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gods-bound · 2 years

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Dawn Coming - Chapter 2

It's easy, in the end, to make a detour on the way back.

The Temple of the Seven Skies spans from the highest peak of Sunspoke to the lowest point of the valley, comprised of a single long walkway that transects the city, rising from its lowest point all the way to its highest, great stone braziers guarding it's path, lighting the route for pilgrims to walk by night, walking beneath the towering gaze of it's many statutes. One temple, it calls itself, but in truth it's really seven, each grand temple dotted along its path like beads upon a chain, starting with the Circle of the Bleeding Sky at its very base and rising to the Circle of the Dawning Sun, at the peak of Mount Kharin.

The sun has only just begun to angle downwards, light still bright, the braziers yet unlit, flowering mouths of stone standing empty as Tarn steps onto the Starlit Path, joining the path as it rises past the third Circle. The statues seem smaller like this, in the daylight, without the silver light of the braziers to shine on their faces, and yet even now they still tower, rising higher than life, watching those that walk at their feet with shadowed eyes.

There are hundreds of them, thousands, statues lining the walkway all the way from the base of the city to the mountain's peak, each a legend in their own right. Heroes of old, kings and priestesses, the highest and mightiest of the Nightfather's children cast into stone in resemblance of their name. They're Nightchildren, most of them, black skin turned pale by the grey marble, but you can see it in their faces, the shape of them, in the carve of their eyes - their gazes hollowed, leaving a staring void black, now pupiless in death.

Haema's children and Nightchildren may look similar, but there is not mistaking them, not really. Sharp ears, glowing eyes - they are kin, of a kind, but as different as they are similar, born of different roots. No Nightchild will live as long as a Haema's child, blessed with eternity as they are, just as no Haema's child will see the sky and know it as a Nightchild does, seeing the echo of their own blood in the stars that spill across the milky sky.

There are Haema's children among the statues, though, and others besides. Deveura, with their curling horns and proud scaled countenances, tall and broad and strong, as honorable and proud as the dragons that once bore them into the world. Talsmarin, standing in all forms, claws clasped around their swords, and Averia with them, fur and feathers side by side, all honored side by side with the Nightfather's own children. They earned their honor, earned their place standing there, their names immortalized in the temple of a father their's only by adoption, his children as much as any other, even if not by blood.

It's not nightfall yet, too early for most to yet visit the Path, but there are still others about, clusters of Nightchildren dressed in black, walking up the Path in small groups. Music can already be heard, soft voices carried on the breeze - priestesses, singing at the temples, or pilgrims, paused before the feet of one of the ancient champions, lost sons and daughters of the Nightfather who's protection can now be called on in their own right, saints of a kind, willing to look kindly upon those who still remaining, granting fortitude, or wisdom, patience or courage.

Tarn skirts around a group of Averia, their blacks drawn close around them, over the flash of colourful feathers as they stand before the foot of one of the ancient saints, an Averia themselves, feathers carved soft in the stone, a lyre held in the Averia's marble claws, their beak that of a songbird, with the soft eyes to suit it. The Averia sing at her feet, soft voices rising together in sweet melody, lines of prayer flags draped around the feet of the statue, sigils of remembrance written in the Averia's own style, even as they prey to her with the songed prayers of the Nightchildren.

Ahead, the great plaza of the fourth Circle opens. It stretches hundreds of meters in diameter, statues standing around its circumference, the smooth stone laid flat and even, carved with the watching phases of the moon, in all its many cycles.

Already, the songs of a few of the priestesses can be heard, from the wings of the temple surrounding the great plaza, more voices rising still from the center of the plaza itself. His boots tread upon carved rays of light, the moon's radiance shining out across the floor of the plaza, touching all, constellations set into stone between the arching rays. The Circle of the Moonbright, of the sole light that shines through the dark, providing guidance to travelers and the lost, all those who stand in the dark and do not know which way to turn.

It's one of the smaller circles, not near a third the size of the Circle of the Bleeding Sky or the Circle of the Twilight Face, where you go to pray for war and fertility in turn, but to be honest this Circle has always been Tarn's favorite. There's something about it, about the sight of the moon, shining with its pale rays, growing small and faint as they stretch outwards, and yet reaching all the same - something about the sound of the priestesses here, who sing with such mellow, soft voices, low and gentle, praying for wisdom for those who ask for it.

