#And even if they were only foraging. Like. If you love the earth and care for it (and not clear it) the earth will love you back idk

[queers4years]

Indigenous Hawaiians really had a good system going: wake up reaaally early and do most of the days work while it's cool and by the time the sun was up and it got hot the work was done and you're free to surf and socialize. I wish the white people realized they themselves could work smarter and not harder and get time to relax. Instead of calling Hawaiians lazy (and being genocidal about it)

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 4

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 6.3k

read on ao3

“You are very loud.”

You heard this after placing a few fruits in your new bag. You found Neytiri up on a branch, looking down at you with a semi-annoyed and semi-light expression.

“I didn’t even say anything.” You frowned, turning to walk back to the compound.

Neytiri jumped down from the branch—surprisingly not making a sound—and followed you. “You did not have to.”

She then came up next to you and kicked your ankle.

“Ow.”

“You walk loud. Attracting creatures to you.” Neytiri pointed at your feet—or rather your shoes. “If you keep going into the forest then you must be quiet. With your feet and body.”

Your brows raised at this, “Really? Hmm. I’ll try to remember that.” Perhaps you would start walking through the forest with no shoes on, they were a bother anyway. You won’t miss it too much. Plus, being barefoot wasn’t all that much of a difference. Back on Earth, you would’ve loved to walk around the world with just your feet. But with everything dying and sick, you always kept yourself protected. Earth wasn’t much of a safe place anymore.

Much less a home.

While your mind whirred on with different ideas and plans for your garden and future attempts at foraging, you continued your way back to the compound, still with Neytiri following after you, noticeably a lot quieter in her step than you were. You cringed.

Maybe she did have a point about that after all.

You glanced over your shoulder at her and frowned, “Was that all you came for, or is there a point to this visit?”

Her ears fluttered, “I check to see if you are not making a mess.”

You huffed, “Gee, thanks.”

As the compound finally came into view, Neytiri ran ahead of you toward your mushrooms’ new spot. On her back, you noticed was a sling of sorts, and sitting in it was a baby.

Usually, you didn’t pay too much attention to babies—but this one was particularly familiar. It was a bit foggy, but you were sure you remembered him sleeping in that very sling before. And someone else was holding him at the time.

Only this time, the baby stared right back at you when your eyes met his yellow ones.

Cautiously, you stood next to Neytiri who was busily crouched down to examine your mushrooms. The baby had yet to stop staring at you.

You shuffled, hugging your tablet to your chest, “That baby yours?”

At the question, Neytiri looked up at you and then at the baby she carried, a free gentle smile tugging at her lips upon looking at him. “Yes. His name is Neteyam.”

You nodded and the baby, Neteyam, smiled at his mother and then looked back at you with the same curious yet innocent eyes. “Hello, Neteyam.”

Of course, he probably didn’t understand you—but it would’ve been awkward for you not to acknowledge him—especially with him staring straight at you at all times. But then again, you didn’t know whether or not the natives wanted you to interact with their younglings, so greeting him shortly and as politely as you could was the best option.

Indulge them—like you would any other human baby a parent forced you to acknowledge back on Earth. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough for them. They would keep pestering and cooing at you to hold them, even though you’d express very clearly that you were not comfortable holding one.

A pureness like that didn’t belong in hands like yours.

Instead of pestering you, Neytiri eyed you for a moment, like she expected something, before turning her attention back to the mushrooms. “Your crops are good. Take great care of them and they will grow well for you.”

“It’s only been a couple of days since I moved it. But yeah, you’re right. They’ve definitely gotten better. Thank you again.”

It was your turn to examine her now. Neytiri didn’t look much older than you—or maybe you were older, you couldn’t tell. One thing you did know was that you were sure that she didn’t like you before—well, your species. Same as that clan leader, Tsu’tey. Now, you wondered why she was willingly helping you with the garden.

Now, you were wondering if this was related to the first time you met her. The very first time.

When she watched you nearly die.

Your eyes glanced toward Neteyam again, who was snuggled into his mother’s chest, eyes drooping close. Honestly, you were surprised at how calm he was. Hadn’t made a peep or a cry once. In the back of your mind—the scientist part of you wondered if all Na’vi babies were like that.

Eventually, you moved away from the mushrooms, adjusting your bag of fruits you nearly forgotten. “I’ll harvest the fruits later today, um, first I’m heading to my mother’s burial.” You then frowned, remembering Tsu’tey’s warning—although mirky. You can’t forget the way his scowl seared into your skull, tattooing itself onto your mind. “Would that cause any problems?”

“No.” Neytiri adjusted the sling careful not to disturb the nearly asleep Neteyam. “But I will go with you. You are still too loud.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother to protest.

Mixed with exhaustion and spending most of your day foraging, you didn’t have the energy to fight her about it. Besides, last time she was with you, it wasn’t too bad. Better than her than random warriors watching you with severe gazes. Like you were about to attack them and not the other way around.

You weren’t entirely sure what to do about her son. Even though he was near asleep, you supposed you’d possibly get used to his presence as time rolled on.

Judging from your memory, it took a few minutes for you to find your mother’s burial. It was a good long way away from Hell’s Gate, that you definitely remembered. Mostly because you were counting the time in how much oxygen you had left in your mask.

When you found the familiar lump in the ground and the flowers surrounding it, you quietly sat down in front of it while taking your mother’s songcord from around your right wrist and holding it in your hands The size looked different in your blue palms compared to your human ones.

Neytiri sat down a couple of feet away from you, cradling the sling and Neteyam in her arms, humming a gentle tune to the infant. You found yourself watching the two in a faraway daze until you noticed a beaded necklace attached to Neytiri’s waist.

You nodded to it, “Do you have a songcord?”

She looked at you and nodded, “For my son. And another for my mates.”

You nodded, slightly intrigued. “I didn’t know Na’vi weren’t monogamous.”

There were some aspects you knew of the Na’vi—you weren’t totally in the dark about some things. Like the mates part. You weren’t entirely informed about it, but all you did know was that mating was common among them. Joan’s videos mentioned it once and didn’t go into too much detail. Not even researchers understand most of it.

So you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you guys often have more than one mate?” Neytiri’s ears flicked, a reluctant look on her face. You frowned at this, “You don’t have to tell me—”

She shook her head, “The Great Mother will give us one and sometimes more. She decides. And we listen.”

The Eywa bit was still a bit confusing to you—but you weren’t going to touch on that quite yet—perhaps that would be something else that could distract you later on.

Instead, you focused on her songcord, “How do you make those?”

Neteyam squirmed in the sling, his little tail swishing against Neytiri’s stomach. She caressed the side of his head to calm him, “You must understand our way before you make one.”

“I doubt your people would like that.” You scoffed as you tied your mother’s songcord back onto your wrist—this time the left. “Much less that Tsu’tey.”

“He is protective of us. Of his people.” Neytiri defended with a frown. “He is our Olo’eyktan, I do not fault him for being that way. And you are an outsider. You should not be here.”

You hummed, “So I’ve heard.”

Neytiri stared at you. And you stared back until you dropped your gaze back down to the songcord.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were aware of your tail moving behind you. Swishing back and forth against the forest floor. Neteyam giggled and Neytiri, speaking in her native tongue, spoke to the infant in such adoration, that it was almost startling to you.

Your ears twitched toward them.

Surprisingly, the baby’s sounds were somewhat comforting. Easing the tenseness in your muscles.

Neytiri then spoke after a long pause, “What would your songcord say? If you make one. If I taught you how.”

You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, “You said they’re for remembering, right? To be honest, it’d be too sad.”

Neytiri’s frown deepened which confused you, “Life is not one moment. Your—grief for your mother is forever but life does not stop moving.”

You winced. And she was staring at you again—god, she did that a lot. Her intense gaze drilled into the side of your head but you instead focused on the flowers surrounding your mother’s burial. Vibrant, just as your mother was.

“She was all I had.” You mumbled numbly while glaring at the lump in the ground. “How can something that was so permanent in your life suddenly be gone? How can you move on from that?”

Neytiri’s tail lashed behind her, “I never said you do. It is just the way of life.”

“Well, life’s shit.”

Surprisingly, Neytiri smiled. This time it was directed toward you. “You sound like Jake.”

“Hmm, he sounds somewhat smart then.”

Neytiri noticed you did not smile even when you made the joke.

You gently ran your fingers along the lump and soil of the ground. And for a moment, it was just you and your mother. Never mind that Neytiri was there with you, never mind the strange new world you were now trapped in. Right now, it was just the both of you.

“I’ve always wanted to come to Pandora.” You said to no one in particular. “With her. It was our dream. Then she went without me and….now I’m here. In the place of my dreams, the place I’ve always daydreamed about since I was a child—and I still can’t move. I feel so heavy. Even when I get up, even when I distract my scorpion-filled mind, I still feel like going back to bed and staying there until the world forgets about me.” You snorted bitterly, clutching the soil between your fingers. “Instead, I would rather be the shadow of my mother’s tombstone instead of going forward. How sad is that?”

And then there was the exhaustion. This heavyweight kept you rooted to the ground, even when you wanted to fly away into the clouds. The ground would swallow you whole instead.

“It is sad,” Neytiri spoke up, drawing you a bit out of your drowning thoughts. Even then you still felt like you were underwater. Like it was endless. Her voice was almost a muffled sound barely reaching your water-filled ears. “Being sad is okay. There is no need to hide it or ignore it. It is the way we are. We have loss. That is a very unfortunate truth for all of us.”

You made an absent sound of agreement, gaze never leaving the burial. Still not entirely there. Still not entirely human yet. “I still wonder if it’s worth it, you know? The loneliness—it’s the loneliness, I can’t take it sometimes…”

Something in your eyes ached, your throat feeling tight until you finally caught yourself. You glanced toward Neytiri who was—as expected—still watching you. This time with a familiar look in her eyes. Understanding and something else. Something you despised.

You felt stupid then.

Opening up to a stranger. Asking for pity from someone who probably went through a lot worse than you? Neytiri—as far as your knowledge of the war a year ago went—had lost her people and home. Who were you to even ask for her sympathy? For her pity?

It was so pathetic.

With that, you straightened your back and turned your gaze away from her, your walls slowly building themselves back up out of obsessive protection. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” You got to your feet, pissed at yourself, still avoiding Neytiri’s look.

Something about this area.

It always left you too vulnerable.

“I should go harvest some of the plants now…” You gave a jerkish nod to Neytiri. “I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t wait for a response as you began your journey back to the compound.

Neytiri returned to the village, deciding to keep today’s events to herself.

It wasn’t something to speak about yet. Not to Jake. Not to Tsu’tey.

Not yet.

“There you are.” Jake smiled toward her and Neteyam in greeting as she entered their shared hut. Neteyam instantly reached for him and Jake took the little one in his arms, face alight with warmth and love as he held his son close to him.

