, knowing what he wanted and going for it. That was how he did everything; with quick deliberation leading to a fast resolve, quite the opposite of Neteyams tendency to manipulate.

"You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you? Letting your friend arrange this for you", Neteyam chuckles and Ao’nung realizes just now, how much you’re squirming on his lap. "Why don’t you show me just how sweet your are, hm sevin?"

He’s only playing a role, Ao’nung has to remind himself. As much as he prayed for it to become reality, you weren’t his. He was just your friend. But if being a good friend meant to participate in whatever this was, so be it. At least he could be here for you, take care of you even when you were in another man’s arms.

It was comforting, in a way. Comforting like rays of sun soaking into his skin, so much so, that he‘ll forget what damage they can do if he stays to long under her comfortable shine. He‘ll burn, sooner or later, feel the pain when it’s already too late. But it feels good now, so he tries to stop worrying about everything else.

The feeling of your slick rubbing against his thighs reached a point where it was impossible for him to ignore, even though it hurt to know he wasn’t the main reason for this.

His gaze never leaves its target sitting across from him, not even as he dips his hands below the waters surface and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. The surprised little squeak you emit was kind of cute, he thought, as he lifted you out of the hot spring.

Your soft hands cling to him as Ao’nung makes himself comfortable, sitting down onto the flat rocks that enclose the pool of water, while he holds yourself up and open for Neteyam to see. Your legs are spread as far as they can go, and said omatikaya can be seen swallowing the salvia that pools in his mouth at the sight.

You were a piece of art; gorgeous, pretty and wet, droplets of water running down your curves, mixing with arousal that ran down your thighs. But you were also pretentious, greedy, and entirely spoiled and that was entirely his fault. And he knew how to play that card all too well.

Ao’nung nuzzled his nose against your cheek, up to your ear where he whispered, "You want him? Then show him", before licking the shell of your ear, making you shudder in his hold.

Even he felt the flush of dark embarrassment tickle up your spine, before you wriggled a hand free and lowered it between your spread thighs. A fingertip slid between your folds, teasing your slippery entrance with a quiet whimper.

"Don’t be shy", Ao’nung murmured, nipping on your throat. "C‘mon, tsawke. Be a good girl and put a finger in."

Nodding, you pressed your index finger against your slippery entrance, slowly pushing in to the last knuckle. Then, you wriggle a second finger in beside the first one, and start to ease them out together, then back in; a slow, slick push.

The moans that tumble from your parted lips are like the sweetest most familiar melody to him. To Neteyam, they are the reason one of his hands has disappeared below the surface, casting ripples in the water.

You curve your finger a little more and pick up the pace, thrusting them faster. The squelching sounds they coax out from between your thighs filled his ears, growing louder by the second. It was only overturned by the sound of his own ragged breathing, his heart thumping against his chest in the same rhythm his cock throbbed heavily, yearning for friction, for your hands to touch him, your tight cunt to wrap around his length and swallow him whole.

"Just like that, you’re doing so good", Ao’nung coos softly against the shell of your ear, "Look how much he’s enjoying the show. See what you do to him?" He tips his chin up and your eyes flutter open to get a glance of Neteyam. His ears are pinned back, eyes half lidded, with lips slightly parted and chest heaving as he strokes himself under the water. Ao’nung has to swallow back his own pride in order to play this role, yet he enjoys being the one that can touch you so freely while all Neteyam can do is watch as it happens. "He wants to touch you so bad", he chuckles lowly into your ear and your body decides to respond for you, hips canting forward to push your own fingers in deeper. "I bet he wants to know what you feel like, warm and wet around him. How tight you are. Fuck, if only he knew how good it feels whenever you come around my cock, the way you squeeze me. See his eyes? He’s hungry for you, tsawke. He wants to know how you taste like, too."

A helpless little whimper escapes you from his words and Ao’nung grins, the tip of his fangs sparking with mischief. "Should we make him watch, hm? Or do you want to invite him?"

"Nung", you mewl, plead with your eyes as you glance over your shoulder to meet his.

"I won’t do it for you", he whispers, tilting his head towards the other man with a sigh, "Use your words if you want him."

Your eyes follow his line of sight. Neteyam groans, then closes his eyes for a brief second and throws his head back in bliss, before he looks back at you with a dirty smile.

"What is it, hm?", Neteyam asks, "What do you want, paskalin?"

Your toes curl at the sound of his voice, raspy and laced with a certain type of hunger that could only be satisfied by one thing alone. And that thing is you. Breath hitching, you make a whiny little noise that almost sounds like a plea for the forest boy’s name, but that seems to be all you manage.

"Can’t get the words out, huh?", he chuckles, "That’s okay. Fuck, just look at that pretty pussy, doing all the talking for you. Look how she’s dripping, so eager to be filled, but your hands aren’t enough, are they? You need my help, pretty girl?"

Ao’nungs own fingers itch to help you out, to show him just how perfectly he can fill you with them. That there’s no need for this demons spawn here, that he’s the only one you need to satisfy you.

You seem to think otherwise, because you’re nodding quick and desperate, and Neteyam groans at the sight of your clenching hole once you had pulled your fingers out. A wordless inventions for him to take their place. So Ao’nung continues to hold your legs open wide as Neteyam pushes himself off the rocks and approaches slowly, gracefully walking through the waist deep water to stand before you.

With the way Ao’nung had hoisted you up and held you spread open as he sat on the flat rocks surrounding the hot spring, Neteyam didn’t even had to kneel or crouch to be eye level with what he craved most and the realization made him lick his lips in anticipation.

His hands find the soft of your thighs, caressing your skin before he placed soft kisses here and there, making you shiver in Ao’nungs hold. With his eyes entirely fixed on yours, Neteyam then runs the tip of his tongue through your wet folds and groans at the taste.

"Eywa, woman", he curses under his breath, then attaches his lips to where your slick oozes out in a clear, honey-like stream. "You’re so sweet, paskalin", it’s muffled against your cunt, before he withdraws and glances up at Ao’nung. "Does she always get this wet?"

You let out an impatient whimper and Ao’nung places a soothing kiss to your shoulder.

"For me?", he chuckles, the sound low and dangerous and he feels the goosebumps rise on your body. "Every single time, yes."

Neteyam grins. "Must be my lucky day then. Look how she’s dripping for me."

He takes his sweet time returning to you then, kissing and stroking everywhere but where you need him, but when he finally does, you gasp and moan as he nibbles at your clit, arches when he cups your ass and, with the soft sucking noises he makes, it felt he was drinking you in.

You moaned again, breathlessly, bonelessly, and your back arched away from Ao’nungs chest, or at least you tried to. Feeling so good, so stupidly happy, Neteyam then ran his tongue up and down your slit again and your moans turned into a wail.

He returned to lick and suck at your clit, alternating with a smooth up-and-down stroke with two of his fingers, teasing and circling your clit, then gently prodding them at your entrance.

"Mnnh– Fuck, ah, please, please", you whimpered breathlessly, hips bucking helplessly to get his fingers to slip inside, your head falling fully back against Ao’nungs chest. "Neteyam, p-please!"

But Neteyam only sped up, his tongue wet and rough and steady against your clit, groaning into you at the sound of his name from your lips, and pressing his face against your pussy like you actually taste of nectar or honey or any of those tooth rotting sweet fruit the Sullys enjoyed to eat.

Meanwhile, Ao’nung placed several open mouthed kisses from your throat to your jaw, enough of an hint to make you turn your head and claim your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. It was wet and filthy, just tongues and teeth as he devoured you, as Neteyam devoured your other set of lips.