It's Tarn's favorite of all the Circles, but it isn't his destination today, that honor held by the fifth Circle. The Circle of the Moonless Dark isn't the largest of them all, but it is the most frequented. No light is carved on the floor of its plaza, no faces of the moon to light the way - nothing but stars, a network of spanning constellations that stretch the length of the plaza in swirling patterns, a mirror to the star, the paths of their annual journeys written out in arcing lines.

A few priestesses are already singing, a crowd already gathered in the Circle. All those who wear their hoods drawn pull them back here, to better let the stars see their faces - or most of them, at least. Some do not wish to be known, and pass cloaked, taking their turn to pause before one of the priestesses and press a coin into her hand, leaning to murmur in her ear. They turn then, and leave, fleeing before they can hear the song continue - ashamed, perhaps, of who they have come to pray for, or simply unable to face those they have lost.

Come nightfall, there will be a hundred different priestesses at the Circle of the Moonless Dark, two hundred, more, all singing with a beauty that beggars description. Entire crowds will gather, just to hear the greatest of them sing, dropping coins at their feet just for the chance to beg a moment of their time, the chance that they might sing their chosen name in turn.

Only a handful of the priestesses are out, though, the afternoon still young. Most of the Circle's visitors are gathered around the grandest of them, at the center of the plaza, the priestesses' voice ringing smooth and deep over the Circle, her song flawless and serene.

Tarn skirts the crowds, making instead for one of the priestesses that stands right at the edge of the Circle, on the other side of the plaza. The priestess there is a young one, a sister of the lower order perhaps, silver glinting from the bound braids of her hair and lines of silver filigree painted across her face, standing stark on her night-dark skin. Her voice is sweet, but quiet, modest in regard to some of the other priestesses, and maybe that's why there are only a scattered handful of Nightchildren that stand around her alcove, where dozens upon dozens gather before the grander priestesses at the center of the Circle.

She meets his eyes, recognition in her gaze as Tarn steps up, holding out his own coin when she pauses in her verses. Every week, Tarn returns on the same day, at the same time, and every week he comes to the same priestess, paying for the same song of prayer. With a gold ducal, he could pay any of the grander priestesses for the same song, have it sung louder, more finely, by a voice with more experience, but Tarn always comes here. He doesn't know her name, the name of her birth veiled and hidden when she swore herself to the sisterhood, known only now to her sisters, but that doesn't matter - she sings beautifully all the same. Even quiet, her voice is true, and she sings with a depth of feeling more honest than every great sweeping aria, her song soft but honestly meant.

It's what first drew him to her, all those years ago, and what has kept him coming back to her since. She sings the sort of song his mother would have liked, he thinks. She'll sing the prayers right, and mean them honestly, and that's worth every gold coin spent.

The priestess head dips, eyes soft behind her lashes as she inclines her head, folding the coin into her hand. "For Tidea, daughter of Helna." Tarn tells her, though by now she's probably heard the request enough times to know the name by heart. "On behalf of her son."

The priestess gives a silent nod, and Tarn steps back. She straightens to begin her song once more even as Tarn turns, walking away. He draws gazes as he does it, the other Nightchildren before her sending him curious looks as he goes, wondering, perhaps, why he might pay so much for a song and then not stay to hear it.

Tarn doesn't look back at them, merely walking on. Behind him, he hears her song begin anew, soft tones beginning to carry, another name now added to her song, adding a verse to the endless song as it continues. There are hours yet until night, and yet she'll sing the song until the sun sets, and then sing it beyond, continuing until the moment the moon is high in the sky and another priestess comes to replace her.

Tarn walks on, humming beneath his breath as he goes, the self same song the priestess sings, the stars bright overhead as he goes. It's enough, he thinks, to know that her name is being sung even if he isn't there to hear it.

Tarn makes his way back through the city at a leisurely pace. He turns left on his way down the hill, making his way to the shadow of the Sunderling Arena and veering around towards the west entrance, where the grand high face of the building gives way to sprawling courtyard and high buildings, more modest in nature - the fighter's approach, where those who appear as sport in the game make their entrance.

The months fighters have been named, their names posted on a sign hanging beside the gate to the courtyard, and Tarn pauses just long enough to cast a glance over the list, only to let out an amused hum, unsupervised when he doesn't find himself. He tucks his hands in his pockets, and keeps walking, letting himself be swept along in the crowd moving along the main road. Its not that he expected to be chosen - really, Tarn knew better than to delude himself, had put his name down on the off chance more than anything - but still, it seemed dumb not to check.