Neytiri found herself smiling in relief and adoration at the sight as she took a seat on the floor. There was a sense of comfort and ease whenever she came back home to her mates and child. Even with today’s events, she felt her tense muscles relax a bit just as in this simple scene. At Jake’s love for their child. For their firstborn.

“Where did you take him this time?” Jake asked, looking up at her with the same adoration.

“To the Sky Person. She has a false body now.” Neytiri responded honestly, putting her bow down. She noticed her songcord tied to her loincloth and stared at it in particular.

A surprised look crossed his face, “You went to see her?”

She frowned in confusion at his reaction, “Yes.”

“And?” Jake watched her reaction curiously.

Neytiri noticed this and she, for a moment, while watching her son tug at one of Jake’s locks, considered her words carefully.

“It is sad. Very sad, Ma’Jake.” And that was all she offered. Jake just looked at her, the comfortable smile now gone and instead replaced with a contemplative frown. She then leaned toward him curiously, “What do you think of her? You were like her once. You understand their emotions and their way of expression better than most.”

Jake’s ears twitched and moved his gaze down. It wasn’t avoidant but thoughtful as she spoke, “Besides the obvious, she found out her mother just died, so there’s not much mystery to her reactions there. I understand it…and I, well, I didn’t exactly do a great job at empathizing before. If anything, I probably only made things worse when it came to her.” He winced as if he were remembering something—an expression that had become very common these days when it came to him. “Other than that, I can’t get a read on her. And I don’t know if that’s unsettling or not.”

“She is much easier to read in her false body,” Neytiri added thoughtfully, patting down a rebellious strand of hair on her son’s head, watching him nuzzle himself into his father’s chest. “Perhaps you should talk to her as well—my mother seems to believe her and Eywa, she has favored her for a reason. I want to understand why.”

He snorted, “I don’t know if we should even be left in a room alone together.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. One of us might kill each other.”

Neytiri gave him a look at his joke, “Then I would come to make sure you both behave.”

“I don’t know if behaving is the problem.”

Before Neytiri could question his comment, their attention immediately snapped to the two figures now entering their hut. Tsu’tey being one of them with a relaxed smile on his face as he greeted them, “Ma yawne!” He approached Neytiri first, wrapping her in his arms from behind, one hand resting on her stomach. “How is our little one?”

Tsu’tey also seemed more relieved and at ease as soon as he entered their shared home. It was like a safe place for them. Away from clan duties, away from the Sky People, away from the world entirely.

She smiled, leaning further into his hold, “Strong, like his Papa.”

“Good, good.” He held her and her stomach a while longer before moving toward Jake and Neteyam.

Glancing over her shoulder, Neytiri frowned when she saw Artsut standing at the entryway of their hut—looking disapproving as usual. And with that, Neytiri took to ignoring her, turning her attention back to her mates. Focusing on her comfort.

Tsu’tey was now holding Neteyam while Jake gently squeezed the former’s spot between his neck and shoulder—the very rare physical affection that he would only show around herself and Tsu’tey. Another strong difference between the Sky People and her people. They weren’t as carefree with affection as her people were. Just another way of reserving their emotions that Neytiri didn’t quite understand.

Silently, Neytiri decided that this was too good of a moment to ruin. That the Sky Person who could not smile would have to wait for now. She decided this, even though she could not stop thinking about you.

But of course, Artsut could not let things simply be.

“The time to find your last mate is nearing.” Artsut huffed, nose turned upward. She stared down at the small family as if they were a small bug she could step on. “There will be no more time wasted on this, son. It is time to begin choosing.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. Tsu’tey sighed. And Neytiri continued ignoring her.

“We’ve just had Neteyam and have another on the way,” Tsu’tey responded patiently, pressing a gentle kiss to their son’s head. “Let us be grateful for this. There is no rush—”

“I will not be at rest until you are fully accepted by Eywa—”

“And how do you know we aren’t?” Tsu’tey’s voice was calm. Dangerously so. Neytiri could see he was seconds away from snapping. With his duties as Olo’eyktan and now his mother’s constant badgering on a knowingly sensitive subject was just about it.

Artsut hissed, “How do you know that you are? Considering you’re mated with a demon, it barely makes up for—”

“Mother, I warn you.” Tsu’tey snapped his eyes glaring over Neytiri’s head at the older woman.

But she continued with venom practically dripping from her tongue. “I want a true grandson of our blood! I will not accept any more of your half-breeds—”

“That’s enough!” Jake hissed as he shot to his feet before Neytiri could stop him—face roaring with vibrant rage. Jake wasn’t an expressive man. So him losing his resolve so quickly at that, was quite startling whenever it did happen.

Neytiri stood, grabbing his arm to try and calm him. They should not allow this woman to get to them. She was already used to the older woman’s attitude toward herself and her mother. So, Neytiri was all too familiar with how poisonous she was. How vicious her words could get. Even against her own sons, Arvok specifically.

Now Artsut was angered, hissing at Jake—looking extremely similar to Tsu’tey just then. “Will you allow this, son!? The Demon speaks this way to your own mother and you won’t—”

“Neytiri.” At the call of her name, she turned to find Tsu’tey now on his feet as well, offering Neteyam to her. She took her son in her arms as he turned and stalked toward his mother, “Outside. Now.”

Tsu’tey had always been a severe man. But always particularly patient with his mother. Usually, Artsut would listen to him—because he was her golden child—but these days she has been way too on edge. Way too reckless with her words.

Once they were gone, Neytiri guided Jake to sit back on the floor. Squeezing his arm gently while rocking Neteyam in her arms. “Do not let her words get to you, Ma’Jake. She will always be like this, she will never change. We must learn to keep the peace on our side, out of respect for our mate.”

Jake’s ears were pinned to the sides of his head, letting out a breath of anger and exhaustion. “How can she expect us to find another mate with her in the picture? I almost don’t want another one because of that woman.”

Neytiri shook her head, smiling sadly. “We cannot deny our duties, ma tiyawn. All we can do is pray the Great Mother sends us someone who is strong. Who will not let Artsut’s poison sink into their skin.”

The next day came. In your human form, you followed Norm to the amino tank room. The last time you had been here was when you met up with Jake—a bitter memory you wished was as muffled as your meeting with Mo’at.

You just couldn’t find yourself wanting to go back to that night. To all of it. It was bad enough that some of their words still stuck with you.

A lost cause.

She’ll be out of the way.

Demon.

As usual, you shook off these memories or thoughts and kept going.

Apparently, Norm often performed weekly check-ups on the unused avatars. Making sure they were still healthy and taken care of with no complications because even if they happened to be unused, they still needed tending to.

“Why not just get rid of them?” You questioned as you studied the stats of one of the avatars. This one had an ugly jagged scar across his face. “Most of these won’t be used anyway. It could save a lot of resources.”

“It would be a waste of resources and money actually if we did get rid of them” Norm frowned from across the room, not looking up from his own tablet. “At the end of the day, they’re still a living being. We can’t just kill them. It’s—it’s inhumane.”

You didn’t have a good response to that so you moved on to the next avatar. Which you recognized as the one that belonged to the late Dr. Augustine. It was a bit morbid, actually. Staring at a comatose avatar with the face belonging to someone who was dead.

You desperately hoped your mother’s wasn’t here. F it was, if you discovered it first before Norm, you’d burn it yourself.

“How are you doing today?” Norm suddenly asked. “Any progress on the garden?”

You didn’t look up from your tablet as you responded simply, “The mushrooms are growing well enough. Neytiri gave me some advice and it’s helped a lot. Just taking it day by day. The progress is being watched closely.”

After a pause, Norm nodded, “Good. That’s good—you know, I’m tryna work on my empathy. We scientists often get too caught up in the work to stop and consider human feelings. Believe it or not, I was a lot more insensitive a year ago.”

“Really.” You deadpanned, completely uninterested in where the conversation was going. Carefully, you examined Augustine’s body, which was as expected in perfect condition. There was something about the stomach though—

“It’s true!” Norm continued as if he hadn’t heard your complete uninterest. “I was absolutely awful before. I couldn’t stand Jake at first because of it. It’s honestly a wonder that Trudy—uh…” You glanced up briefly when he suddenly faltered. There was a familiar look on his face. Somber and grim. “—it’s a wonder anyone would have gone for me. Would’ve liked me despite all of that, you know? Those people are a rare find. Like a jewel.”

For a moment, you watched him quietly and frowned. Norm didn’t meet your eyes as he moved toward another tank with his back now turned to you.

After finishing up on Augustine’s avatar, you moved to another tank as well.

A beat went by before you added, “You’re fine, Norm. Thanks for asking.”

At that, Norm turned to you with a startled surprise, “Really? Wow, I half expected a sarcastic comment. S’nice that I’m wrong though.”

You shrugged, “You were probably the only one here that wasn’t against me, which was nice of you. You didn’t have to do it but you did. Even if I was mildly difficult.”

“Mildly difficult isn’t how I would put it.” Norm chuckled a bit.

“Fine. Maybe an asshole.”

Norm laughed, which was a light little sound in the quiet room. “No, you are an asshole, just not for your reaction to everything.”

“Ah, well, I feel a lot better then.”

Neytiri didn’t come back until a week later when your first mushroom started to show.

You were relieved for the progress and how well they were doing. So much so, that you couldn’t help but want to pick more of Neytiri’s brain. Learning from an actual native was infinitely a lot better than looking at a book—although it was a good foundation—it didn’t beat the real thing.

So when she came out of the forest with her bow in hand as usual—and no Neteyam in sight this time around—your brain was already buzzing with more questions for her, your tail swishing a little behind you.

“This is good.” She nodded, careful not to step on your crops. “Have you planted more?”

You nodded, oblivious to her watching your tail both curiously and intently as it continued swishing against your leg. “Yes, all of them are situated so that the sun is directly on them when it comes out and when it sets—but what do you guys do if it rains? Any coverings I need to know of?”

She nodded, “Yes. After I tell you, I want to show you something in the forest.”

With a frown, you watched as she began examining some of the fruits carefully, her nose scrunching every now and then. “What is it though?”

The scowl she sent you was surprising and you half expected her to hiss an insult at you. Instead, she said, “I won’t tell you now. You will know when I take you. Now be quiet and listen.”

You watched her in surprise, trying to figure out what it was that she wanted to show you. Or why she wanted to lead you into the forest alone. A stupid part of you thought she was probably going to lead you into a trap and kill you—solve the stain on their land by her own hand.

But the more sensible part of you just did as you were told and crouched down next to Neytiri as she began explaining some ways to continue nourishing the mushrooms while also covering them from changing weather without causing any unnecessary damage to the forest.

She also helped with planting a few more seeds that you had left. Physically adjusting and guiding your hands whenever you patted the soil to cover the seed or when you were a little too rough with the plants.