You were moaning into the kiss, wanton and desperate, before finally, a set of fingers were pushed past your entrance and curled just right, while Neteyam kissed and sucked on your clit so passionately, Ao’nung felt the way your whole body tensed.

And then, then you were coming, bucking, crying out weakly even though it seemed you had no breath left in you. Shuddering and shuddering all through your body, shuddering between two hot bodies who worshipped you, who were holding you, staring at you like prey- beautiful, delicious prey, both of them so very hungry for you.

"Good girl", was murmured lowly into your ear, "Keep coming for us, c’mon let it all out. Let him taste how delicious you are."

Neteyams tongue continued to lap at your flowing arousal, groaning against your folds between filthy slurping noises. "Hmm, fuck. Is that all for me? So good, paskalin, you taste so good."

You kept your eyes closed and let the little tremors and aftershocks go through you, just breathing in tiny happy hums, because, eywa bless them to whatever heaven existed, they were both still touching you, gently and slowly. Neteyam kissing you softly, Ao’nung nuzzling his face into the crock of your neck, sucking on your throat, until eventually your breathing slowed, and you swallowed, opening your eyes.

Immediately, you were met with two golden eyes, looking up at you from between your thighs.

"Neteyam", you pant, "m-more. I want more. Please."

"Oh, do you?", he chuckles as he rises to stand on his full height, towering over you. "You’re such a cute little thing, so needy." He tips your chin up with a finger, then tilts his head as he grins down at you. "Think you can take both of us?"

There’s the sound of an audible gulp and neither Neteyam nor Ao‘nung himself can stifle a chuckle at this. You squirm in his arms for that one, grinding down against his cock that’s been trapped between his stomach and your lower back, making him grunt.

"I‘ll take that as a yes", Neteyam smiles wickedly, exchanging a look with Ao‘nung. He then stepped just a little closer, truly sandwiching you between them both before he hooked an arm under your thigh so Ao’nung could trace his hand down your spine and dip it down lower. Goosebumps run up your neck as his hand kneads one of your ass cheeks and then slides between them. Ao’nung expertly locates your dripping entrance from behind, fingers swirling in your arousal, dipping inside for good measure and he hums lowly at the sound of your weak little moans.

You’re always wet, always wet for him, beautiful and perfect, eywa, the way you just fit, it's like you plug into everything, everything that makes him high, incoherent, hard.

"You want this?", Ao’nung whispers into your ear, his tongue teasing your lobe. You clench around his fingers and give him a quick, desperate nod, so eager to be filled. He grins at that. His fingers retreat, covered in arousal he lets them glide between your cheeks to feel for your puckered hole.

"You want me in here, hm?"

Your whiny whimper of "Yes, please!" is completely satisfying to his ears. Your lack of surprise makes Neteyam realize you’ve done this before, and that mental image is a delicious one. One finger then eases into your tight hole slowly, fluidly. Neteyam watches with hungry, half lidded eyes as Ao’nung spreads you open on one and then two of his thick fingers, watches how expertly you take him in as he spreads your legs a little further to give the other man more space to work with. More slick is running down your pretty cunt, like a silent plea for him to fill it.

It's not long, though, before you’re squirming, the position you’re in making it impossible to push back against his fingers but they both know you’re trying to. It’s also not long until your moans turn louder, back arching, and you make a sound of protest when Ao’nung finally pulls his fingers out and deems you as loose enough. His cock is so painfully hard, leaking more pre-cum than he thought was even possible. He had to get inside you now, had to have you because in the back of his mind there still lingered this thought that after this, it could’ve been the last time he would get to feel you, to hold you, to fuck you, ever again.

So he wraps an arm around you, the other hand securing your thigh, while both of Neteyams hands hold onto the underside of your knees to spread your legs for them.

"Together then", Neteyam grins and Ao’nung can’t help but glare at him over your shoulder. Not even this situation could change anything about the grudge he’s holding against that forest boy.

A quick glance down your front reveals the sight of Neteyam pushing the length of his cock between your slippery folds, lubing himself with your slick.

The tremor that passes through your body seems more intense than usual, once you feel Ao’nung get into position too.

"Breathe, tsawke", he says, the tip of his cock nudging against your backside. You nod, inhale, exhale, and then they both push into you slowly, spreading you apart. Another whimper tumbles from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut and Ao’nung places a tender kiss to your temple as he slides further in.

"Good girl, just relax for me", he coos, "you’re doing so good."

For a moment it's too much, you’re way too tight and he thinks your body just can't reach that far, but then Neteyam seems to be fully inside while he slowly pushes deeper with minimal resistance. Neteyam groans, his grip on your legs tightening as he feels Ao‘nung move into place alongside him. You’re stretching around them both like you were made for this, and then Ao’nung glances at the space between your legs where you’re all joined, and there isn't a slither of space.

"Fuuck, look at that", the forest boy pants, smiling almost proudly. He gives the first languid thrust that makes you mewl. "That feel good, hm? You like being stuffed full of us, don’t you sevin?"

A whiny "Y-Yes", comes as a response, followed by a string of incoherent pleas for them to finally move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, paskalin", Ao’nung says, granting your wishes with slow thrusts, making you feel every inch of him as he slides himself into you. Better adjusted now, your body welcomes him with every snap of his hips. Neteyam sets up a quicker rhythm, pistoning in and out of your body roughly, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot at just the right angle.

You flex your inner walls, squeezing his cock, until you feel him throb inside you with the change, moaning, and his gaze entirely fixed on where you are joined.

"Eywa, that little pussy is gripping me so tight. No wonder you kept her all to yourself. I wouldn’t share her with anyone, not even if she begged me to."

Their eyes meet for a second and Ao’nung’s breath is hot on your neck as he whispers, "you’re mine, aren’t you? He’s just lucky I can’t deny you any of your filthy wishes." Reaching to cup one of your breasts in his hands, he tweaks a nipple and earns a dirty little moan in response, your soft, velvety-like walls pulsating around their cocks.

"Oh f-fuck, make her do that again!"

Ao’nung was rubbing your nipples more roughly now, and your voice goes hoarse when Neteyam simultaneously thumbs at your throbbing clit. "Yeah, good girl", he praises you, thrusting into you faster, "so good, sevin. Shit, you feel so fucking good around me."

You’re close, Ao’nung can tell by the way you’re writhing, by the way your breath hitches when the tip of Neteyams cock brushes against your cervix, by the way your face twists with ecstasy when he fucks you harder, deeper.

He removes his hand from your nipple and slips it between your bodies, fingertips fighting for their place to rub against that swollen bundle of nerves alongside Neteyams, until your whole body is arching and your jaw drops.

"Nung", you moan like a prayer, "you’re– so big. M‘so full, gonna come!" It’s like you’re trying to finish him just with your words, and fuck, you might manage it if you carry on. His head falls to your shoulder and he presses his lips against your skin, then up your neck until your mouths are crushed together, a desperate thrashing of tongues and lips.

Words were entirely washed out of your system, your mind completely overtaken by the fullness of two cock sliding in and in and then all the way out just to slip back in, harder, tight body gripping and squeezing them.

It was all heat and pleasure. All those sensations, thoughts and emotions. Everything so close, but you just couldn’t reach it. Not yet. You felt like a puppet on a string, waiting for any of them to pull the right thread and help you to your release.

You’re right on the edge, right there.

The moment he breaks the kiss, Neteyam catches your lips in another, his tongue swirling around yours and a bitter part of Ao’nung hopes you still taste like him. If that is the case, Neteyam doesn’t seem to mind. His hips continue to snap hard against yours as he exchanges moans and spit through the kiss. It’s a filthy rhythm the both of them had set, various body fluids smearing between three tangled bodies.