The shadows are just starting to lengthen by the time Tarn makes his way back to the Closeheld Quarter, with its winding narrow streets and leaning buildings. It's just as ramshackle as the Nameling Quarter, the streets narrow and crowded, squeezed into what little space they can find.

Tarn navigates it with familiarity, slipping down easy shortcuts and winding sets of stairs, heading back down the hill. There's something sweet and fragrant cooking, scent carried by the breeze, and Tarn would bet anything that it's old lady Kvisa's spiced honeycakes. Tarn passes her window as he winds down the stairs, hands tucked in his pockets, pausing only to lean in and give her a wave, and then he's carrying on, humming as he goes.

He earns nods here, fellows in the street calling his name and giving waves of their own, and Tarn greets them in turn, cutting deeper into the heart of the district, where the buildings grow even taller and even more crowded. Old man Ranhun is sitting on the steps of his building, smoke rising from his pipe, dark skin wrinkled and creased, his hair not so much silver anymore as it is sheer pale snow-fall white, and he huffs on his pipe as Tarn passes, sending up a cloud of smoke as he peers at him with near-blind eyes.

"That you, boy?" The old man asks, scowling through the smoke, raising his pipe like he's going to try and prod him with it. "At the arena again, were you?"

Tarn lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Just coming back from the Path actually. You know I wouldn't hurt a fly."

That makes Ranhun huff in disbelief, coughing a bit on his smoke, waving his pipe. "If you're just going to tell me lies, then go on, get! Ruffian, I'd chase you off myself if I were a few years younger and still had my sword-"

Tarn laughs, walking on, pausing only to call back over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be in tomorrow morning - you give a shout if you need help with your roof again, yeah?"

"Ruffian!" Ranhun calls after him, waving his pipe, though Tarn can tell he's half a breath off laughing himself, and Tarn just grins and turns down into the next narrow alley, skipping down the steep steps. The streets are darker here, shadowed, narrower, and the glances Tarn draws are less savory. People keep their distance though, the few scowling Nightsons who key him from doorsteps or the corner of adjoining alleys knowing better than to tangle with him.

Tarn might have made a name for himself in the arena, but it was here he learned to fight, and people remember it.

He gets a few wary looks, a few respectful nods - a few looks that are almost friendly even, with Tarn giving nods in turn - and then he's down the final set of stairs, turning the last tight corner into his own nameless alley. The buildings here are patchworks of stone and wood, rising stories high, scrap-wood holding together the bandaged forms of once much nicer houses. The door to Jaskun's is locked, the curtains drawn, so Tarn takes the outside way instead, squeezing his way into the tight space between the buildings, past a rising pile of crates, until he finds the ladder.

It's a rickety thing, with rungs that have been repaired one too many times, and it creaks with each step, but it holds his weight as he makes his way up and that's all he needs it to do. There's a trick to opening the window at the top, a specific way to jiggle the latch to make it open, and then Tarn is in, slipping into the cool shadow of his small attic room.

Tarn unbelts his scabbard, setting his sword down on the small table with a thunk, a hand rising to rub at the ache in the back of his neck as he turns. He pauses only to swallow down the half-empty remains of a glass of water sitting by the window before slumping back down onto his bed, sprawling out with a sigh.

The shadows have lengthened enough to cast patterns across his ceiling, and Tarn rests an arm behind his head, grimacing a little as it makes the new bruises up his side ache. Something bites at his side, uncomfortable in his pocket, and Tarn reaches down, drawing out that last single coin - a golden ducal face, stamped with twin moons crossing in an eclipse.

When he turns it in hand, the king's face greets him, regal and stern. For a long moment, Tarn looks at it, at the lines of the king's face - the sharp peaks of his crown, the proud line of his beard, eyes that seem to stare beyond the horizon - and then Tarn is flicking the coin into the air, catching it in his palm on the way down.

"Well," Tarn says, "whatever."

He drops the coin on his bedside table and sits up, tugging loose the ties of his shirt as he hauls it over his head. Sleep now, and then he can wake up early, maybe go in search of something to eat, or go bother Isvana for some medicine or something, waste a few hours doing some odd jobs before he heads to go see the bookies, see what other fights are coming up this week.