Gardening in itself was relaxing, you had never known that to be true until you had done it with Neytiri. Sure, you took care of a forest that sometimes required a lot of replanting for trees and different plants, but you were never physically out there yourself. You were always surrounded by screens and giving orders from a lab, wearing long white coats and goggles—you weren’t really ever among nature. Not really.

When you first started redoing the garden, it was just a task to keep you distracted. To keep your body busy and moving instead of stiff and motionless.

But now? Well, you weren’t entirely sure what this feeling was yet. All you did know was that you wanted to keep doing this. And that it didn’t seem like much of a hassle anymore. But instead, something you actually looked forward to.

Plus, you were strangely getting used to Neytiri’s presence. Or more like expecting her in your somewhat structured schedule.

You were grateful for her help the past couple of weeks, even if there was still a small question resting in the back of your mind. Left unanswered for now.

Once the two of you were finished, Neytiri led you away from the compound and into the forest. Halfway through the journey, you started watching her movements, noticing how different they were compared to your stiffness. She was fluid, her steps quiet along the forest floor, against the tree barks you stepped over, and in the small creeks, her feet splashed through. Almost like she was one with the forest.

Then there was you. You looked down at your own feet, remembering how she said you had been too loud trudging through the forest on your own. And that it could draw some unwanted attention your way if you weren’t careful.

So you stopped short and decided to feed your scientist brain as you took off your shoes, leaving your blue feet bare to the forest, similar to Neytiri. You then looked up, watching Neytiri move as she continued forward. Quietly, you began mimicking her movements as you followed her. Not perfectly of course, but enough for her to hear a shift in your step causing her to glance back at you with a furrow in her brow.

When you were younger, you had made a game out of it, out of sheer boredom. Your mother had been rushing around her lab working—too busy to give you attention. And you, to keep yourself preoccupied would mimicked her movements whenever she walked around the lab. You’d follow her for hours without her knowing—mostly because your mother was one of those people who could be easily snuck up on—until one day she did and laughed at your antics.

“Well look at that!” Joan would grin. “I have my very own shadow now. I’ve always wanted one, but I didn’t expect her to be so small!”

“I’m not that small!” You would whine.

You stopped short after climbing over a fallen large tree, Neytiri was already on the other side of it, watching you carefully. When you landed next to her, she poked your legs with her bow, “Still too loud.”

“Well, it is my first day after all.” You half-joked, trying not to pant in front of her to show your lack of athletic ability.

Her ears flicked but she didn’t say anything more on it. She continued forward, still glancing back at you from time to time as you followed and continued mimicking her the best you could.

It wasn’t until you recognized some of the trail did you realized where she was leading you. Too distracted by your own antics, you hadn’t stopped to realize or wonder why Neytiri was leading you to your mother’s burial. Before you could ask, the burial finally came into view.

And you stopped, the words falling back down your throat, your mind going blank.

Surrounding your mother’s grave were a bunch of new beautiful flowers. Not only that but a bunch of atokirina were floating around it. There was something heavenly and pure about the scene, something so moving, something so vulnerable—

Neytiri waited at your side, her eyes glittered with delight as she watched your dumbfounded expression.

“What is all of this?” You finally asked, inching closer to the burial. You almost didn’t want to get too close, afraid you’d ruin whatever was going on around it.

Smiling, Neytiri grabbed your arm and guided you down to sit. One of the atokirina floated its way toward the two of you. It didn’t land on you as you expected, instead, it just floated there. As if it was meant for the both of you.

Finally, Neytiri spoke, “I had discovered it the day before. It had a lot more atokirina here but it seems some of them had stayed long enough for you to see it. It was like she had wanted me to bring you here, just so you could see the Great Mother’s work.”

“Eywa?” You raised your brows curiously, looking from the atokirina to Neytiri, “What work did she do exactly?”

The dandelion-looking weed floated toward Neytiri, who had her palm open for it to land. It grazed her palm before floating off. “When I asked the Tsahik she said it meant that your mother now rests with Eywa

Even if you weren’t entirely familiar with their deity, you knew enough about spirituality and religion to understand what exactly Neytiri meant.

And you were speechless—no unsure of your words. What was the proper response to something like this? Should you be happy? Should you be sad? It seemed that Neytiri believed it was a good thing your mother was accepted by this Eywa.

At the end of the day, your mother was still gone but this was—nice. Sad but nice. Like a funeral should be. Like her funeral should’ve been.

In the corner of your eye, Neytiri ducked her head down a bit to get a better look at your reaction, “Do you not like it?”

“I do—yeah.” You assured with a nod, your tail swishing back and forth. “It’s—it’s a lot better than our idea of a funeral, I guess.”

“You Sky People—you do not have burials like this.” It was more of a statement than a question as Neytiri spoke. She looked back at the burial with a small frown, “Ma’Jake told me this, that his people burn their bodies when they have passed.”

You nodded grimly, gaze cast down to look at your mother’s songcord that was still wrapped around your wrist. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Your way is cold. Your people are cold.”

Again you nodded, “Yeah, we are.”

Neytiri then shook her head, “You are not cold.”

You had no response to that. Instead, you thumbed the beads on the songcord, “This seems like a bead-worthy moment. This burial.”

“Yes. It can be.”

After another long pause, you finally looked at Neytiri. Really looked at her. The question burning at the forefront of your mind.

“You put the mask back on me, didn’t you? When I first arrived. When you killed DeVoe.” You frowned. “You had no reason to save me. I am just another Sky Person to you, so why?”

Neytiri’s ears fluttered, “Why save you?”

“Yeah. Why save me?”

She frowned and stared at your mother’s grave thoughtfully.

“Your spirit is different. I could not kill such a thing, not when Eywa herself had chosen it.”

You hummed, “Huh, that clears things up.”

“You do not believe me?” Neytiri frowned at your reaction, clearly not used to your deadpan sarcasm.

A part of you was amused at that, “No, I believe you.” With that, you stood, stretching your limps. Wiggling your toes on the soft forest floor. “But thank you again. You didn’t have to show me this but you did, for whatever reason.” You dusted off your shorts, “And here I thought you hated me.”

Neytiri stood as well, grabbing her bow from off the ground as she did, “I do not like your people. But I do not hate you—I feel nothing for you.”

“Is…that a good thing?”

She blinked, “I have not killed you yet. So, yes.”

Your ears twitched upward, just slightly, “Good to know.”

You returned to the compound alone later that day, feeling just a little less heavy than before.

Neytiri could not stop thinking about your face. She began to wonder if you ever smiled. What would it look like?

Norm and you were back in the tank room the next day. Norm was mumbling about preparing for the week ahead and something about cleaning up one of the bio labs after a spill—you didn’t listen entirely to know why or how there was a spill.

But you didn’t mind it by now. Nearly a month here and you had a lot to do. Anything to keep you away from your bedroom for a while. Anything to just keep moving.

So if that meant listening to Norm’s rambles every other week, you were fine with that.

“I’m gonna be surrounded by a bunch of Na’vi kids this upcoming week.” He informed from the tank next to you. “I could use the extra help—”

“Kids aren’t really my forte.” You mumbled, moving toward Augustine’s avatar. “Plus, I got to watch my garden. My mushrooms are finally getting somewhere thanks to Neytiri—I don’t want to risk leaving them unwatched. Even if it is for a couple of hours.”

“Ah,” Norm hummed, looking up at you with both an impressed and amused smirk. “that’s right, Neytiri has been coming around a lot. Usually, she’d only come if Jake were here—and those days are rare themself.”

“So you understand my reasoning.” You nodded, briefly looking up at him. “I can’t miss a day over here. For both my garden and the fact that I don’t particularly feel like angering someone who could tear my head off if she wanted to.”

Norm snorted, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Plus, I have a feeling the kids’ll be too scared of your intense mug. Avatar and human.”

You gave him a look, “Sure, and I’m the asshole out of the two of us.”

“Oh, you definitely are.”

Norm laughed while you turned your attention back to Augustine’s avatar. Only, you frowned when something came up on your tablet. Strange stats that you were sure you were probably reading wrong. You double-checked a couple of times, just to make sure.

Maybe you hadn’t gotten any sleep. Yes, you were hallucinating strangely detailed stats because of your lack of sleep. Yes, that was it.

That was when you got a better look at the avatar.

“Spellman.”

“Yeah?”

“Come over here.”

A few seconds later, Norm appeared next to you, “What is it?”

You gestured to Augustine’s avatar, “There’s something there, in her stomach.”

Norm took your tablet and examined it. Silent. You watched his brows furrow together then suddenly morph into unmistakable shock.

“This…this isn’t possible.”

You took the tablet from him far too confused yourself. “Does the facility own an ultrasound anywhere?”

finally got this written out lol. sorry for the long wait, last week was just crazy busy for me which left me very little time to write.

but now i've got the fourth chapter for you guys. as usual, let me know what you think!

as you can see, it all starts with neytiri hehehe. i wonder if jake and tsu'tey will follow along because of this...

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthings @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird

[volturissideslut]

What if the Humans adopt a child just to see what’s so special about humans and why the Cullens like them so much, not knowing how troublesome a 8 year old can be?

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

strap in because this is going to be one hell of a ride (also I'm assuming asker meant volturi adopt a chaotic human child)

Aro, ever the curious one, cannot even fathom why dear Carlisle cares so much for these... creatures

And it's been like over 3000 years since he was human and he can't really remember much about living

It would also help if it would stop making Marcus be such a miserable slab of stone, and perhaps even Caius could do with a new toy

It just seemed like destiny when an 8 year old child strayed from the feeding group one day, too entertained by chasing a fat tabby cat that had jumped the wall to the garden

Whatever parent or guardian that came with seemingly hadn't noticed - not that they were alive long enough too

And, of course, Felix was the one to deliver the child to Master Aro considering he's the only one with a modium of decorum or respect for life in the castle

Any of the other guards would have eaten you on sight to be honest (they wouldn't in the future but you're just some random human child right now, they don't care about you yet)

Aro takes one look at you're little form, sticky fingers; muddy knees; grazed elbows; a leaf in your hair

Perfect

They're keeping you

easy, right?

wrong

Why is a overexcited yet hysterical human child such a lovable inconvenience, you may ask

well

1) none of them can fully keep track of you're emotions,why are children so confusing???