Every time one thrusts in they brush over your pleasure spot, leaving you sobbing and writhing on their cocks, clutching on their arms so hard it hurts, chanting their names in between moans, hardly able to catch your breath.

"Let go, c‘mon I know you need it so bad", Ao’nung groans lowly into your ear, thrusting in just as the other man pulls out, which leaves you in a constant state of fullness, never empty for even a second. "Be a good girl and come for us."

It's a buildup of tension that arches your back and curls your toes and just when you think you can't take it anymore, something snaps. Your entire body tightens as you cry out their names, nails sinking so deep he’d be surprised if they haven’t drawn blood.

"There it is, pretty girl. Great mother, look at you creaming around my cock, gonna make me cum too", Neteyam groans, throwing his head back in bliss. He was thrusting into you so hard now, it knocked the very air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath.

The little breath left in you was then stolen by a deep kiss, Ao’nung sucking on your tongue as he continued to pound into you, unable to think of anything else besides the way your walls tighten around his throbbing cock.

"Gonna cum inside you", he groans into the kiss, "Can’t hold back, I just need to fill you up, gonna fuck my cum into you and— hngh– shit!" He plunges into you, one, two, three more times and then comes with a grunt of your name.

Your legs were already shaking with the aftershocks of your own orgasms, twitching from overstimulation while Neteyam gave one last thrust, hips pausing, and then you felt it flowing— hot shots of cum pumped into you, filling you up nice and warm as he lost himself inside you with a low moan.

Ao‘nung wasn’t entirely sure if you could even hear him at this point, but he still kept the reassurance up anyway as they both gently lowered you back into the hot spring.

"Can't say that was a bad time, fish lips," Neteyam grinned, glancing at your relaxed face resting against Ao’nungs shoulder. Your eyes had fluttered closed a few minutes ago, as the metkayina man was carefully cleaning the sweat and other body fluids from your skin, holding you tight against his chest.

"Don't get used to it." Ao’nung warns in a hushed whisper, "I doubt I'll share her again."

"Wouldn't expect it. Worried I'll steal her away?"

"No. But I keep close tabs on what's mine," he counters, blue eyes cold as he watches the other man rearrange his loincloth.

Neteyams grin widens at this, and he shoots him a playful wink, "We‘ll see about that", before he leaves off to the village.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Ao‘nungs hammock might as well be carved from stone.

He hadn’t been able to get much, if not any sleep at all these past couple of days. Shifting restlessly, he’s forcing his eyes to close once more every time they inevitably drift open, but it’s not working. So he’s staring at the ceiling of his marui, at the woven walls, and out into the dark blue sky. It only makes his frustration worse. Days have gone by and now half the night has already passed, by the time he finally comes to terms with the fact that jealousy truly is an ugly emotion. But it somehow always reveals the truth. And it’s not like he didn’t already know the truth before. No, he knew.

He could joke about it all he wanted, whenever Tsireya made her teasing little comments about it. Could laugh it off and roll his eyes at his younger sister, tell her she’s just imagining things and that this is all just a means to get another man jealous. He’s just being a good friend. He turned these comments into jokes, because he‘s afraid to take anything seriously. Because if he takes things seriously, they matter. But it does matter. It matters so much, that it hurts now. Truth is, Ao’nung held his love for you so horrible discreet, that it was as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound. And now he was bleeding out. Painful and slow and irreversible.

Sharing you was a bad idea. Probably the worst he’s ever had, there was no doubt in it.

Ao‘nung tosses and turns in his hammock, unable to rest for any moment longer as his thoughts dared to consume him whole. Willing his body to get up before the sun was even beginning to rise, he found solace in the rhythmic crashing of waves down at the beach.

Ao’nung wishes that he could just have some kind of treatment to fix this problem. If only the tsahìk could cut his chest open and take his heart out to make it stop. Maybe eywa would bless him with a new one, one that wasn’t stained and stabbed and torn apart. Maybe it would take away the sick, knife-twisting pain he felt in his chest whenever he did as much as look at you. But in its own way, it was a good kind of pain. Like a constant reminder of just how much he was in love with you. How good it felt to love you. It was good, except for how it made him feel sick whenever you laced your fingers up together and squeezed his hand as though Ao’nung was something precious, something to be loved, and once again he catches himself wishing that you might ever look at him in the ways that Ao’nung looks at you.

It pisses him off to be reminded that he's supposed to be good at keeping his head, at keeping his distance, at not letting his lies consume him, the way that they're doing now. The way that they've done since this whole thing started. That this is all just a game of play pretend and you’re not really his.

Besides everything else he's doing that's completely unhelpful to this dilemma, Ao’nung’s overlooking one crucial detail: how can he stop pretending, when this is probably the closest he'll ever get to actually being yours, to you being his? How can he stop pretending when he's already made you this stupid, shiny little bracelet, because it would scandalize Neteyam in the entire, to think that Ao’nung and you are so into each other that you’re trading what could be mistaken as a courting gifts. And because it's the closest thing that Ao’nung will ever get to actually giving you a courting gift. He just has to take what little gifts he can from the world, right? So he can’t end it. He can’t end this arrangement. Not yet.

"Become my mate."

A simple statement. A straightforward question with a straightforward answer. But he would never actually ask that, would never receive an answer to this that wouldn’t hurt him, so he might as well continue to live in this perfect world that he lets himself envision.

Ao’nung turns the bracelet in his hands, thumb swiping over the carefully polished pearls. One of them sort of looks like the color of your eyes, as much as a simple blue pearl can emulate the deep ocean blue of yours and the way they sparkle when you look at him. The whole thing doesn't really capture your essence, it just made him think about you, and that's why he picked it out. He would give it to you today, he thought. He knows you would wear it for him, and maybe the thought of you wearing this for him, wearing something that would always mark you as his would make it enough for a little while longer. Maybe one day he would get his ass up and just ask you, would ruin your friendship just for the teeny tiny chance of you not turning his offer down. Maybe you would be his, one day. Truly his.

It’s when the first rays of sun begin to shine over the ocean, that he’s greeted by the sight of his own, personal warm solace. Sometimes that shines brighter and warmer than the sun herself. His ears perk up at the sound of you calling his name, waving your arms at him and a smile tugs on his lips. Always up early, he thinks, rising to his feet.

"It worked!" You squeak happily, jumping into his arms and Ao’nung continues to smile at you, albeit a little confused. You break away from the hug first, jumping excitedly and pointing to a piece of jewelry dangling from your wrist. He stares at it blankly, each breath making his lungs feel like they were filled to the brim with shards of glass.

His palm closed tightly around the bracelet in his own hand, tight enough he could feel the little shells cutting into his palm.

He knew this would eventually happen.

He could feel it in the back of his mind, lingering like a muscle he's held tensed so long that he can no longer remember what it felt like to be otherwise.

What Ao’nung didn't expect was, that it would be this soon. He really thought he still had time. More time. More time with you, before he would loose you to another man. Time to change his fate, time to–

"It worked! Neteyam courted for me, look!"

Ao’nung felt something in him shatter, breaking to the point of no repair. Breaking so violently that he wondered if it was possible for no one to have heard it. He felt it burn his skin, his eyes, the inside of his chest. Felt it burn like the sun burns, like it would burn if he tried to touch it. Ao’nung felt himself melt away and burn, and that’s when he reminds himself of the reason for the nickname he had chosen for you.

Tsawke. Because you are his sun.

And nothing feels as good and hurts as much as loving the sun. Because as well as she can make you feel good, as fast she can burn you.