The coin stares at him from the table, the king's face now hidden, but Tarn doesn't pay it another glance.

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#gods bound #dawn coming #tarn #original fiction #dark fantasy #violence #wolrdbuilding #poverty #gladiator #aka the one with the bastard scion

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someawkwardnerd · 6 months

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just finished watching Scavengers Reign and am all kinds of stressed and fucked up please watch this show if you have the chance

#scavengers reign #i was so excited for this show to come out and its!!!! so good!!!!!!!!!#its soo much more than i could have ever hoped for i am so excited about it PLEASE WACTH ITTTT #the visuals are stunning #sound design?? stunning #characters?? stunning #WOLRDBUILDING???? stunning #this shit has such a grip on me the way we have seen into the relationships of these characters independently and how they interact with the #world and how they manage their resources how they learn from observation and how they interact with each other and their memories and their #past present and future im going crazy this show has everything i could have ever wanted and more!!!#sorry for yelling abt it but also not sorry #i probably wonr be able to do fanart for it until i finishy thesis so deal with this for now #bc rest assured i am coming back and i will be insufferable #if you have read this so yourself the favor and just check out the show if it seems even a little interesting definitely give it a watch its #incredible!!!

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singswan-springswan · 9 months

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something I've been mildly curious about in star wars is how their gravity works. Like obviously the ships have artificial gravity so the people can walk around instead of floating while they're in space and logically planets with different masses are going to have different gravitational pulls. Zeb also makes a comment in like one of the first episodes of Rebels about "not being that heavy at this gravity" which makes me wonder if there's like a gravitational standard in the galaxy the way they have a standard for time and the calendar and if so do all ships use it? Also after the Purge this could be a fun way for a Force user to play off their ability to jump higher and throw farther than their species average as "oh I'm used to a heavier planetary gravitational pull haha" which is mostly inspired by rationalizing the way people who don't know Kanan is a Jedi watching him do things a human on Earth would not physically be capable of and not reacting at all.

#Star wars wolrdbuilding #Gravity #Star wars gravity

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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Daily Log 4

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Woke up late because I went back to sleep with a headache briefly, then kind of struggled to focus all day ToT

Worked more on the aforementioned tapestry/painting type of thing. I've done the base layer of painting for the main image, now I'm lining in darker outlines. I wanted to finish the center art before getting into the intricate borders. Still haven't translated the text lol..

Made a small bowl and also a little box with a lid out of more avocado pits. Still just with random nail cuticle tool things and kitchen knives, as I don't have proper carving tools.

Finished editing and proofreading the new poll adventure post!! I don't have time to post it tonight because I need to get to sleep early but.. I have it Completely 100% Ready.. finally..

Also washed the clothes I got together yesterday. Called about the bloodwork. Sent an email to a doctor.

Reviewed some writing documents to get back into my game maybe?? (basically, I started working on a visual novel type game a few years ago, decided it was a huge project so kind of put it on the backburner for a while in favor of things that were more easily finishable/tangible. then later on a game website I play (similar to neopets or something, there are collectable little creatures, etc.) there was an opportunity for me to design a pet on site, so I made a smaller shorter visual novel centered around that, where people on the site have to play the game in order to earn the pet, and I have a google form for them to answer a few short questions about it. All of the feedback is quite positive (reached 200 responses a while ago! though still only like 4 comments on the itch.io page lol.. Mandatory Form vs. Optional Comments evil showdown), but sometimes I get commentary that's really enthusiastic and inspires me to start back working on the OTHER bigger game. The small game was kind of like, a proof of concept that was safe because I had a guaranteed audience, that has helped me gain more insight for the larger one.

Anyway, since I've abandoned the Main Large Game for so long, I have to re-read and review/probably rewrite A LOT of things just to pick it back up again as A Thing I'm Actively Working On, so it's another one of those tasks that I do maybe 45 minutes of and then realize it's going to take days and days and get discouraged lol..

Notable sights: Saw two cats in windows. No clovers. It rained a little today but I didn't get to go outside and see it. One of the pieces of asparagus in the fridge was like the size of a carrot, comically overgrown downright ridiculous looking asparagus. Maybe I'll get taller after eating it.

Goals moving forward: Consistent sleep schedule. Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc.