2) they can't fully keep track of your whereabout either

"HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET OF THE ROOF YOU HEATHEN CHILD" - Caius probably

3) they know nothing, and I mean nothing, about humans. Expect them to ask the secratery for help next time you're sobbing, only to find out you're hungry because they haven't fed you a proper meal in days thinking you'd forage for it yourself

I swear Marcus is the only one who is knowledgeable, despite how small it is

"the child requires sustinence again" - Jane, fed up of this shit

4) they're used to the traumatic stuff of vampire life, you are not, they don't realise that

poor kid is gonna be so traumatised, by the age of 10 killing someone over cereal seems socially acceptable

At least Caius actually has a soft spot for you, otherwise you'd be dead dead by now

Marcus reads you bedtime stories

Aro wants you to grow up appreciating everything he does, there are many 'daddy/daughter dates' where he takes you to see plays, musicals, concerts, or whatever that he deems suitable

Caius pretends to be impressed with your drawings and fakes excitement at whatever lego monstrosity you've made

Alec shows you the world, taking you around on his days off to Scotland, Brazil, India or wherever you randomly point to on a map

Felix let's you use his cloak as a blanket when he's not using it, you like to play with it and use it for dens and pillow forts (it can also be used as one of those massive fabric parachute tent bubble thingys the class played with in nursery/FS1/kindergarten and hid under (you know what I'm talking about))

Demitri let's you win at hide and seek despite his gift letting him know where you are at all times. He is also not above pretending to play to keep you out the way and quiet for a solid five minutes before you come out giggling saying you won again

Jane will capture butterflies and set them free with you because she knows you love them and you also love to chase them

The queen's are always dressing you up like a doll and doing your hair, they basically get a list from the secratery of everything humans need (food, water, socialising etc) and fulfil those needs for you

The secratery is the only one who actually knows what you want and need most times, being human herself. The kings are seriously considering turning her instead of just killing her you your sake

And God forbid anyone touches their precious baby, you've grown on them and they'd burn the world for you in an instant

[fleurriee]

— here with you ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; sometimes, things can just get too much for you - especially when you feel like the entire world is against you. but, it isn’t, because neteyam’s there, and he’ll always be there.

word count ; 7.2k

themes ; angst, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; death of parents, panic/anxiety attacks...

author’s note ; these requests are always taking me so long & im so sorry about that,, i guess i just want them to be perfect, so i then get kinda scared to start them.. but i loved this one, so tysm for requesting!! this was also a bit sadder than i think either of you wanted but this plot came to me the instance i read these sososososo <33 i also want to say that im in no way trying to romanticise these particular situations & if it’s coming across that way, please let me know and help me understand how i can change it <3 requested & requested

main masterlist request a fic!

Standing side by side, yourself and Neteyam stood tall and proud, for once no eyes upon the two of you, but the ceremony playing out before you. You were next to the rest of Neteyam’s family, too, each of them paying close attention to those in front of them.

At the very front of the entire clan stood two Na’vi, face to face with beaming smiles upon their features, eyes never once leaving one another’s as they started to speak their vows to one another, but also to the Great Mother herself. It was their mating ceremony, one that had been planned for a few weeks now, and the entire clan had come together in order to celebrate such a special day alongside them.

Even you can see it’s a beautiful, such ethereality emanating around you and pulsing with life, as if the earth around you could feel the happiness on top, too, wanting to join in and feel the same things. Bioluminescent fauna had been plucked by foragers and strung up all around the area, flickering on and off with a heartbeat of life, and creating an effervescent glow that shone down on them. Platters of food that had been hunted, prepared and cooked beforehand were surrounding them, piled high with all sorts, but particularly the mate’s favourites, seeing as it was their day. And, the people - they were covered head to toe paint that represented the Omatikaya clan, flowers placed delicately into woven hair and beads hanging from their necks to signify their strength in the clan, in the union before them, relishing in the feeling over not only the couple coming together as one, but the entire clan, too.

The love that could be felt all around was encapsulating - it was hard to ignore from the moment it was announced they were to mate in a few weeks time, let alone the day it would be happening. It was obvious from where you were standing beside your own mate that they were meant to be together, that Ewya had chosen yet again another good match, and each and every one of the people were excited to see them grow.

And, you were happy for them, of course you were. You’d give anything to have others understand and experience the love you felt for Neteyam, because it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling. It was a feeling where all you really knew was him, one where he felt like your other half, like your soul had been split into two and given over to him to carry and hold onto you with the utmost care. He did the same thing with your heart, after all - always holding it close to his own, caressing it with gentle touches and soft kisses, constantly reminding you of the love he held for you, too, as you did the same with his heart in your own calloused hands.

But, despite repeatedly telling yourself that you weren’t going to do this today, that you were going to be happy and deal with your lingering emotions after the ceremony itself, you own reprimands didn’t work. It was their day, you should’ve been watching them, but they were standing too close for you to simply ignore…

It was always custom for both pairs of parents to be up their with their children whilst they were bonding before both Ewya and the clan, standing behind their children and watching with the proudest smiles possible. Loving eyes reflected down up them, some even shedding a few tears, smiles wide and ecstatic, no doubt their minds already how the rest of their lives were going to play out.

You heart broke at the sight of them, both pairs, all four individual parents, watching and smiling and just being there. As soon as your eyes settled on them, it was so difficult to get and move them away. The longer you stared, the more your resolve began to crack, piece by piece, until you were sure you were going to shatter.

Many years ago, when you were younger, just a small Na’vi child growing up in a clan that appreciated every one of its people, attempting to make a place for yourself in its vast expanses… your parents fatally died. It was during another war with the humans, the evilness coming back and spreading like a disease until it felt the tortuous need to take not only one, but both of your parents away from you. You’re not entirely sure what exactly killed them, refusing to ask, knowing it would only make you spiral down until you were too scared you’d never make your way back up, but you’d have a general idea, and that haunted you more often than you’d like to admit.

Because you were only a child - a child that needed their mother to show her what it was to be a woman, teach her the way of how to properly care for a family and their mate, but staying strong and fierce and protective; a child that needed their father to ensure she was always safe in the care of his arms, to teach her how to hunt and fight back whenever someone was mean, or stand her ground against those that wished her harm to her heart.

But, you’d barely gotten that far with them.

Your parents’ deaths had hit you harder than you could’ve ever anticipated - sure, it was always going to be a difficult journey you were forced to embark on, but not one would you have believed it would still be here now, keeping you awake some nights and feeling as though it was slowly going to tear you apart and ruin the life you’d somehow managed to make for yourself, without them.

For all your time with them, you had been so incredibly close, that when they died, it felt like a part of yourself had been ripped away with them, too; as though you now had a whole within your soul that you could never get back, that always stay missing. You were their only child - having never been given the opportunity of having more the way they’d wanted - so they were constantly doting on you, showing you their ways and becoming your bestest friends.

They weren’t just your parents - they were your people.

Throughout the beginning, people were always around you, sheltering you with careful hands like you were suddenly made of fragile glass; and, you guess you were, because one wrong word, and the floodgates would open and it would be incredibly difficult to force them closed again. So many people from your clan offered you their aid, allowing you their shoulders to cry on or to talk to them about whatever was bothering you, offering up their time and their patience and their advice, just so you could be a small semblance of normality for once. Even people you had never spoken to before had come up to you, offering you their condolences and reassuring you that it’ll eventually get better.

But, it hadn’t - not really. Even though you were doing okay, you were happy with a mate and his family, with a future held close to your heart that you were excited to explore… and yet, their memories still echoed within the confines of your mind, sometimes praising and doting on you, sometimes screaming and yelling at you. It felt like a never ending cycle, and you couldn’t tell if you wanted it to disappear, or keep it with you, just to hear their voices one last time, even if they were disappointed in you.

You appreciated everything the clan was doing for you throughout such a tough time, but you never took any of them up on their sweet offers. You knew each and every one of them meant what they’d said to you, that you were more than welcome inside their homes to talk, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk through the tent flap and ask for help.

None of them would truly know what you’d gone through at such a young age, at least not those that hadn’t been through a similar situation yourself. If they hadn’t had a family member as close as you were to your parents yourself, you found there was no real point in confiding in them when the advice they’d give you would only feel invalid.

Despite your mind tearing in to two polar opposites - one side screaming at you to get help, to talk all your rantings out into the open air so you weren’t as burdened as you were with them, and the other side echoing negative thoughts of they’d never understand, it’s all false, they don’t really care - there were two people who had an understanding of your emotions. Jake and Neytiri - the Olo’eyktan and his mate. Those two had gone through their own traumatic experiences that were similar to your own - both of them losing family they loved irrevocably due to such terrible circumstances, and still managing to come out on top, something you continued to look up to massively to this day.

With that in mind, knowing how you looked up at them like they had all the answers you’d ever needed or wanted, they took you under their wing. They became a second set of parents, so to speak - although they both knew they could never replace your biological ones - but it was something that slowly began to help your journey back to what you hoped was normalcy. They helped you grow as if you were their own, sheltering you from the harsh realities of your world, but shaping you into the woman you are today, at the same time. They tried their best to act as though your parents would’ve done in certain circumstances, knowing when these things happened, your glossy eyes would travel through a crowd in search for their warm presence, only to come up empty and cold.

That emptiness and coldness didn’t last long, however, not when Jake and Neytiri were just a step behind you, ready to envelop you in their own warmth and cage you away until you were happy again.

This was something that was always inevitable, though, being a part of the Sully family. Both Jake and Neytiri, alongside your own parents, had previously been discussing the idea of you and Neteyam (their firstborn) mating when you become of age, believing you to be a match made in heaven and perfect for one another. And, for a while, they were just hushed discussions of possibilities hidden away from any other prying ears, excitement coursing through the four of them at the idea of such a future.

When your parents died, that never stopped their ideas - no, if anything, it only fuelled it on more. Jake and Neytiri knew how excited your parents were at their own child having a mate, let alone one who was always known to be such a gentleman, so sweet and caring, never mind being next in line for Olo’eyktan. They knew despite the horrific change of events you found yourself in, they’d want you to be the happiest you could be, by finding a mate you adored and moving on to create your own family, even if it absolutely broke your heart to begin with.

So, it was almost a perfect slot of the puzzle - having you around all the time, now living with the rest of the Sully family as the two of them cared for you the way you always deserved, gave them the opportunity to slowly push you and Neteyam closer together. And, as time slowly trickled by, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, each one filled with thoughts of your parents smiling faces, you began to fall in love with him, just like they’d always imagined you doing.

Of course, it was a slightly rocky relationship to begin with. You were still in your mourning period - and, you’d argue that you still weren’t entirely out of it now - meaning you’d rather have just melted away into the shadows so you could cry silently to yourself in your despair, not wishing to bother anyone with your true emotions. It can be hard to talk to people sometimes, when they know what you’ve been through, such a private side of your life you wished you could keep in secret, when they treated you like the child you always were… like you were always going to be the same age you were when they died, like you’d died that day, too.

Neteyam was… persistant, however, wanting to see you come out of your shell and be the person you were before, because he’d always thought you were cute, inside and out. He took his time, making sure to take small steps so as not to overwhelm you all at once, but things like seeking you out in a crowd and checking in on you, inviting you to places and bringing you wherever with him, being there to listen to every single one of your rambles, no matter how long they took, and calming you down when it all became too much… it all exuded the strength of his will and determination full of both love and meaningfulness.

