hello folks, I go by Metro and/or Chesha. Iâm a 25 yo queer artist and writer! This is @cheshagirlâ âs sideblog for Avatar and original content! check out @cheshadrawsâ for specifically art only content of mine :)
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anyways, Iâm currently hyperfixating on Avatar and itâs overall universe so if youâd like me to write some headcanons or short fics send me a prompt!
warnings:
This is a nsfw space, meaning minors should not follow me or interact.
I will not write or draw any nsfw content regarding the underage characters (tuk, neteyam, spider, kiri, loâak, etc)
extra:
I am extremely in love with creating lore and drawing self indulgent oc shit so Iâll post a lot of my ocâs (mainly Zae or OwsiupĂ€t). I also love talking about them so asks about them would be appreciated and treasured
currently writing a fic about my naâvi ocs with the recoms
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oc introductions:
OwsiupĂ€t â avatar fandom, naâvi oc / intro
Laâeng â avatar fandom, naâvi oc / intro
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if yâall have any questions just shoot me an ask/message :)
When Tarsem becomes the new Oloâeyktan of the clan, you believe he will start courting another, more fitting woman to be by his side.
cw: light angst; hurt/comfort; mating
You stand at the edge of the upper platforms of the Omatikaya clanâs new Hometree, watching the evening firelight flicker across the gathered people.
Tarsemânow Oloâeyktan, mantle heavy on his broad shouldersâmoves among the people with that same quiet steadiness that first drew your heart. He speaks with elders, laughs softly with warriors, lays a gentle hand on childrenâs heads as they pass. Every young unmated female seems to find a reason to linger near him tonight, their eyes bright with hope.
You feel the ache settle deeper in your chest.
You are a skilled weaver and singer, yesâyour voice carries the old songs well, your fingers weave patterns that make elders smile with memoryâbut you are not the daughter of a great hunter, nor the sister of a legendary warrior. You are simply you: steady, kind, perhaps too quiet for the mate of an Oloâeyktan. Surely he will choose someone bolder, someone whose bloodline strengthens the clan more visibly.
You slip away before the feast ends, climbing higher into the branches where atokirina drift like slow stars; their presence somewhat soothing you. The night air is cool against your skin, and you press your back to the wide trunk of Hometree, letting the tears come silently.
You do not hear him approach.
Suddenlt, strong arms slide around you from behindâfamiliar, careful. Tarsemâs chest presses to your back, his chin resting atop your head as he envelops you completely.
âI looked for you below,â he murmurs, voice low and warm against your ear. âYou left too soon, ma yawne.â
You try to steady your breath, but it trembles. âThere were many who wished to speak with you, Oloâeyktan. I did not want to⊠steal your time.â
His arms tighten slightly. âYou steal nothing that is not already yours.â
You turn in his embrace, searching his faceâthose calm amber eyes that have watched you for moons, the faint scar along his jaw from a long-ago hunt.
âTarsem,â you whisper, âyou are leader now. The clan looks to you. You should choose a mate whoââ
He silences you with a gentle thumb to your lips.
âI have already chosen.â
Your heart stutters.
He reaches into the small pouch at his waist and draws out something wrapped in soft leaves. When he unfolds it, a songcord bead rests in his palmâcarved from the bone of his first kill, threaded with fibers dyed in the deep indigo of Omatikaya night skies, and inlaid with a single glowing seed from the Tree of Voices.
âI made this the night you allowed me to court you,â he says quietly. âI have carried it every day since, waiting for the right moment to give it to you.â
More tears spill freely now. âBut⊠there are othersâstronger, bolderââ
He shakes his head, stepping closer until you are pressed between him and the tree. âNone stronger than the one who sings healing into broken hearts. None bolder than the one who faces each day with quiet courage after all we lost.â His forehead rests against yours. âI see you. I have always seen you. There is no other.â
His hand guides yours to his chest, over his heart. âFeel this, yawne. It beats for you.â
You doâstrong, steady, true.
He links your queues thenâslow, deliberateâtsaheylu blooming bright and overwhelming. His love floods you: deep, certain, patient, fierce. No doubt. No hesitation. Only you.
When the bond settles into a warm hum, he kisses youâsoft at first, then deeper, claiming. His hands slide down your sides, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the hard evidence of his want pressed to your belly.
âHere,â he breathes against your lips. âNow. I want no more waiting.â
You nod, breathless, and he lifts you easilyâyour legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you gently back against the tree. Cloth falls away in urgent whispers; skin meets skin under the watchful glow of the forest.