Notable foods: ASPARAGUS AGAIN BABEY.. yeaAAAAGHHH asparagus squad !!!!!!

#just posting these publicly since it feels more like I'm doing something or easier to hold yourself accountable if you make public #declarations of goals and progress or etc. .. perhaps.. for now..#I wonder if you can eat too much asparagus. Hopefulyl I don't get sick ghjbj #Still craving lots of savory foods and soups. Also in a big big worldbuilding mood.#Not enough to actually edit the worldbuilding slideshow videos apparently since I've barely done any of that all week #>:Y #(they are different though.. actively writing wolrdbuilding is different from like.. editing recordings of you talking about it #BUT STILL...)#In an ideal world I have a little house in scotland or canada or something and am sitting cozy by a window watching it #rain whilst I eat lasagna and like a huge buffet table of every single hearty food I am having Anemia Cravings for #and my cat is sitting near me and I am furiously sketching various designs for different worldbuilding details. I have finally found #a weird hermit platonic best friend I'm compatible enough to live with and they are up in the attic doing their own weird little hobbies #but every once in a while I can call them down and tell them about an idea so we can bounce concepts off of each other. I somehow walk away #with no heartburn or stomach upset or nausea despite eating 800 plates of craving foods. It's cold and summer #does not exist anymore but not in a Catastrophic For The Earth type of way more in a like.. I am in a magical bubble #that only affects my direct vicinity and sheilds me from the temperature ever getting above 65F #(also I have a comfortable amount of money and good doctors and reasonable health etc. etc. but that's a given in any Ideal Scenario lol)#oughh... I just want to eat hearty breakfast foods and think about elves for 5 hours.. is that so much to ask #Why must... responsibilities... capitalism... limited time and no energy to focus on 100 projects at once... why these things...#ANYWAY #daily log

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bulletproofscales · 2 years

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kinktober day 13 - ice / together (namseok)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42934197/chapters/107868291#workskin

Namjoon said he could control himself. So Hoseok should have nothing to worry about. Emphasis in should.

He knew when he got to dating a hybrid, a black bear hybrid specifically, instincts would play an important part of their relationship. And he is more than okay with that! Really! But when his boyfriend asked Hoseok if they wanted to spend a weekend in a desolate cabin in the woods at the dead of winter….He suspected there was something Namjoon wasn’t saying.

“We’ve both been so overworked it will do us good to leave and disconnect for a bit.” Namjoon argues, and Hoseok has to concentrate on not finding it endearing that his boyfriend’s idea to relax is going to a place where literal horror movies start. It's so heartwarming how his instincts show in so many ways and it feels like Namjoon, possibly the most intelligent person he knows, doesn’t notice.

“I think it will be fun.” He agrees, warmth probably showing through his smile. “You don’t have to convince me, Joon.” His smile becomes a little bit more knowing. “But… If you’re doing this for any instinct related reasons, I’d like to know.” It wouldn’t change his excitement for the trip. But he’s seen the signs to know something deeper is going on.

The strength suppressants on their bathroom cabinet that he stopped taking, the nesting he’s been attempting to do on their bed, the constant adjustment of his short tail against his pants. Hoseok knows the weight of a mostly human society forces his bear hybrid boyfriend to perform all sorts of adjustments to fit in properly, to get a job, to exist in a world clearly not meant for him. And all these signs were things Hoseok could recognize as his boyfriend trying to take pride in his hybrid form and identity; in any way that he could with their lifestyle in a downtown apartment.

Namjoon sits next to him on the couch, softened but stocky nonetheless. Family sized, Hoseok liked to call him. With broad muscular shoulders, rounded pecs but chubby waist and a soft belly to contrast. “Yeah… It is an instinct thing.” He admits, cringing a little at himself. “I just feel like I’ve been forcing myself too much, you know?” Hoseok doesn’t know, he can’t imagine what his boyfriend feels like. “I need to let go and feel a bit like myself again.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Namjoon.” Hoseok turns to him, his own chubby belly pressing a bit against the bear hybrid’s arm. “I want to be there with you when you let go.” His hand rubs the top of Namjoon’s thigh, bigger than Hoseok’s but budging with muscle underneath the layer of pudge.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He smiles softly, but Hoseok can see the tint of dejection behind it. “I know it scares you to go out of town for so long.”