He was perfect - Neteyam was perfect, and whilst it took you a little while to warm up to him and fully realise it… you were falling in love with him.

After a while, Jake and Neytiri had told you the truth; about all those times themselves and your parents had spoken about the two of you mating. They were expecting backlash, mainly from yourself, but instead all your felt was warmth in your heart. Somehow, even in death, your parents were looking out for you - they’d known all the time that Neteyam was the one for you, planning this out for a surprise, and even when they were no longer standing beside you, they were guiding you along the path made specifically for you.

You’d never been looking forward to something as much as your own mating ceremony - Neteyam was the one for you, someone you couldn’t wait to truly start the rest of your life with. And, as any Na’vi do, they have their mating ceremony, standing at the front of the clan as they recite their vows and speak the words of thanks to the Great Mother, before celebrations commence whilst the newly appointed mates leave to bond with Tsaheylu.

The two of you had that when the time came, the atmosphere around you buzzing and the life emanating from absolutely everything showing off such beauty it started to tear up your eye line. The excitement you were feeling was unlike anything else, naturally so, eyes crinkled and smile beaming as all you felt was elevation, looking up at your mate as he smiled down at you like he was the luckiest Na’vi alive.

But, there was a realisation that came to you full force, smacking you in the head and forcing you back down to reality as your features started to fall…

Your parents weren’t there…

They should’ve been - they were your parents. They should’ve been stood right behind you, looking down at your elated form, all beaming smiles and teary eyes, proud as they watched you take the next step in your life, moving on from one chapter to the next in bliss.

And, whilst they were still looking down at you now, even in that moment, it wasn’t the same - it was never going to be the same. They were too far away, too high up for you to reach out and grab them and try and pull them back down, all so you could embrace them wholly again and force them to stay at home that particular day. No matter how much you imagined it in your mind, it was never going to happen - you couldn’t change what had already been done.

Your once blissful mood had tumbled off the edge when such a painful realisation hit you, despite wishing to have kept up with the happiness of your ceremony. Once holding on tightly to Neteyam’s hands, they now became looser, like you weren’t feeling it all as much as you were before, your eyes becoming glossy as they glazed over, and your ears falling flat against your head in despair. You looked so broken in that moment, when it was supposed to be a happy day.

Taking one look at you, for just a split second, Neteyam had grown terrified that you’d gotten cold feet, that you no longer wished to be his mate and wanted to run away as far as possible from him and pretend like none of this ever happened. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if that was the case - he’d wanted you to call his own for as long as he could remember, so this possibility was nerve-wracking and scary for him.

But, when his eyes trailed over your dejected form and over to his parents, eyes pleading with them for help as he wondered what he should do, as he wondered how to understand, the both of them came to the same conclusion. Instantly, they understood what was wrong in your sudden change of mood, of what had caused it. They knew the signs, they could tell just by the way you acted. Jake and Neytiri had spoken of this beforehand, about there being an obvious gap that would be noticeable during the ceremony, and they knew that eventually, you would come upon that realisation, too. So, they’d prepared for it.

With precise movements, Neytiri moved away from her spot that was once behind Neteyam, and moved closer to yourself, standing where your parents would’ve been. She gave a gentle touch to your shoulder, one that felt instantly reassuring, that spoke words describing how proud she was of you, how much you meant to her, that you would always be apart of the family, no matter what. To her, you would always be her daughter, regardless of whether you were mated to Neteyam or not.

You looked over your shoulder at her, receiving a loving, tender smile, her head tilted to the side slightly and her eyes full of sympathy. It filled your heart with warmth to see her standing behind you, ensuring you that your parents were still there in spirit, that she would take the mantle and make things so much easier for you. Such a sight spoke more than words ever could, slowly starting to feel like you could do this, as you turned back to Neteyam, sending him a gentle smile and nodding, letting him know that this what definitely what you wanted.

It would never have been the same without your parents there, of course - that was a given - but this was the next best thing, and you would take it with open arms. With Neytiri behind you, Jake not too far and your loving Neteyam in front of you, you knew that you’d always have a family, a home, a place and a people to call your own.

Unfortunately, despite these little assurances you received every so often, it never meant your heartbreak went away.

It got better with time, just like everything did, and slowly but surely, it become something you could live with. But, there were always going to be certain circumstances where everything became too much, where you remembered all your old feelings and emotions, coming back stronger and harsher; struggling to keep your emotions at bay and hidden away from any prying eyes, willing the fear back into your eyes before you made a scene on a day that wasn’t about you.

So, breathing deeply and sucking it up, you forced your eyes to stay on the happy couple, watching the mating ceremony before you. You listened to their reciting vows, loving looks shared between them, their parents behind them, proud, and the clan around you cheering in celebration, in jubilation.

Without having realised it until now, you were holding your breath, like at any moment you knew you were going to explode. Heartbeat picking up in its speed, you can’t quite bring yourself to let the breath go, to sigh in relief that everyone was starting to disperse around you so the rest of the celebration can begin. Instead, you’re instantly rushing away, making quick work with your movements to get as far away as possible. You don’t bother saying anything to your family as you continue to push past people in a hurry, no apologies or goodbyes slipping from your tongue - all you know is you’re desperate for more air and less people.

Unknown to you, however, during that entire ceremony, Neteyam could feel the emotions that were emanating off of you like you were wearing them on your sleeve. His eyes had constantly trailed down to your smaller frame, watching you for any signs of distress or panic. When he’d found what he could originally feel, he felt his heart break, knowing that you were in pain, and that it was only moments before you’d need to leave.

Before the end of the ceremony occur, he’d given his mother a subtle look and a nod your way, a sure sign of letting her know that the two of you were bound to be gone for a short time afterwards. Taking one look at you, she’d understood immediately. Her response was a firm nod and reassuring smile to her son (he used to be quite nervous at trying to calm you down, wanting to get everything right and make you happy again - but, the more he’d done it, the better he’d gotten at it… still, it didn’t hurt to reassure him), whispering what was happening over to Jake so he didn’t make it so obvious when you’d leave.

You could tell all of this had gone on without you originally knowing, just by the sound of his footsteps close behind you, trailing your every step as he followed further and further away, into the dense forest. His presence was obvious, too, the feel of his surrounding you whole, enveloping you into his warm embrace and closing around you, shielding you, protecting you, ensuring you always felt safe.

That’s how it was with Neteyam - no matter the situation, no matter the place, he was always going to be one step behind you.

You feet continued to carry you away from the hustle and bustle of the clan, the happiness and cheering becoming nothing but white noise to your eyes. Instead, the sounds of soft chirping filled your senses, leaves and branching crunching underfoot, the wind cascading against the fauna with a swoosh, rustling this way and that. It was always so beautiful out here - the way the moons eclipsed within the expanse of the sky, shining down like a beacon of hope upon your broken body, ikrans flying over its shadow like a good omen - but, you struggled to truly appreciate it when you felt like this.

Whenever you felt this way, Neteyam knew to give you your own space, giving you time to yourself so you could sort everything out, everything that was echoing within your mind and trying to tear you down. He didn’t want to bombard you with too much all at once, previous experience having taught him that it wasn’t exactly a great idea - it’d only make you worse. In time, after thinking things over and sorting yourself out, he knew you’d go to him for all the comfort you needed. That’s when he’d be there for you, waiting with arms wide open and ready to whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you were a giggling, blushing mess all over again.

So, when you stop within a part of the forest that’s barely considered a clearing - the surroundings dense with both a mixture of fauna and flowers, their colours eclipsing one another until it seemed just a mangled mess; birds continuously chirping at the tops of the trees like an echoing lullaby that wasn’t doing much help for you in that particular moment - you pick a random tree and sit down in front of it, leaning against it as your back scratches harshly against the bark, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You hang your head low, curling your knees closer to your chest and encasing your arms around them, like a means of protecting yourself from the harsh realities of your world.

Neteyam stops in his steps, looking down at you with a broken heart, wishing upon everything else that he could just mend your own before he attempted his. If he could take your pain away, he would do it in an instant - your happiness and your smile and your laugh was everything to Neteyam, and he’d give anything to experience them over and over again until the Great Mother decided his time was up.

With a hesitant breath, Neteyam sits down beside you, keeping close, but too close as to make you feel claustrophobic. His eyes stay on your figure, carefully bringing his up out in front of your hanging head like an offering. You noticed his hand within your peripheral vision, and your heart stuttered a beat when you realised what he was insinuating. Gratitude courses through your system at his cautious movements, his silence, allowing you to make these choices on your own, but still continuing to be there for you exactly as you needed him.

Reaching out, you hesitantly take his within your palm, feeling the sudden sensations of his gentle caresses that always work to soothe your skin. Suddenly, you’re melting into his embrace like you were a part of him completely, leaning fully against his figure and placing your head on top of his shoulder. You slotted into place - made for him, carved beautifully just for him by Ewya herself.

It’s silent between the two of you for a short while, Neteyam’s mind conjuring up possible ways he can make you feel whole again, and your own racing with so many terrible thoughts you wish to escape from. He knows it’s better for the both of you if you speak up first, saying what you need to say before he joins in with his comforting words, but he feels completely shattered when the noises of your little sniffles reaches his ears, the faint touch of a cold tear dropping onto his skin.

He’s glad you decided to speak up here - he doesn’t know how he’d have reacted if you only cried. He always told himself he’d tear down the world to ensure your happiness, and not many people (including himself) wanted to see such a thing happen.

“It’s too much sometimes, ‘teyam…” you starts, voice quiet and fragmented, mixing in with your stuttered breaths and heart-wrenching tears. It’s like you’re scared to admit the truth, making it all the more real, despite him already knowing you like he knows the scars on the back of his hand. “The ceremony - it was beautiful, and I was so incredibly happy for them, because it’s a day that only ever happens once and it should be magical, but…” you hesitate, finding the right words to get your point across. “They were there.”

Neteyam doesn’t need to ask for any specifications, he doesn’t need to ask who you mean by that. He’d seen it in your eyes when he was watching you during the ceremony, how they glazed over, but still struggled to move away from the one place that was causing you the most pain. “Their parents were there for the whole thing,” you continue, “they got to watch their babies grow up into a true Na’vi, as they finally found their one, their person… mine didn’t.”

You let out a shuddering breath, one that has t ou struggling for a moment, before attempting to collect yourself as you finally came clean. Nuzzling further into Neteyam’s side for more comfort that he was happy to offer, you let everything out. “I know it’s wrong to think such a thing, but it’s just so… unfair.” You said the word with so much disdain, with venom, it was clear to Neteyam that you meant every word, that you were speaking the truth you’d been so ashamed to admit before. “Why do they get to be there for their children’s ceremonies, but mine didn’t? What did mine do wrong?”