He enters you slowly, eyes locked on yours, letting you feel every inch as he claims you fully for the first time. The bond sings with shared pleasureâhis low groan echoing in your mind, your gasp and moan answering in his.
When you come, it is togetherâquiet cries muffled against each otherâs necks, bodies trembling in perfect unison.
After, he holds you thereâstill joined, still linkedâforehead to forehead in the old way.
âYou are my mate,â he whispers, voice rough with emotion. âMy love. My heart, always. The clan will see what I have seen all along.â
You smile through happy tears, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
âI see you, Tarsem. Oloâeyktan. My love.â
He kisses you againâslow, reverent, promising.
And high in the branches of Hometree, beneath Eywaâs gentle guidance, the new Oloâeyktan seals his choiceânot with ceremony or announcement, but with the quiet, unbreakable truth of two hearts finally, fully entwined.
hi i'm still thinking about how after jake went to crash site after the mangkwan raid on the wind traders there was a decent chunk of time where jake absolutely thought his entire family was dead and it was all his fault
Jake never thought something so small could make him this nervous.
He sat cross-legged outside the marui, your little girl between his knees, the early evening light spilling warm gold through the leaves. In his large hands was a thin section of her soft hair, dark and still a little wild from playing all day.
Too small.
That was the problem.
Everything about this felt too small.
The beads.
The strands.
The careful movements he was trying not to mess up.
His fingers, used to bows and reins and weapons, hovered awkwardly.
ââŠyou sure about this?â he muttered.
You leaned against the entrance, arms folded, smiling. âJake, you led a whole people into war. I think you can handle a braid.â
Heâd started saying it before she even understood words.
He carefully separated the strands again, tongue pressing briefly to his upper teeth in focus. His ears were angled back, tail flicking with quiet concentration.
âThis how it goes?â he asked.
âOther side first,â you corrected gently. âThen cross.â
He tried.
It slipped.
He groaned under his breath. âEywa help meâŠâ
You pushed off the doorway and stepped closer, placing your hands over his for a moment, guiding. âSlow, Jake. Sheâs not going anywhere.â
He followed your movements, gentler this time. More patient.
And slowly⊠it began to take shape.
Not perfect.
But real.
Your daughter went quiet, trusting him completely, small hands resting in her lap.
Something in Jakeâs chest tightened.
Heâd held weapons before heâd ever held anything fragile.
Now here he was, afraid of pulling too hard on a braid.
âNever thought Iâd mess this up,â he murmured.
You smiled softly. âYouâre not.â
âI mean⊠mess up her,â he corrected, nodding slightly to your daughter. âIâm always scared Iâm gonna do somethinâ wrong.â
You knelt beside him. âYou love her. That already makes you better than you think.â
His fingers stilled.
He looked at you, then back down at the small head in front of him.
âHey, sweetheart,â he said quietly.
She hummed in response.
âYou know⊠when I was a kid, I didnât have this. Stuff like this. Someone sittinâ with me. Touchinâ my hair. Beinâ⊠gentle.â His voice roughened. âDidnât think I needed it.â
He swallowed.
âTurns out I just didnât know what it felt like.â
Your chest tightened.
He finished the braid carefully, tying a tiny bead at the end. It glowed faintly in the dusk.
There.
Done.
He stared at it like heâd built something sacred.
ââŠI did it,â he whispered, almost to himself.
You laughed quietly. âYou did.â
Your daughter twisted a little, reaching up to touch it.
âPretty,â she said.
Jake froze.
Then his face crumpled in the softest way.
He let out a breath that shook.
âYeah?â he murmured. âYou like it?â
She nodded.
That was it.
He pulled her back gently against his chest, careful of the braid, arms wrapping around her small body like he was afraid the world might reach in and take her.
You watched as he pressed his forehead to the top of her head, eyes closing.
For a moment, he wasnât Toruk Makto.
He wasnât oloâeyktan.
He was just a father who had braided his daughterâs hair.
âLove you, baby girl,â he whispered. âMore than anything.â
You moved closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at you, eyes warm, full.
âHey,â he said softly. âThanks⊠for givinâ me her. For givinâ me this life.â
You smiled. âYou built it too.â
He leaned in and kissed you gently.
Behind you, the forest glowed brighter as night began to fall.
And for once, the great warrior of Pandora was worried about nothing more than a braid too small for his hands.