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

Text

meeting him at the pub

(cw: age gap)

I don’t know how it happened, how I ended up chatting to the tall metalhead at the pub. But I was meeting my friends there like every other Wednesday and when I got drinks from the bar, a dark, friendly voice piped up. “Hey, nice shirt.” My head whips to the side, looking for the person who gave me the compliment.

Right there at the table, sitting alone, a huge, tall guy with long dark hair. Tattoos adorned the big strong arms distracting from his bandshirt, I think it’s from Dark Tranquility. The drawings span to his hands ending at the knuckles, that moved as he grabbed the bottle of beer standing right in front of him.

My eyes close in on his face, a ruggedly handsome one. A nose that seems to have been broken at least twice. Lips formed into a friendly smile. Serious eyes looking straight at me, eyes that had seen some shit, but the laugh lines around them speak of a man who rather likes to laugh. He also looks a bit older than me.

I almost stumble over my own feet, halting for a moment to look which shirt I’m wearing today. It’s my Death shirt, the one with the Symbolic Album art. I look back up at him, smiling. “Thanks!” I continue my trip to the bar, a pep in my step.

When I walk back with the drinks in my hand, I shoot another friendly look in his direction. One that he answers with a nod and tipping his beer in my direction. And I totally blush at the little friendly gesture. I sit down with my friends handing them their beers, but I can’t help my eyes finding their way back to him every so often, to see what he’s doing.

He’s just chilling alone, at his table, drinking his beer, looking at the TV where some kind of soccer game was being shown, playing with his phone from time to time. It is so fucking tiny in his huge ass hands. And half the time I look in his direction, his gaze is already on me. Which is making me nervous. Not because it’s creepy or anything in that sense, but because he’s attractive. Oh my, ruggedly handsome, seeming like a gentle giant, while the way he’s sitting and observing everything around him is telling a different story.

“Just go fucking talk to him.” My friend sitting to my right grins at me. I shrug. “I don’t know.” They roll their eyes. “Just do it, you little chickenshit.” I throw up my hands. “Fine, fine, okay.” I snatch up my beer and hesitatingly make my way to his table.

He’s already looking at me, sitting up straight, as I approach him and ask with a shy smile on my face: “Can I sit here?” I point at the stool across from him. He seems a bit surprised, but he nods. “Sure, take a seat.”

I sit down and then a moment of silence falls over us where we just look at each other. The corner of his mouth is tilted up, a half-smirk making his face even more handsome, a few strands of hair falling over his left eye and cheek. He seems a little bit tense and I suddenly feel a little bit self-conscious. We just look at each other. And I can’t stop looking at him.

“So, you like Death too, huh?”, I ask him, and then I hear how that sounded. “The band, I mean.”, I clarify laughing. He joins in, a dark manly chuckle falling from his lips, and I can see his shoulders drop down a bit. Seeming a little more relaxed.

“I do.”, he answers. “Actually, one of my favourite bands.” His voice is a bit higher than I would have anticipated from such a big guy, he has a nice timbre and some kind of accent when speaking English, that he’s trying to mask.

“Understandably so.”, I say, going on a rant about my favourite bands. He just looks at me, stunlocked. His mouth slightly open. His eyes scanning my face, dropping down every so often. I don’t stop talking and he listens, nodding along.

“I also like Lorna Shore a lot, do you know them?”, I want to know. He shakes his head, still intently listening while only speaking every so often. “They’re a symphonic deathcore band, and my god, their music just blows you away.” He chuckles again. “And they’re in town next week, but I don’t have anybody to go to the concert with me.”, I say, turning down the corners of my mouth.

“I could accompany you.”, he chimes in which shuts me up. A friendly offer. But the way he’s looking at me is making it feel like so much more.

“Really? You would do that?”, I ask surprised.

He shrugs one of his shoulders, looking to his fingers that fiddle with the label on the beer bottle. “Yeah sure, I can be your company for that evening.”

I close my mouth and think about it for a moment. “Of course, that would be… very nice of you.” Great, I’m so eloquent when it comes to flirting with men. Especially older, tall metalheads. But the way he’s still fidgeting with the beer bottle, I think he’s having a hard time as well. Which makes his offer so much more surprising. But I’m not mad at it. Not at fucking all.

I clear my throat. “Maybe I can get the tickets and you can get the drinks?”, I suggest. I wouldn’t want this to seem like I wanted to mooch off him.

He hesitates for a bit, but then nods. “Sure.” I nod as well and drink some of my beer. So that’s that, huh?

“So, what do you do? For a living?”, I ask him. He halts for a second, and I add: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, of course.” I tilt my head and push my cheek into my propped-up hand.

A smile forms on his lips, as he looks to the side for just a moment, but his eyes find their way back to me. “You’re a nosy one, huh?” which makes me hide my face in my hands looking at him through my splayed fingers, but he only laughs at my gesture.

“I’m actually a soldier, a mercenary. I’m currently on leave.”, he explains. My eyes widen at his words.

“Really? Damn okay.” That explains the aura around him that I couldn't pinpoint before. “So like, what’s your specialty or however this is called in the military?”, I ask, still being nosy.

His lips curl into a confident smile, his whole demeanor changing a bit. “I’m an insertion specialist.” And the way he says that makes my skin tingle, my jaw dropping down a bit. Because the tone in his voice makes me think about a certain kind of insertion. The ‘drop your clothes, get naked together’-kind.

He laughs again as he sees the expression on my face. “Get your mind out the gutter.”, he jokes.

“Huh, I didn’t say anything.”, I defend myself, weakly, holding up my hands in defense. He pulls up his eyebrows, donning a knowing smile and leaning back.

“M-hm.”, he says and his fingers wander to his lips, stroking over them absent-mindedly. “I specialize in breaking down doors and getting people out of whatever situation they’re caught in.” How he says it makes me smile, because he says it so non-chalantly, but I can see the pride behind his words.

A little silence falls over us again, but instead of being uncomfortable we just sit in it and look at each other. He drags his hand through his hair, his fingers threading through the brown strands. And I’m so normal about this. My god, why does he have to be so attractive?

“How old are you?”, he asks me, his eyes searching my face like I’d have it written on there. The first question he asked me this evening.

“I’m 25. And you?”, I return the question. He winces a bit, but he answers: “I’m 41.” I nod and sip on my beer. Well, I already assumed that he’s older than me, so I’m not really surprised by the age gap.

“I’m old enough to be your dad.”, he says and takes a sip from his beer. My eyes are glued to his lips, the way the bottle rests against them. Then he swallows and I follow the motion as the liquid flows down his throat.

I arch a brow. “No, you’re not.”

He tilts his head to his side, a little smile forming on his lips. “Well, maybe if I started early, I could be.” His eyes dart to me, for just a moment.

The other brow joins the one already sitting at my hairline. “Did you start early?”, I ask him.

His smile gets wider while he slowly shakes his head. “No.” He takes another sip and leans back a bit.

“So, not actually old enough to be my dad.”, I conclude the conversation, a grin turning up the corners of my mouth. “I’m gonna get another drink, you want one as well?”

He looks at me, his eyes boring into me. I see the little twinkle in them, but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I got to get home.”, he finally says, the expression on his face turning apologetic.

I hide my disappointment behind a charming smile. “Okay, no worries.”, I tell him.

He leans forward, coming a little bit closer, and I stand my ground, even as his scent hits my nostrils, and I have to damp down the excitement flooding my veins. He’s smirking at me now and raises his hand until his finger makes contact with my nose. He just booped my nose. “Tell you what though. Let’s exchange numbers and then we’ll see if you’re still up to going to a concert with me when you’re sober.”