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you’re quick to continue on before Neteyam can start to reassure you like he always does, like he was so close to doing. “What if…” you stop, swallowing deeply and wondering whether you should be admitting this. “What if one day, I’m not there for my children?” Admittance should be a relief, it should feel as though you’ve finally gotten something from your chest so you can move on, but right now, it doesn’t feel that way. No, you just feel ashamed and disappointed at yourself for thinking such negative thoughts - hoping above all Neteyam doesn’t think the same way about you now. “What if something happens to me and I can’t be there when they need me? I don’t want them to go through what I went through - I know how much it breaks the heart, the soul, and-”

You’re rambling - you know you are - but, when you start, it’s always a difficult struggle to stop. And, you’re ramblings only cause you to struggle to breathe, too, your overshared, spiralling thoughts making you feel the worse you’ve ever felt. It shouldn’t feel this way, and yet, it does.

But, with Neteyam there, just a hairs breadth away from you, you know you’ll always be fine - because he always makes you feel better. These feelings will never go away - that much was obvious - but, you could forget about them for a short while, pretend like they didn’t exist. That was the best you could do, for now.

After experiencing several of these episodes together beforehand, Neteyam knows what do - he knows what’s best for you and what isn’t; what will make you feel reassured and what will only make you want to disappear all the more. He’s not proud to say that he knows these things from having accidentally gone through them before, but he was technically still learning everything about you, back then. As time drifted further on, he eventually knew everything about you, like a mate should.

With careful, gentle movements, like the perfect gentleman Neteyam has always been, he moves himself around from where he’d previously been behind you, so that he was now seated in front of you, facing one another. The front of your legs are touching, feeling the heat radiate from his body to your own, and when you look up at him with your big, glossy, doe-like eyes, he can’t help but feel like he’s experiencing your pain, too.

Neteyam slowly untangles your legs from around themselves, instead wrapping them around his waist and tugging you closer to him. Your fronts are now pressed together, bringing your foreheads against one another with a gentle touch. This has always arguably been your favourite position to be in with Neteyam - something about it screams the love you have for one another out into the universe. The way your pressed so close together, practically becoming one; the way you can pull one another closer, safe in each other’s arms from anything daring enough to attempt to threaten you; the way all you can see is him, wholly and beautifully and completely.

With his eyes never leaving your features, not even for one second, he looks down at you in adoration, in reassurance, wanting - needing - you to feel every words his speaks, to understand it’s truth. “Breathe with me, yawne (beloved),” he instructs, soft and affectionate. You listen to him, matching his breathing with your own and closing your eyes, feeling him, hearing him. Bringing your hands up to his shoulders, you caresses him against the sides of his neck, needing him whole, your once stuttering breaths gradually calming down a little.

However, it’s obvious that you’re not quite feeling entirely better yet - and, he can’t exactly blame you for feeling since away. Everything you’d previously gone through must be swirling around in your mind, eating away at you like a disease you couldn’t be rid of. It was time-consuming, all-encompassing, but it was you, and he’d have all of you before he had none of you.

Whilst one of his hands moves to rub gently against your arm, the other moves behind his back, slowly bringing his queue forwards as he gives you another offering, this one in regards to Tsaheylu. He gives you a soft, encouraging smile, letting you know that he’s okay with either answer you give him - he just wants you comfortable, above all else.

Sometimes, this is something the two of you do - bonding. Growing up, you learnt that Na’vi had different perspectives on when it came to bonding through Tsaheylu, possibly depending on what they’d heard and what they’d grown up knowing. You’ve heard that others only really see it as a sexual bond between two mates, helping them conceive quicker and expand their family. But, you - you’d always thought different.

Throughout the majority of your life you got to spend with your parents, you often saw them bonding this way, connecting their queues so they were able to share their thoughts, their feelings, let the other know them inside and out. You briefly remember a much younger version of yourself asking to join in, feeling left out, and that’s when they’d told you what the action truly meant - that it was a special connection between mates, one that Ewya granted amongst her children so they were able to come together as one soul, rather than two people. Ever since then, it was something you’d always wanted to experience.

And, ever since you first bonded with Neteyam on the night of your own mating ceremony, the two of you found it to be exactly as you had parents had first described it to you. A connection where you can take their pain away, where you can experience things together, where you can show how much you truly love someone.

But, you’re scared. You’re scared to share everything with Neteyam through Tsaheylu because he’ll know everything then. And, even though you’ve already admitted some of your feelings to him previously - including your worries regarding your own future children - there are still some lingering thoughts that you consider bad, that you don’t want to admit to him, simply because you don’t know how he’ll react.

Then, you remember who you’re talking about - Neteyam. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, who has never once belittled you for feeling a certain way; who has always been there for you through both the best of times and the worst of times; who was the only one to slowly bring you out of your shell during a time when it felt like everything was running to an end… and consequently falling in love with him in the process.

This was your mate.

So, hesitantly nodding, you move a shaky hand behind you to grab your own queue, bringing it forward and allowing the tendrils to connect, wrapping the cords like a dance at their own ceremony. Their slow movements cause the feeling of everything Neteyam to course through your system, rushing through until it reaches your brainwaves. You can feel everything he’s ever felt in his life, the ones aimed particularly at you coming to the forefront of both your mind’s, basking in their presence. He’d pushed those ones forward on purpose - he’d wanted you to know everything he feels about you.

Looking up at him, your fingers tapping nervously against the skin of his neck with a tap, tap, tap rhythm, you almost expect him to be nursing a confused expression, or maybe even slightly angry. You were ready for him to have come to the understanding of the thoughts you were so scared to admit, waiting for him to start wondering why you’d think such things in the first place. But, he doesn’t - instead, his eyes flutter open to look lovingly down at you, like you’re so unbelievably ethereal, and completely the most beautiful Na’vi from Ewya’s creations. His head turns slightly to the side, smile wide and toothy, canines on show and eyes shining, and such a reaction only causes you heart to flutter all the more.

He doesn’t mind the negative thoughts - to him, they weren’t that negative, anyway. But, he knew they were taking a toll on you, bouncing against the sides of your mind with taunting whispers. Neteyam hoped you’d know that none of that bothered him, not when he wanted all of you.

It always amazes you and makes you feel safe, validated, when Neteyam does things like this. You have no idea how he always knows the best ways to bring you back down from your anxiety cloud (as you’d come up with calling it one time, hoping to ease the tension that was once lingering between you both), constantly feeling grateful for every little thing he does for you - no matter how big or small. Because each and every one of them mean something; they all eventually add up and create a much larger picture.

Already, you’re starting to feel much better in yourself, coming down from the cloud and standing back on the ground again, gravity to its work the way it should. And, whilst you’re not going to be perfect straight away - if ever again - you know you can begin to come to terms with the fact that you’re always going to feel this alway, that it’s going to be a constant, that your feelings aren’t just going to disappear with the click of your fingers. It doesn’t work like that.

Your worries are understandable after the trauma period you’ve been through, especially at such a young age, and all you can do is hope that the Great Mother’s plans for you and your future family are ones full of both longevity and adoration. After all, she’d already given Neteyam to you in a time you needed someone the most (albeit, it did take you a little while to fully realise such a thing) - surely she wouldn’t stop the two of you from showing off your love in the most domestic way possible.

“Muntxate (wife),” he starts, bringing your full attention back on him as his hands start to circle around you waist comfortably, finding their home there like they always do. His eyes are soft and sympathetic when he carries on speaking. “I will never truly understand what you’re feeling - I know that. But, what I do know is that no matter what you are going through on any particular day, I will always be there for you. All you have to do is ask, and I will drop everything and come straight to you.”

A small smile start to curve the ends of your lips in gratefulness, repeating his words on a never ending loop within the confines of your mind. More tears are beginning to sweep against your eyeline - but, this time, they’re happy ones, they’re ones you glad to be expressing. “I know,” you respond, barely above a whisper as all the lives around you seem much louder.

Seeing as the smile on your face becomes a little wider, understanding that his words were slowly beginning to get through to you, Neteyam nuzzles your faces closer together, your noses rubbing against one another lovingly. He takes in your scent the way he loves, inhaling deeply, but never forcing his gaze away from yours, needing you to entertain the seriousness behind him pupils. “You’re not alone in anything, sevin (pretty), I promise you…” he pauses, watching your eyes flutter close as you bask in his warm presence, taking a few seconds to contemplate his next words, before speaking again. “You don’t need to worry about never being there for our children, either,” he starts, your eyes opening up once again when he brings up the elephant in the room, flickering between each of his own his contemplation, “because I promise you - I swear to the Great Mother herself - that I will always protect you: against something as little as a yerik (hexapede), or as big as an ‘angtsik (hammerhead titanothere).” His words cause a small giggle to escape from your lips before you fully realise it’s fallen. Just imagining Neteyam battling a yerik (hexapede) has you amused, feeling better than you had before. He lowers his head to your own, wanting the eye contact to stay, finding importance in it when he spoke. “You will be there for our kids for everything, and you will be an amazing mother…”he insists, fingers gently rubbing smoothly against both sides of your waist, sending chills up your spine, warm from the compliment. The thought of his words alone has you feeling all giddy. “…To all 5 of our kids…”

“5 kids?” you question immediately, exclaiming out your surprise at his admission, widened eyes and joking smile. This particular conversation that it’s changed to causes your tail to swish from left to right, showing off its excitement, despite your juxtaposing words. “I knew you wanted a few, ‘teyam, but even that’s a lot.”

“No, no,” Neteyam insists, shaking his head and laughing along with you. “You see,” he teases, fingers dancing along your waist as he begins to smile mischievously, “because I will never get enough of you, so, we’re bound to have a lot.” He leaves a little shrug at the end of his sentence, acting all nonchalant, like what he’d just admitted didn’t hold a lot of weight to his words.

You can already feel the blush patching along your cheeks, painting your skin a darker colour, forcing your head to hang low subconsciously. However, y oh don’t get to stay like that for too long, because his once-dancing fingers suddenly start tickling against your sides, moving in an annoyingly rapid succession, which causes shrieks of laughter and pleads for him to stop to shoot through the air.

More of Neteyam’s laughter joins in with your own, the loving sounds shared between the two of you emanating through the forest around you, mixing together as one. Such a sound was like music to his ears, glad to have been able to make you happy again. He doesn’t care how many times he admits it, because he’s not ashamed of it - he’d do anything, and give anything, to hear such an ethereal sound for the rest of his life.

And, even though it was always going to be obvious that the two of you would find yourselves in these situations for more times to come - because your worries and your anxieties were never going to just disappear - Neteyam would always make sure that he was right by your side, that he was there to ease you and bring you back to where you truly belonged… with him.

taglist ;

@monahiiii @bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr @lanasblood @camilo-uwu @queen190 @adrianarose7 @ttkttt @ayoungforeveruniverse-blog@lucialobelia @littlepisceanpixie @gyuventure @afro-hispwriter @thexplosivegirl @bellstwd @tahni-04 @eclipseatsea @6422btw @badbussylol @ellabellabus07

[sribbles-drabbles]

🍎Too Uptight!!🍎

Vil Schoenheit x Hippie! GN! Reader

Tw: None!!