He is shaking his head before Namjoon can finish that thought. “I can handle it!” It comes off as a very unconvincing whine, but it makes his boyfriend laugh so Hoseok takes it as a win. “Getting to see you deep in your instinct… I really treasure it.” He says softer. Hoseok has gotten a chance to see him in the past, mostly during his rut when they agreed the hybrid would not take his suppressants that month. Hoseok never would’ve guessed being a hybrid in modern day would imply taking so many pills. The point is he handled it like a champ, ok? He’s got this.

Any time he can, he wants to be with Namjoon through it.

Soft grin spreads across his cheeks, nodding softly. “I know…I love you.”

“I love you too, baby bear.” He leans for a gentle kiss and a slap to Nmajoon’s thigh. “Let’s have fun this weekend, hm?”

What Hoseok hadn’t considered was the way the sharp winter up north would influence his boyfriend’s instincts.

Friday can't come soon enough before they’re both done with their week and ready to leave, bags already packed for their short getaway. The drive is long but nothing excruciating, four hours and they’re deep into the woods, having stopped for groceries at the last little town that's nearest to where they are staying. Hoseok caught Namjoon trying to hoard as much food as he could in strong armfuls as he got them to the register, eager in his step, little black ear speaking from his hair twitching gleefully. He seems so excited he isn’t even phased at the weirded out looks he gets from the old lady at the register the entire time. With their car, now packed full of Namjoon's selection of food, they make their way to the snowy woods where a small but very well kept cabin waits for them.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Namjoon so excited as he was carrying everything in their car, refusing Hoseok's offer to help as he rushed inside. Nub black tail waving behind him.

“Ah, it's like you can just feel the fresh air is better here.” He sighs out, his smile adoringly big as he eyes everything, setting the food down on the table and eyeing the place. Hoseok is grinning too, even if he isn’t taking any looks at the cabin.

“Enjoy it while you can because I’m not opening any windows the entire weekend.” It's an empty threat as he walks to his boyfriend, cupping his cheek to direct him to look at Hoseok. And when he does, there's something giddy about Namjoon’s expression, yeah; but…something else shining behind his eyes too. He can’t put a name on it. “But I don’t want you to hold back okay? This weekend is for you.”

Even if Hoseok considered himself privileged enough to have gotten to see more of Namjoon’s animalistic side, he knows his boyfriend never truly lets go. Always holding back just a little bit. He doesn’t care if it's the shame or if Namjoon is concerned about hurting Hoseok; he wants none of it in these three days.

Luckily Namjoon nods, face already nuzzling to Hoseok’s touch. “Okay… Thank you again, for coming with me.” He is looking at Hoseok like he hung the moon himself.

“I want to be here.” He reassures stepping closer, their soft bellies pressing lightly against one another. “Now… What do you want to do?”

Should he have considered his options better before asking Namjoon such a question? Yes. Does Hoseok regret asking? Absolutely not.

Namjoon hauled him up, even though Hoseok is not as light as he used to be, and plopped him on the huge bed. From then, he got to see the bea hybrid frantically rush around the room, looking through their bags, as he assembled a nest around his boyfriend. All he had to do was lean back and enjoy the way Namjoon brought some of his clothes and Hoseok’s too, accommodating them seemingly strategically. He never got to do this sort of thing at home, not really, not with the inconvenience it would be to exist in their daily lives having to maintain the nest without intrusions. He was frowning concentrated, his tongue gently poking out as he tested out the pillows that would surround Hoseok’s body. While he laid down regenerating from the long drive, letting his boyfriend make him feel so spoiled.

How could anyone ever deny their partner to do this?

It was about 40 minutes, and while he was enjoying it, he much rather cuddle with the teddy bear of his boyfriend. Hoseok gets to catch Namjoon’s wrist gently. Their eyes meet and… Namjoon looks a lot more gone than he was when he first started, hazy, widened. As if the hybrid had truly, finally, allowed himself to sink into that instinctual headspace.

“Hey.” Hoseok smiles up to him, relaxed. “Why don’t you join me?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Namjoon so determined yet at such a loss for words. “I— I just need to get one more thing.” There's a seriousness in his voice Hoseok doesn’t dare refute. Letting go of his wrist as Namjoon rushes out the master bedroom. Followed by loud shuffling that's only explained when Hoseok’s boyfriend returns, big arms full of all the food he had bought.