I laugh a bit and pull out my phone from my pocket. “Okay, deal.” But his words also make me think. “Don’t you trust my judgement?”, I ask him as I hand him the device which looks ridiculously small in his hands.

He grins while tapping on the screen. “I do, but I don’t trust myself when I stare into the face of a beautiful woman.” He looks at me again and hands me back the phone, getting up. And he gets taller and taller and taller. I mean, I saw that he’s freaking huge when he was sitting down. But my god, he’s more than a foot taller than me. I have to put my head back to be able to look up at him.

“A beautiful woman, huh?”, I repeat his words back to him, ignoring the way this sentiment makes me feel.

“Aye.”, he says leaning down a bit. “Good night then.” He presses a small, almost chaste kiss onto the top of my head, while at the same time grabbing his leatherjacket. He puts the worn piece of clothing on and heads in the direction of the door.

I look down and see the new contact in my phone. His number, but instead of his name the little crown emoji sits on the top of the page. “Wait, what’s your name?”, I yell after him.

He turns around again, the long hair whipping over his shoulder, grazing over the worn leather. A grin lights up his face. “König, you know, like ‘king’ in German.”, he explains. He raises his hand again and waves goodbye, then he’s out the door.

He’s gone, but he’s still on my mind the rest of the evening while spending time at the pub, on my way home, as I’m getting ready to finally sleep. Especially the little forehead kiss lives in my mind rent-free.

When I wake up again in the morning, I contemplate what to do while I get myself a coffee. Finally, I gather my courage and shoot him a text.

metalhead!König has me in a chokehold, so this was veeeery self-indulgent. i hope you still like it <3more to come soon, because i can't wait to go to a concert with him :')

part 2 or more stuff in the Masterlist

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #she likes the dark #tw: age gap

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marlynnofmany · 1 month

Text

Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr #very excited about the Patreon you guys #that free tier didn't use to be an option #but for anyone who'd like to catch the new story each time one goes up #that's the place to go #the higher tiers have additional cool things #more details to come

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Note

I saw that you need ideas, so how about a yandere from the Neons? I mean, I would like to see more content from them since they represent the elements in Honkai star rail, by the way, sorry if you don't understand, my English is bad... I leave you a little drawing of a masculine makima (it has nothing to do with it, but as a gift ) xd Also, I don't know if I'm the only one, but Nanook makes me handsome >///<

(Sorry, I had already finished it but the work was stained hahaha and I did it again)

Yus the Aeons are so cool looking!! You really feel like they’re actual gods of the universe, especially since you don’t see them first hand (at least for now). Also Masculine Makima reminds me of Karma Akabane lol. I’ll draw it in my style, and add it here as an extra for you ♥️

Hb we mash those two topics up together actually?

warnings: mild yandere themes. mild spoilers for csm. major canon divergence. reader takes the shape of a masc/amab character but it isnt their original form.

status: unedited. updated art.

YANDERE! AEONS + VARIOUS! HSR x AEON OF FEAR/CONTROL! READER

You have no memory of your conception, only that you started existing for what felt like an eternity.

You represented fear and despair, but unlike IX whose mere presence drove humanity into insanity, or the rest of your fellow aeon’s godlike status amongst the world,

you walked around as a normal, ordinary human being.

As normal as an Aeon can get anyways.

In your current lifetime, you took the shape of Himeko’s “brother”, planting fake memories into her mind and being the one that urged her to travel the stars. While she was the navigator, you took the role of conductor before creating Pompom to supplant you.

Welt always knew you weren’t just a regular person. Your eyes always felt distant, so far off that not even a century’s worth of trail blazing would allow him to come close. As such he mostly kept cordial relations with you.

The youngsters of the bunch on the other hand, never seemed to realize the sheer magnanimity of the danger you held and always hung around you.

Particularly that Caelus. The newest addition to the crew. The stellaron within him always pulsed in some sort of giddiness and excitement whenever you were around. The boy couldn’t help but be a nervous wreck when he was around you. Stuttering and stumbling was a common occurrence whenever you so decide as to just breathe at his direction.

You knew what those Stellarons are, their nature, their purpose, the way they were created. In fact if you wanted to, you could have taken the Astral Express straight to the source of it all, your partner: Nanook.

However that would have ruined the fun of it all. So you chose to let them have their little adventures before the final confrontation.

Also because you signed a contract to not meddle with Nanook’s business in exchange for your freedom. But that was another story to tell.

“Why . . . why do you continue this farce? This utterly worthless play?”

IX’s voice rang within your ears and no one else’s. You were the only being it ever gave the time of day to. You imagine it to be the reason why insanity slowly built itself within the recesses of your head.

“You may see the entire universe as worthless . . . but I,” You breath hitched. You looked around your room. Time was frozen. Everything turned grey. You weren’t afraid of the others in the express hearing you, just that the following words you were about to spout out felt like bile on your mouth. “I suppose I’m still a bit like them in a way. I wish to see the world without its evils.”

“And destroying them. That is my first step.” You summon an orb of golden light. Stellarons. The creation of the very thing that made you loath all evil. Including yourself. You will eradicate these and then Nanook yourself. One day.

“Is that why you send those hunters out?”

“Perhaps.” The orb within your hands get covered in chains, quickly getting crushed within the metal like substance as it soon disappeared.

“Do as you wish. Just do not bother me like that imbecile.”

“I promise. I will be much worse than Yaoshi.”

IX remained silent for several seconds, no doubt regretting its decision of associating with you before adding, “. . . And do not die.”

“That one I cannot guarantee.”

Your room’s color returns, time continues. Signaling the end of two Aeons’ encounter.

Nanook, the Aeon that threatened to eradicate all that you love. All so they could have your soul once more. Within your gilded cage. Within your original body that lied dormant.

The Destruction will no longer be a path. That is a guarantee you write upon the stars when your Trail Blazing lifetime eventually comes to a close.

The stage is set, your actors ready.

All you needed was the cue.

Your gloved hand arose, pointing towards the express’s windows in the shape of a gun.

“Bang.”

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littlemoondarlingarts · 2 months

Text

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #rouge #original characters #oc artist #oc artwork #oc art #lineart illustration #artsyle study #art style study #art study #idk how to tag this #anyway #hii #ty for reading #i hope you like it

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jeremywhitley · 1 year

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Here we are, six weeks later...

HEY!

So, in case you haven’t heard, our six week run on Love Unlimited following Gwenpool wrapped up today and...

and as much as I did write all of this and it is extremely important to me, I feel I really need to make sure you all know that this didn’t start with me.

To be completely accurate, it started with Chris Hastings and crew for creating such an amazing and nuanced character out of what could have only ever been a high concept and a cover gag. Not that the cover gag wasn’t good, but the statue that is revealed from that piece of marble over the course of The Unbelievable Gwenpool is truly astonishing.

Then, of course, there’s you. An audience of fans with an incredible love and passion for a character who also saw a lot of the quirks and experiences that we as people on the asexual spectrum experience and talked about it online.

Which is where the incredible @alannawrites, my editor, comes in. Alanna had been looking for an opportunity to tell a story about being ace in Marvel comics. We had kind of skimmed around the edges during Unstoppable Wasp, but ultimately being a character who owed so much to a movie franchise, there were a lot of nerves there. Gwen was not only a great opportunity to tell a story of a person hyper aware that they are in a story struggling with the tropes that affect their actual life, it was a chance to bring about this story for a character a lot of the fandom already saw as ace. Obviously, not everybody, but still a lot.

So when editorial game to okay to tell this story, Alanna reached out to me - somebody she’d worked with but also specifically had just had their own little coming out as demisexual a little while back. I was thrilled by the idea and before long we brought on @bailiesartblog and Kelly and had a full creative team of people on the ace spectrum. This is easily the first time that’s ever been a thought.