Idk if I nailed the hippie aspect but I went for more of a "love of the earth and environment, foraging, self-sustaining, kinda spiritual" hippie ig??? I feel like it reads more spiritual cottage-core but eh?? I'm happy with it.

When one gazed upon the beautiful visage of Vil Schoenheit many words came to mind. For many it was the classic “beautiful”, “elegant”, “stunning”, or “Poise”…..maybe even “fairest of them all” a title that he always stove for during every hour of everyday. As he currently walks through the courtyard you can’t help but think that the whole thing seems exhausting. But you admired his commitment all the same and the way there was such nobility to his aura.

Though at the same time you wished Vil took better care or himself and took time to simply let go and be at peace with the world.

“Perfect, I found another Tremella Fuciformis.” Jade calls, scooping the mushroom off a dying branch on the forest floor and placing it in his foraging satchel.

“Ah, really?! That’s like, clump number 8, right? And you can just call them a snow-ear Jade…” you shake yourself free from your previous thoughts about Pomfiore warden, a blush deepening on your cheeks.

While many saw you as “lazy” or “way out of it” you preferred to call yourself what you are, a hippie. While the others were in class studying away you kidnapped Grim and ran into Jade on the way and asked for help with foraging. Foraging for what? Snow-ear, a fungus from your world that somehow carried over to the twisted wonderland. Though the only difference? Back home they grow in tropical climates like Brazil, but here they actually grow in the snow. Thus, why you’re currently up mountains, in one of Jade’s best foraging spots.

“Say, Perfect, why do you need snow ears anyways?” Jade asks suddenly, catching you off guard and making you blush before hiding it behind your scarf.

“Uhm….I just was going to use it in a soup-”

“Soup?! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!! I thought you wanted to make some fancy lotion for Vil!!” Grim blabs loudly, making you jump and then sigh.

“Ah, a gift for Schoenheit? Well you made a good choice using Snow-ear.” Jade chuckles.

“Listen, if anyone deserves a breather it’s Vil. He always seems to tightly wound, and…he needs to just…let go…” you mumble.

Later that day you took your haul into your room and with the guidance of Epel who was well aware of and on board with your plan to woo Vil, the two of you start to brew a nice natural face scrub, as Vil had claimed that the one he had been using before had stopped being made.

——————————The next day——————————

“PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!!” You call, clothes flowing in the wind. Your self altered uniform that you’re so proud of making you nervous as it’s so different than the man across from you.

You had given Vil your gift with a note asking him to meet you in the courtyard of Pomfiore at sunset. You stood by a large cotton wood in the back left corner of the property. The warm spring air making the puffs of white pollen look like snow as they fall to Earth.

Vil remains silent, and it rings loudly as the wind whistling and the ruffling leaves make an almost intolerable cacophony that it only drowned our by your thoughts.

He’s going to say no. He thinks you’re too different to him. He’s a try-hard prince who’s perfect and you’re the magicless ramshackle prefect who dances in the rain, forages for food, and loves the Earth more than words can describe.

How could this work? It can’t-

“Heh, took you long enough.” Vil muses pulling you back to reality.

“Wha-” you start looking up at Vil.

His dorm robes flutter in the wind much like your own clothes, and a red blush dusts his ivory cheeks as he smiles, tucking a loose hair behind his ear as he nears you, and leans down with a smile.

“May I…?” He asks, ever the gentleman.

You’re almost too stunned to speak, only muttering out a brief: “Y-Yeah…”

Crimson lips meet yours as the Pomfiore perfect gives you a brief smooch before standing with a confident smirk plastered on his face.

“My, flustered are we? I know I’m beautiful but you must learn to control this if we’re to make this work darling…though it is charming how surprised you seemed to be. Honestly have you picked up on none of my hints from the past month?” He questions.

You then blush harder. Though you thank the world and spirits around that this man was given to you. And you step forward and lay your head against his chest, earning a chuckle from him.

——————————7 months later—————————

You lay with your head in what you believe to be the most comfortable lap in the world. But even prettier is the view. Vil takes another bite of popcorn you made earlier and looks at the romance movie playing.

Vil sighs deeply, letting his shoulders slouch, he places some of the junk food in your mouth. He wipes his now free hand free of butter and then moves it to massage your scalp, his nails scratching in the most satisfying way.

Vil sits on his side one hand propping himself up as your head lays in his lap and his free hand plays with your hair, he looks down at you with a loving look mixed no doubt with the serotonin from the sickeningly sweet romance movie. He’s dressed in one of your sleep shirts and a pair of sweatpants and had left his own clothes in your living room, as he claimed:

“I wouldn’t want all of my belongings to smell like all this junk, lord knows what would happen if Rook were to figure out I join you to eat junk and watch movies on Friday nights...” He would trail off and grumble but never turn down an invitation.

It was euphoric in a way, to see Vil come to you at 7:00pm on the dot each Friday. Rook and Epel knew full well you were dating their house-warden and kept it a secret for your sake but what they didn’t know was how much your hippie lifestyle had started to creep into Vil’s routine.

He’d come to you after one of his photo shoots, and look as if he wanted to tear his hair out from stress. He’d walk in and grab you by the collar and kiss you before changing into a comfy outfit you bought for him, much more your style than his. with a flowing skirt, a nice blouse with embroidered flowers, handmaid jewelry, and a colorful bandana to tuck most of his hair back. You'd then drag him out the woods behind Ramshackle and have him help you forage for dinner. He was a natural at botany and poisons after all.

Before, things would be more formal, more of just small talk, asking about each other’s day with tension heavy in the air. not knowing how to connect to each other even though you had been friends for months before and shared a common interest in botany and films. it was so easy as friends but harder as a new couple.

You hated it. He hated it too.

But one day after talking about what you both desired out of this relationship, you both realized you wanted someone to simply relax with. Though your ideas of relaxation varied a-lot. Mostly because Vil didn’t seem to know how to truly relax without doing some sort of physical activity. Lazying around seemed repulsive to him. So you compromised.

You were both interested in botany and naturally grown foods and products, thus why not teach Vil more about the Earth and how to harness it in a healthy, sufficient way? It was still something active in Vil’s mind, thus it’s always how things started until you both made your way back inside and to the kitchen to cook your findings. while you played music from your world on your somehow still functional phone. I couldn't make calls to your family, but somehow still had your playlist intact. Vil thought the music choices were odd but grew to like it and respect it for its message and freeness in expression over time.

Afterward was always different, however. Sometimes a movie, and sometimes just talking or enjoying each other’s presence and cuddling.

“I’m glad, you know…” Vil drawls out with a yawn. you look at the clock, around 11 pm this is late for him, as Vil is usually early to bed and early to rise,

“What for?” You ask with a hum.

“I’m glad I’m here with you…you make me feel so soft and warm." he groans in frustration and rubs the corner of his eye with his index finger, spreading some of his makeup before continuing "No…that doesn’t make any sense…I suppose I mean you make me content and happy.” He hums and smiles warmly, causing you to reciprocate.

“You make me happy too love…” You smile up at him, leaning up to meet him as he leans down and you two share a chaste, emotional, kiss.

“What a wonderful life this is…” you think to yourself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @demon-lover-669

[fractal-quadrilioquy]

Zhaitan | Mordremoth | Kralkatorrik | Primordus | Jormag | Soo-Won

This entire project was just an excuse to write Primordus meta. Sorry to have deceived you all, it's time for The Big Boy who is here to Eat Rocks and Have A Good Time (for him! not so much others.)

My interpretation of Primordus here, as Conflagration of Molten Curiosity, is a very specific interpretation, but with a lot of thought behind it. I'll elaborate on more under the cut, but in short - Primordus is fast, Primordus is mobile, Primordus is very aware of the surface despite being underneath it, and Primordus is, canonically, good at mimicry.

(Lore descriptions and thoughts under the cut!)

---

Conflagration of Molten Curiosity

Life always changed on the surface. Wing-beasts, forager-beasts, always always something new, something to sculpt, easy even from below. The ones-who-speak have been here for a long time, always new but very old. It learned how to remake them long ago, through its constructs of fire and rock. But these new ones…

Invaders, the ones-who-speak call them. These ones don't seek to placate many of the above-grounds, but build and build and build, reaching up high.

It wants a closer look. Rock and earth part like water, fissures foaming hot.

It has been a long time since it last surfaced.

Play Style

Continually shifting its presence, either through adding and destroying it, and/or shifting to new lands with every Invader phase. Deals small amounts of damage at a time, often at point blank range, but can build up some badlands to increase its destructive potential.

---

Primordus is my favourite of the Elder Dragons, and what really gets me is that he's everywhere - or perhaps more accurately, if he's not already there, he'll be there soon enough. Destroyer burrows appear all over Tyria; though all of his siblings have their various areas of Tyria (Zhaitan claiming Orr, Mordremoth incorporating Maguuma, Jormag descending from the north and beginning to threaten the Shiverpeaks, Kralkatorrik's Brand carving through Ascalon and Elona), Primordus pops up literally everywhere, as is natural for him - Since he can move underground, literally beneath notice.

In addition, Primordus is fast - It's common in many fantasy things that entities associated with rock and earth, even volcanic ones, are slow to build up but destructive on impact. Primordus, however, both opposes his counterpart - Jormag, renowned for their slow and creeping influence - and is associated with lava and magma, which if you know anything about pyroclastic flows, add up to being exceedingly quick. He's been the first one to attack both of Glint's scions while they were still in their eggs, and was quick to capitalise on and process his siblings' magic after their deaths, both Vine-Touched and Death-Touched Destroyers populating Draconis Mons, while the Commander only faced one Icebrood that was doing anything similar.

It shows that he's not only aware of much that's happening on the surface, but that he also has the speed and thought to do something about it. Despite everything that Jormag is saying, Primordus is not mindless at all - and, considering that he's been able to keep up with and take down Jormag for the entire time that they've both existed, his level of thought is actually quite advanced.

I love my fire son dearly.

The main challenge when interpreting Primordus in Spirit Island was that there are already several spirits representing the earth and bedrock of the island. Serpent Slumbering Beneath the Island, for one, is quite self-evident - But the obstinacy of earth in Stone's Unyielding Defiance and the vulcanism of Volcano Looming High both mean that making a spirit that is distinct from all of those three while still being Primordus was difficult. In the end, my major thought was - None of these spirits actually care that much about sentient life, other than the destruction that the Invaders threaten with their actions (though arguments could be made for Stone shoving them places and making them stay there), but Primordus actually very much does.