He smiles a little confused. “What did you bring all the food for, Joon-ah?” There’s only warmth behind his voice but Namjoon still looks like he got caught doing something wrong. Even if he slipped into the headspace it doesn’t mean he feels any less guilty about it.

“I… well you know… It's so cold… we shouldn’t- I mean we really should try to- to stay uh– to stay warm.” Watching him try to articulate the words his instincts are yelling at him to do. Hoseok bites his lip from where he is laying on the bed; it's hard to contain his grin.

“We should prepare to hibernate…” Maybe he did some homework before coming. But it's worth it for the brightness that takes over Namjoon’s expression, as if he was finally heard, seen.

“Yes!” He sighs as if relieved Hoseok took the burden of saying it for him. “It's kinda late already but we should still be able to manage keeping warm.” As he explains he sets the food in the nest carelessly before crawling in next to Hoseok. Pressing to him as if they were truly in danger of freezing, as if his softened body wasn’t a furnace of its own.

“Here you should start with this Seok-ah.” He explains excitement evident in his voice as he passes Hoseok an arrangement of packaged sweets. Deep fried and oily, and with no room for Hoseok to refuse. Especially hard to do so when the bear hybrid was opening a package for him and shoving it to Hoseok’s lips. A surprised noise leaves his lips that Nammjoon is quick to assure. “That's it… That’s it, baby.” Even in his desperate tone he manages to make Hoseok shiver. Sounds like Namjoon’s control over himself is slipping and no one is doing anything to stop his instincts from taking over.

He eats obediently, trying to keep up with the hurried urgent pace of Namjoon’s feeding. Likcing at the hybrid's fingers, the urgency contagious in the way his eyes stared down at Hoseok predatory. The hand that isn't feeding Hoseok wrapping around to press at the small of his back. As soon as the first package is done, the bear is grunting as he lifts Hoseok's body up and places it on his own lap.

The abandoned strength suppressants, right. Even if he remembers it doesn't stop Hoseok's arousal from going on overdrive. His body jiggled as it set aggressively on the hybrid, their bellies pressing together, soft yet entirely different from one another. Hoseok's ass and ample thighs spilling from Namjoon's softened lap. His hand leaves Hoseok's back to grip gently at his padded jaw. Holding him in place as he hand needs him more.

In the quickened pace it's easy to ignore the way his stomach bulges forward in a tight bloat. Ballooning and sinking hentley against Namjoon’s soft one. But the strain of his stomach grows and Namjoon’s pace doesn’t seem to be stopping. “Ah… Baby I’m.. I think I've had enough.” He whispers gently, his cheeks muffled still by the two Twinkies Namjoon had stretched his lips with, and he was just now struggling to swallow.

As soon as he says it there's trouble behind his boyfriend’s eyes, insecurity, worry. He can hear the apology about to slip his lips before Hoseok interrupts. “I want to feed you too…” A shy smile grows on his face. “You need to keep warm too, right?”

Namjoon’s expression becomes stunned as he nods quickly, Hoseok matching the intensity the ebar used to feed him earlier as he quickly opens a pack of the first thing he can grab. Only finding out later that it's one of those big packages of chocolate covered oreos when he is pushing them past Namjoon’s eager opened lips. The hybrid was just as eager as he was in his feeding, licking of Hoseok’s fingers letting crumbs messily collect along his lips, chocolate coverage taintint his lips.

But it was even better when he got to feel the way namjoon’s soft stomach began to bloat too. Pressing firm against Hoseok’s, the combined tightness and pressure they got from each other making Nmajoon’s whine slip through his stuffed cheeks. Arching his back and gripping tighter at Hoseok’s love handles just to keep him closer. Forcing their stomachs together, in a way that makes them both moan. Hoseok shivers above him, hand forcefully shoving the three oreos left in his hand. Even with the w Namjoon’s cheeks struggle to fit everything in, staring at Hoseok lustful, vulnerable. To have such a powerful, strong, wolf, eating off the palm of his hand. Hoseok feels drunk with power. “Did that finally settle your instincts, baby?” His hands travel to Namjoon’s pudgy sides, his smile hazy and pleased when Hoseok gropes. And that satisfaction is contagious when the hybrid nods lazily.

#kinktober #ice /together #namseok #bear hybrid namjoon #the wolrdbuilding is copied from beastsars #muscle chub namjoon #chubby hoseok #mutual stuffing

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