For me it was important that it not just be a story of coming out, but that it be a Gwenpool story. A story of knowing how stories work, what tropes you can play with, trying to direct the story where you think it should go, and ultimately finding that the story just won’t comply. And for people who have experienced being on the ace spectrum or a lot of other marginalized genders and sexualities - that’s a very familiar problem.

Ultimately, it’s different from a lot of other Gwenpool stories because it’s not the world around her. She has 2-3 real working possibilities for romantic relationships in this story and one that is about to become a fully adult sexual relationship with a woman whom she really loves before it skips the tracks. Ultimately, it’s not a thing from the 616 that’s holding her back, it’s a thing she brought with her from the real world - her sexuality - and no matter how worthy you are, you can’t beat that with a hammer.

There’ll be lots of time to talk about this later, but along with her actually saying the words and waving the flags above, one of the sequences that’s most important to me is the opening sequence of issue 6

This is the problem sometimes with being story tellers. When you think you know the story, realizing you’re not who you thought you are can feel like maybe you’re a villain. Maybe you’re a monster. Maybe you don’t belong here.

Some people on the internet seem to have decided to misinterpret this sequence as us comparing being asexual to being a monster, when very clearly that’s Gwen doing it. I’m just going to assume they’ve never had the experience of struggling to understand themselves and where they fit. Sounds fake, but whatever.

I love this FF story. I love Ben Grimm. I love this cover and that was why I gave my art team the truly unenviable task of recreating it. Like, I don’t know if you’ve been there, but I certainly have and I��d wager that most of us have at some point.

But perhaps the most important image in this scene is the next one:

Julie sees her friend, her girlfriend, the person that she cares about spiraling and literally yoinks her right out of the frame.

And sits her down and talks to her about it. And listens to her about it. And when she starts asking questions that Julie can’t answer, she finds Gwen somebody who can.

And that is an incredible gift to give to someone. And yeah, maybe we should all do that for each other, but man is it hard. Julie for one is in a multi-month relationship with this girl that just told her that not only was she lying about being ready to have sex with her, but that she didn’t actually like kissing her and has been faking enjoying some aspects of their relationship. You wanna think you would still be there for this person, but that’s a lot to handle and it takes a lot to be the person Julie is in this moment. But, personally, I love Julie Power and I think she’s the kinda person to stick with it.

And ultimately I think this scene is so important to me because I hope this book is our opportunity to be Julie Power to somebody reading this story. I hope someone who is going through a hard time or struggling with how to define themselves will find this story and it can be the hands that pull them out of the cover of Fantastic Four 51 when they need it. Maybe that’s a lot to hope for a comic, but it’s really the ambition I think the team went into this comic with. We want to tell a story about an aroace character coming to terms with who they are and learning to accept and be comfortable with it, but ultimately we hope this story gets to someone out there when they need it and makes the difference.

Well, this has gone really long and I’m sure there will be other things I wanna say about it later, but until then take care of yourselves and hopefully you’ll get the chance to be someone’s Julie Power.

P.S. - Julie, you’re amazing and I’m sure we will find a romance for you that works out eventually. Sorry that we’ve collectively now put you through three breakups.

#gwenpool #julie power #comics #marvel #power pack #deadpool #lgbtqia comics #asexuality #lgbtqia+#love unlimited #jeremy whitley

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artydonsgf · 24 days

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Hi, I know Mike fiast has a dog and not sure if you only write about art or mike but can I request Mike with his dog and a story regarding y/n - any direction works

hi! i forgot to add it to my rules but i don’t really write about actors/real people, all my work is fictional characters because that’s what’s comfortable to me. that’s on me though, but i did write a meet cute with art n his dog! please enjoy<3

“Stop!” The single word is so desperate, you can’t help but look up. Right as your eyes left the book in your hand, a speeding object hits you right in the chest. Everything goes flying, your book now ruined a few feet away. Your head snaps to the ground, your vision briefly going black as a result. You’re still on the floor when the same voice keeps yelling.

“Bad boy! No!” The sound of running fills your ears. You’re hauled up until you’re sitting, making the green of the grass and the blue of the sky blend together. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control the nausea rising in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” a voice frantically checks on you. The stranger places a hand over your hair. You finally stop swaying enough to put a hand up.

“Please stop yelling,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. You swallow another wave of nausea.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” the voice quiets but not by much. You crack an eye open, not really sure what you’d find. Crouched in front of you is a boy your age. His blue eyes are crinkled with worry and his blonde curls stick to his forehead, slick with sweat. The rush in your head stops a fraction. The hand that isn’t on your head is wrapped around the collar of his dog, effectively calming the puppy down. “Racket is only a puppy and I’ve been trying to train him to be less-,” he starts ranting.

“Not to interrupt or judge, but you named your dog Racket?” You both interrupt and judge in the same breath. The stressed look on his face melts away, now replaced with a puzzled look.

“I’m a tennis player, it only felt right,” he explained, his hand still situated on your head. You slowly nod. The dimples on his cheeks deepen with a smile. A click sounds in your brain and you recognize the boy in front of you.

“You’re Art Donaldson!” You move too fast and speak too loud and the sharp pain in your head is a swift punishment. He grabs your shoulder to steady you before nodding. His smile somehow getting bigger.

“You recognize me?” He sounds bashful. You give him a look before throwing a glance at the poster pinned to the tree behind him. A picture of Art is plastered over it with details of his upcoming game. There’s one on every tree in the park. His cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t actually think they’d put it on every tree,” he explains. You nod, still dizzy. It’s only then he remembers that his dog knocked you over. “You need a doctor. Can I bring you to the athletic trainer?” He points to a nearby building. You nod, getting ready to gather your things. He beats you to it and soon, your bag is slung around his shoulder. Racket sniffs at your feet but with a stern warning from Art, he walks forward with no issue. When you finally arrive at the trainer, Art explains what happened and waits patiently until you’re assessed.

“You likely have a very mild concussion. Keep an eye on your symptoms and if they worsen after about three days, please see your primary doctor,” The athletic trainer tells you, strapping a ice pack your head. “And if you can, stay with someone. This is just in case you end up passing out.” She pats your hand and gives you a lollipop on your way out the door.

“Thank you for bringing me,” you turn to Art with a smile. The ice pack strapped your head probably makes your face look a little wonky. “I’ll see you around.” You start to turn away but he grabs your hand.

“Wait,” he turns red upon realizing he grabbed you. “Do you have anyone to stay with?” He drops your hand and starts running his fingers through his hair. Your eyebrows shoot up, though your face looks squished.

“Yeah, my roomate is getting back from spring break in a few days, I’ll be fine,” you start to turn again but he stops you once more.

“I’m just a little worried, do you mind if I check up on you? Maybe through text?” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, dropping it in the process. Your head pounds still but butterflies start to flutter in your stomach.

“Are you asking me for my number?” Your sly look is thrown off once more by the ice pack but his face turns an even deeper shade of red anyway. He clears his throat.

“Yes, I am. I want to make sure my dog isn’t the reason a pretty girl gets irreversible brain damage,” he says with a grimace that is somehow adorable despite its awkwardness. You grab his phone and tap your number in, dropping an emoji with a bandage next to your name.

“We’ll work on your flirting techniques, I’ll see you around,” you wiggle your fingers before crouching down to gently rub Racket’s head. As you walk away, you decide that the concussion was worth it if it meant meeting Art Donaldson.

i know this isn’t exactly what you were looking for but i hope you enjoy anyway!! idk how concussions actually work by the way. thank you for the request n as always, feel free to request something again! mwah mwah mwah

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers imagine #challengers headcanon #challengers drabble #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #artydonsgf

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silenceandpatiencepining · 1 month

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I am dusting off my little blog here because TTPD has my mind absolutely reeling. I am really wondering if anyone else listened to this and had this feeling that the album confirmed everything that they were thinking was going on with her. I know we talk so much about reading her songs beneath the surface of muses or certain details used to craft a story, but to me, TTPD reads so strongly of her reckoning with her life in the industry. like, it's so much more than the relationships. it's the comp het, it's the religious trauma, it's the being exploited as a child star, it's deep wound of abandonment and neglect when she as a person got split off from her brand and both could not thrive, it's giving everything to this brand and career and fandom and that still never being enough. it's her codependency with the very people that exploit her. it's the fact that she is bigger than she ever imagined and none of it feels how she wanted. it's the simultaneous love and resentment she has towards her family, and relationships, and career, and yes, even her fans.

the rawness of this album, the unrefined feel, the summation poem talking about this as mania, the continuation of the cage imagery and themes of escaping to her mind/fantasy, the coping with criticism, numbing it all with alcohol, the willingness to burn it all down and disgrace her name because none of this is what she wants or at least not how she wants.

I have seen so many criticisms of the album and honestly, I understand where they are coming from, but I also think the things they criticize make the exact point of what this body of work is - something that exists for it's own sake to turn things back on the people that made her into what she is now. art created not to be acclaimed but because it demands to be expressed. it is an exorcism, an expulsion. it is something that erupted from her. and it's so meta because this fandom and the industry are voyeurs in an echo chamber so desperate to see what they want that they miss that this is about them. that is what makes it brilliant to me - it is self-indulgent and metaphorical, and complex, and so direct, but yet still masked just enough that people miss it. her entire life has become performance art. it is a play within a play. and I fear the audience has not caught on.

it feels like she is reclaiming it all. I feel like this could either be a hint at a new beginning or a signal that she has broken and this is the end. this felt like the tell-all memoir written in code that everyone else will finally understand when she really leaves this spotlight. it's the lucky one come to life. she is daydreaming about fucking it all and leaving this life behind so she can finally have some goddamn peace.

I love this album for it as art. it is so expressive. it is so heartbreaking. it's messy and nuanced, and I think it is going way the fuck over most people's heads, especially when you really dig into poetry being the theme and the specific works she references. it's only been a week and I am just starting to really dig in but talk about a fucking iceberg.

#ttpd #tsttpd #tortured poets department

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legiblyloathed · 1 year

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Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 2)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

A/N: This has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot to what’s now shaping up to be at least a five chapter story and for that I apologize. The “date” with Wally was only meant to be half a chapter and now it’s a full one. I will, in fact, learn nothing from this and will continue to accidentally increase my workload in the future. Many thanks for the kind comments on chapter 1, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

People who requested to be tagged; @whynot5243 @tikosan @itsyellow @twerkingnutella18 @azoart Y’all keep me going, I wish you the best.

Prev ——— Next

You know, maybe it was hasty to imagine Wally killing me as the worst case scenario. I think I’d take getting murdered in the woods over the uncomfortable silence I’ve been stewing in all afternoon.

Or at least, the silence is making me uncomfortable. Ever since I dragged myself out of the house to paint with him like I promised, I’ve spent damn near every minute avoiding eye contact like it’d kill me. Not that it seems to be working, as every time I glance up from my painting, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and without fail he’s always focused on me. How he’s managed to finish his own drawing in between these moments is beyond me, but the way the easels are laid out, I can’t see his canvas anyway. There’s every chance it’s blank, and he just coerced me out here to stare at me without interruption.

But now, the sky is shifting to a myriad of colors, and I send up a silent thank you to the heavens for the excuse to leave. “Well, this has been fun,” I start, wiping the excess paint on my hands onto the apron he loaned me. “But I don’t wanna have to walk home in the dark, so I’d best be off.”

“It has been fun, hasn’t it?” After who knows how long of complete silence, his voice makes me jump slightly. Wally takes a few slow, measured steps in my direction, stopping just a little too close to my personal bubble. His eyes glued to my messy painting of the woods, and his eternal smile seems to widen. “You’re good at this.”

I manage to let out a laugh. “Not really, but I appreciate it.” I glance over my own art at the back of his easel, morbid curiosity eating away at me. As much as I want to see what the resident weirdo drew when he wasn’t trying to burn a hole in my forehead, something tells me it’s better not to know.

Wally’s head turns slightly, following my gaze to his own artwork. “Oh, do you want to see mine?” he asks, not waiting for my answer as he walks over and grabs it off the easel. He stares down at it for a moment, as if ensuring its quality, then turns it around and holding it up for me to see. “I worked hard on it. What do you think?”

Upon examination, I think I should have chosen a different neighborhood to move into, one with less terrifying residents. Staring back at me is a portrait of none other than myself. I’m sitting on a bench, which, after a moment, I recognize as the one under the apple tree where Wally had been the day prior. I look relaxed, leaning back and resting my weight on my hands behind me, my attention drawn to something off to the right. As I scan it over, I note that I wasn’t drawn with the clothes I wore today, but the ones I had on yesterday, down to finest of details. It’s beautiful, and I hate it.

I’m left frozen in place, gawking at the perfect recreation of my likeness in silence. The man doesn’t seem to mind, content to let me take in the details of his piece as he in turn observes my reaction. When I manage to pull my attention back to his face, I stammer out, “That’s…” A hell of a red flag? My worst nightmare on a canvas? A fear I’d have deemed laughable before this moment? “…incredibly realistic.”

Wally turns the painting back to himself, looking down at it with an air of fondness. “I suppose it is. I can’t take all the credit, though.” His eyes look up at me, his head unmoving. “I had a very inspiring model.”

At this, I can feel the two sides of my brain start to feud. The optimistic side makes a good effort to insist that this explains the staring, that he just wanted to get the details right and I was wrong to treat it like a problem. The more realistic side then slaps the optimistic side upside the head and points out that no amount of staring could explain the sheer level of detail in clothes that I’m not even wearing today.

My thoughts continue to conflict with each other, the turmoil so strong that I don’t even register Wally getting closer until he’s barely a foot away from me. I jolt back, nearly falling over. He seems unbothered. “Say, neighbor, would you mind helping me carry all this back to Home? The paintings are delicate, I don’t want them getting crushed.”

Part of me really wants that painting getting crushed, but I don’t dare admit that out loud. Instead, I nod. “Alright, but we gotta hurry. It’ll be dark soon.” Already the sun is casting long shadows, obscured by the trees to the west. Wally and I pack up the paints and fold up the easels, and I balance them all in my arms while he holds the canvases to his chest. Together, the two of us set off towards the house in the center of the neighborhood.

No words are exchanged as we journey through the town. He seems content with the silence, and I’m content to not have to talk to him. It seems the rest of our neighbors have called it a day, Wally and I being the only two people out and about. The weight of the supplies makes my arms ache, but if the alternative is carrying a piece of art that feels just a little too haunted for my taste, I think I can tolerate the discomfort. I don’t know how the hell he managed to drag all of this junk out in the first place.

The sun has sunk down past the horizon by the time we make it to Home, painting the sky a myriad of purples and deep blues. It takes all I have left in me not to collapse upon the porch, made all the worse by Wally’s continued nonchalance as he opens the door and beckons me inside. I brush past him into the living room, dumping my armload of supplies onto the coffee table. With a weary huff, I throw myself down onto his couch to catch my breath, my eyes drooping shut.

“You feeling alright, there, neighbor?” The sofa sinks ever so slightly as he settles down beside me. When I don’t reply, too busy staring at my eyelids and regulating my heartbeat, he speaks with what almost feels like genuine concern, “If you were getting tired, you should have spoken up. I’d have been happy to take a break.”

I shake my head. “Fine, I’m fine. Just need a minute before I head home.”

There it is again, that damn laugh. “What do you mean? This is Home.” The sound of a door squeaking registers in my periphery, and I let my eyes open, squinting against the bright colors of his house. I take a glance out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, his own are glued on my face with a smile that registers as a little too suspicious for my tastes.

An increasingly familiar sense of unease overtaking me, I push myself up and lean away from him, hoping he didn’t notice, yet knowing he did. “I mean yeah, it’s your home, Wally,” I say, “but I have my own home to get back to.”

He lets out a soft hum, and I swear his smile wavers for just a moment. “I suppose you do,” he murmurs, sounding like he was talking to himself more than me. Risking another glance, I’m surprised to see his eyes not on me, but focused on the paintings that he had leaned against his armchair. My portrait, with its flat, distracted gaze, seemed to be staring back at us from the angle at which it stood.

With this newfound distraction from his observation, I move to push myself up off the couch, snapping him out of whatever stupor he’d been wandering in. I make sure to speak before his mouth catches up to his brain. “Well, today’s been… fun, but I think I’m gonna head out.”

I feel a hand clasp around my forearm, and I barely bite back a yelp at the contact. “It’s pretty dark out there, neighbor. Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep here tonight? I think you’d be safer.”

Nope, nope, nope nope nope. I pull my arm away, praying it didn’t look as panicked as it felt. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll have to pass. It’s not that long a walk, I’ll be fine.” I step away towards the door, and my stomach sinks when I hear Wally get up as well.

As I prepare to head out, the same hand settles upon my shoulder instead. “Well, if you’re sure, I won’t stop you,” he drawls, a trace of emotion I can’t quite name evident in his tone. He slips past me, opening the door himself. He tilts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Let’s do this again sometime. Won’t that be nice?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a challenge. Straightening up, I stand in the doorframe and meet his stare as evenly as I can. “I’m sure it would be.” The evening chill washes over me as I exit Home. “Good night, Wally.”

“Good night, neighbor. Sleep well.” My steps are steady and even as I walk down the porch stairs, and the light still pouring out as I walk away tells me that the door is still open. That he’s still there, still watching me. I hurry along towards my house, being sure to break out of his line of sight as soon as possible. It doesn’t help with the paranoia, but I pretend it does.

Tears nearly stream down my face in relief as I enter my own home and close the door, leaning back against it and sliding down to the ground. I don’t bother getting up, not to eat, not to shower, nothing. I just sit there, alternating between keeping my eyes closed to try and relax and opening them when I see those horrible eyes taunting me in the inky black. As I feel myself drifting off, one final thought crosses into my mind:

I never got my painting back from Wally.

#yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #yandere wally darling x reader #yandere x reader #yandere welcome home #male yandere #tw yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere #x reader #horror #ain’t he darling

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pascalcampion · 7 months

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Under the Boardwalk.

I was at Lightbox a few weeks ago and I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. ( hey Francis! We need to do lunch) He was laughing because he said that he had just seen a trailer for this thing I did some work on years ago. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Under the Boardwalk. Movies do take a while to get done.

Anytime I see a movie in a theater that doesn’t come from Pixar, Disney, Illumination or Dreamworks, I clap my hands in my mind. It is SO hard to get to the finish line. Each movie that you see is the result of a series of small miracles.

I did a couple months of work on it. I was think it was in preproduction at the time. It was called Jersey Crabs at the time and there were only three people on it. At least, I only met three.

There was Chris Zibach, Ericka Stewart and David Soren.

I had just come off of two rather long and hard productions and I was a bit burned out about Art direction, production design or just… design in general.

When I first got an email about this, I wasn’t sure. But I went over to Paramount to meet with all three of them.

And you know what? They were fantastic.

Ericka was the producer and she had this no nonsense approach. Tell me your price, I’ll tell you if we can do it, if not we’ll figure something out. Boom. Done. She cut to the chase and any time I had a question she would reply within the hour. Her feedback was always short and precise, and she was always encouraging. After I was gone, she emailed me a couple of times to follow up on this or that. She didn’t leave any loose ends AND, something that is absolutely remarkable in this industry, she would reply to emails. She didn’t simply reply when she needed something, but when I would ask her if I could send recommendations, or if there were any other projects going on, she would send me an email back. I think the longest it took her to reply was TWO days, which is incredible.

Chris Zibach. It wasn’t immediately clear what Chris’s role on this was. I knew he was an artist. I had met him a few years prior while visiting a friend at Dreamworks TV I think. He was quieter than Ericka. Not sure if he was shy or I was simply too aloof for him to talk to me. For whatever reason, when I saw him, I thought of Tim Burton. Maybe the genius in him? Not sure. Later, I learned he was the production designer. I was surprised because that is something I typically learn on the first meeting. I was also unsure of his role because I hadn’t seen any of his work before and he didn’t act like any of the production designers I had met before. He wasn’t bombastic or sure of himself. He wasn’t trying to win me over with his talent or past battlefield experiences. He was humble. Yes, I think that’s probably the right word. Humble. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out if it was humility or something else.

It became clear after the first few designs of his I’d seen and especially after I had done a sketch for a moment that I couldn’t quite picture. I wasn’t understanding what they were looking for and Chris did this thirty second sketch that was SO clear, SO readable and SO easy to work with, and I was. OH! Ok.. he’s the real deal.

I love Artists like him. I wish I had worked with him more actually.

And, David Soren, the director

That was such an interesting meeting.

You know how sometimes you are hesitating on a project and you meet the team and all of a sudden it all flips? That’s how it was for this. I didn’t know what this story was based on, I didn’t find crabs particularly interesting, and the story, as it was pitched, wasn’t what I gravitate toward.

But David, wow. He had this energy in the meeting, this confidence. He was good at talking but he could listen AND hear you. He could also answer questions. Any type of question regarding the art, the story, the schedule, the planning. I didn’t know much about him but I came away very impressed.

I gave it a shot and now, I feel I was lucky to have been asked because, even if I was only on this for a very short while, it was one of those candy like work experiences. All good, nothing bad. Short and sweet and really fun.

There was a moment when I was drawing this big long scene that was supposed to be in the middle of a battle and I stopped, look at it and laughed on the inside because I had just realized I was being paid to do this and THIS was SO much fun.

I don’t know what my job was, what I was supposed to bring to the project. I didn’t understand why they had me do these designs when Chris’s work was so different and so unique already, but all three did a good job at quieting those thoughts.

I was working from home and they were on the lot. If I remember correctly, they would send me emails to broadly tell me “ There is a flood there, there is a battle there, there is club, a hotel, etc etc” and I would just do some images on what I thought it could be.

They already had some character designs, and Chris had done a few images, so I wasn’t totally going from nothing.

Each time I would send a set of images, I would get an email back the same day or the next day from either Ericka or David telling me something nice. Never from Chris though. I always wondered why but now I am realizing it was because he was too busy getting the whole thing off the ground.

I would get notes sometimes but not very often. Chris would do little drawers or notes on my images and, again, they were always minimal except for that one set piece and always clear.

I don’t know what the movie is like. I was still working on this when I started with the Peanuts Special which would occupy my life for the next three and a half years.

But I do know that I remember this as a very fun, loving and carefree work experience, which have not come around very often in my career.

Thank you Ericka, Chris and David.

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