(It's interesting, the parallels you find with Jormag - though Jormag tends to prefer their minions somewhat sentient, every corrupted Icebrood we see has been warped into something distinctively monstrous and other, seen most evidently in Icebrood Norn and Kodan. On the other hand, Primordus doesn't bother subjugating other races and instead mimics and recreates them, from crabs to trolls to harpies to wyverns to giants, and sticks to that. The exceptions that I'm aware of is the Stone Summit group found in Forging Steel, who ritually bound themselves to Primordus, but Primordus as far as I know, didn't really have a hand in that aside from being the power source they drew upon.)

So, I made this mimicry and curiosity his main aspect! He follows the invaders, surfacing where they are and either drawing himself close or drawing them to him - whether that be to a different biome or straight down into the earth. He doesn't care about the Dahan, for he's gone through that process before, ages ago, likely before the Second Reckoning, but these Invaders are both new and threaten to stop the evolution and creation of things he likes to mimic - therefore they have to go, so he's killing two invaders with one stone!

His two innates are also a bit of a reversal to Volcano's - Adding presence at fast, and destroying them in slow. It represents him surfacing and diving again with each turn. It's fun to imagine the Badlands he creates as being pools of lava or swarms of Destroyers that make life particularly dangerous to exist there.

This constant moving is also why he's got Water as a secondary elements - Fire, and lots of it, being the main one, but Water and Earth as he swims/swarms beneath the surface, and Sun for a little extra power.

[deityoftherain]

threats of pain and love - Joel/Scar Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M

Archive Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,010

Summary:

Joel had warned him to not get distracted and to stay safe, but Scar couldn’t help it! The world they lived in was just so magical, so spectacular, so… a-may-zing! How could he not get lost and a little not-super-aware of threats when he was surrounded by the magnificent artistry of the gods’ work?

...he was bleeding though, so that may be a bit of a problem.

I wrote this for @kaije224 through the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange !

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Joel had warned him to not get distracted and to stay safe, but Scar couldn’t help it! The world they lived in was just so magical, so spectacular, so… a-may-zing! How could he not get lost and a little not-super-aware of threats when he was surrounded by the magnificent artistry of the gods’ work?

Little creatures fluttered and pranced around, scurrying across the forest floor as they did whatever they were up to. Wind whistled through the trees and weaved its way through Scar’s long, brown hair. The various earrings that dangled from his pointed ears sounded like wind chimes, playing their beautiful melody as they clung together. The sequoia trees towered above him, reaching towards the heavens at a height far above what most mortals could hope to reach.

Contentment settled in Scar’s bare chest as he breathed in the fresh air. It was so peaceful out here. He often dragged Joel from his projects, insisting they take a break to walk through nature. Joel didn’t care for their walks deep in the forest the same way Scar did, but that was to be expected. Their appreciation and love of the outdoors didn’t come from the same places, but that was okay.

Scar was a nature elf, after all. He has spent his life communing with the spirits that dwelled within the earth, fostering a proper relationship. Joel was a wolf hybrid who had to scavenge the woods and hunt for survival. He didn’t have time to stop and smell the roses growing up when he wasn’t sure when his next meal would be. Though there for different reasons, nature provided, caring for those who asked for sanctuary.

Their differences didn’t bother Scar. In fact, they excited him. Thrilled him, even. Differences in opinion only led to passionate discussion and rambling to one another deep into the night. In fact, Joel could denounce the wild, the landscape he grew up in, and stay close to the villages, and Scar would still love him. 

Luckily though, Joel hadn’t become that jaded and cold to the world, clear by the residence they held. Scar recalled the day they started working away at their fixer-upper cottage, and the determination that shone in Joel’s eyes as Scar taught him how to properly grow the necessary herbs and plants in their raised garden beds. Having the ingredients on hand instead of having to forage allowed Joel to practice his potion-making (and other magical recipes) skills more frequently. He was getting really good!

Scar loved how Joel would indulge him and his various infodumps, even adding his own tidbits and experiences to their discussion. He loved how protective Joel was of those he thought of as his. He loved how Joel’s tail would wag like a dog when he was particularly pleased. He loved how Joel’s face would go all red, steam practically coming out of his ears as he went off on another fervent tangent. Scar loved Joel for all of his qualities, flaws and all.

Scar grinned wide at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him to return home. He quickened his pace, only to be reminded as to why he was traveling so slow.

A high-pitched cry of pain barely had time to grow in his throat before its power was projected to the world. His legs were shaky to walk with on a good day, and that was when he wasn’t actively bleeding from his stomach.

Oh yeah, the blood. He was stabbed. By bandits. Right.

Scar grimaced, pressing his blood-stained shirt harder against the wound. The added pressure made him wince, but he powered forward. The fabric was drenched all the way through, sticky and scarlet red, coating his hand in the process. 

His head was starting to feel light from the blood loss, his senses seeming to dull. Scar wasn’t sure how much longer he could hobble along the path, using the cane he hastily formed from a relatively young tree’s discarded branch. It was lucky he could summon nature magic for aid, because he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far without support otherwise.

Those fuckers took my cane, too, Scar huffed bitterly. It was high quality too! I could have made a pretty coin off of it if I wasn’t using it myself!

Scar doubted the thieves that took it, along with his satchel of foraged items and a pouch of gold, understood its value like he did. They would probably sell it for cheap, thinking it was just another cane. He doubted they would even notice the particularly sculpted engravings that Scar spent hours on! Hours he would never get back, practically given away by a gang of honorless bandits. Honestly! Who would stab and then steal the cane of a disabled man? Those assholes, apparently! The more he thought about it, the more offended Scar was at the whole ordeal.

Anger simmered in his stomach, creasing his brow and rumbling in his throat. Scar wasn’t sure where he was going to put the righteous rage that swiftly grew to a boil. The stench of his own blood consumed his sense of scent, the fumes irritating his tear ducts.

…

Perhaps he was just crying. Huh. When had that started, again?

“Scar?” a shrill cry reached his ears, loud enough to be heard over the ringing against his skill. He knew that cry anywhere. Joel. Scar almost collapsed in relief, but he refused to go down just yet. “Blummin’ hell, Scar! What happened? And why are you shirtless? Gods above, what am I going to do with you? I thought I told you to stay safe, you stupid, beautiful idiot!” “You could ‘ive me a kiss?” Scar replied cheekily, though a tad disoriented. “Since I’m so pret-tay.”

“Let me stop the bleeding first, and we’ll see how the night takes us,” Joel retorted, dismissing the flirting for later, but not denying it entirely. 

That’s my Joel. Scar beamed, the tips of his ears pinkening. At least, he was fairly sure he beamed. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if his face was responding to his commands properly. What am I doing again?

Scar stumbled forward, trying to make it just a bit further before his legs gave out. His boyfriend rushed to his aid, and Scar collapsed into his arms just as he was close enough to touch. 

Joel grunted with the effort of catching the taller elf, straining his muscles to prevent Scar from hitting the ground at the awkward angle his body contorted in. The wolf hybrid shifted Scar in his hold, somehow rough and gentle at the same time.

“I like how you manhandle me,” Scar commented casually, voice innocent of any possible implications.

Joel rolled his eyes as if in annoyance, but the breathy laugh that accompanied it was more than enough evidence Scar needed to know Joel wasn’t truly upset with him. Displeased that he got himself into trouble, most likely, but not angered. “I get that a lot.”

Scar giggled, eyelids fluttering close as the world felt farther away. The rumbling in his chest didn’t go away, though he wasn’t sure if it was the shock or the delirium setting in. He was too far gone to register Joel’s movement, nor try to dissect what he was doing. Careful, paw-like hands explored his bare skin, only the faintest brushing of claws confirming that the hands belonged to Joel.

He wasn’t sure if he had gone unconscious or not, but the next thing he recalled was the rim of a potion bottle being pressed to his lips. Whatever was inside slowly trinkled into his mouth, draining down his throat.

“There you go, Scar,” Joel coached softly. “I know it tastes like rubbish, but you gotta swallow it all. It’ll help you feel better, there you go.”

Scar groaned, scrunching his nose at the taste. He hadn’t had this concoction before, but he swallowed it obediently anyway. Eventually, Joel removed the bottle from his lips, murmuring more praise about how good he’s done. Scar felt a little floaty as the potion worked his magic, high off of blood loss and Joel’s praise. It wasn’t often Joel would be so direct with his compliments. He usually disguised how much he cared in affectionate insults, not that Scar was bothered by them.

“That’s a new one,” Scar murmured, squinting to try and peer through his eyelashes. “Did you learn a new recipe just for me? Aww, you shouldn’t have. You must loveeee meeee…”

“No, I didn’t,” Joel scoffed, but Scar saw right through him. He totally did. “Shut up.”

“I love you too,” Scar quipped joyfully, reaching up to play with Joel’s wolf-like ear. He scratched his fingers in Joel’s brown, green-streaked hair and behind his ear.

Joel tried to smother the needy whine that shuttered through his vocal cords, flicking his ears back while his tail’s swaying picked up speed. Scar slowly migrated his touch down the side of Joel’s face until he was cupping his cheek. His strength was already returning to him, and the wound on his stomach didn’t feel nearly as bad. He could still feel it, sure, but it was more like a giant, annoying bug bite than a gaping wound.

Scar brushed his thumb against Joel’s cheek briefly, before letting his hand fall down to the front of Joel’s kimono. He was very grateful for his returning strength as he used the collar of Joel’s kimono to pull him down toward him.

Joel yelped as he fell into Scar, throwing out his arms to catch himself and make sure he didn’t cause any damage to himself or Scar. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue as Scar closed the space between them. Joel allowed himself to be shut up, leaning into the give and take of the kiss.

A happy buzz spread throughout Scar’s veins as if he were drunk on Joel’s lips. By the time they parted, they both were gasping for air. Scar ran his tongue against the sensitive, mildly sore dents of his lower lip, courtesy of Joel’s fangs.

Joel took their time apart to scoot closer to Scar, halfway curling himself around his lover. He pressed a kiss against the edge of Scar’s mouth before peppering more affection toward his jawline, then his neck, then his collarbone…

“Don’t worry me like that again,” Joel threatened airily between each kiss, “or I will kill you myself.”

“You know I can’t promise that.” Scar was crafty, skilled with the power of deception and sweet talking his way out of any situation, but that didn’t mean he wished to lie to his boyfriend. Far from it, actually.

“I know,” Joel grunted, abandoning the trail of kisses. Instead, he nuzzled his face into the crevice at the base of Scar’s neck. He threw his arm over Scar’s chest, careful to avoid the injury on his stomach, and entangled his leg with Scar’s. There was a faint growl to his tone, adding a sense of danger that would strike fear in most people, but Scar wasn’t most people. “You’re lucky I love you too much, otherwise I would tear you to shreds. Eat you for lunch. My love is your only saving grace, ya hear? You better be grateful.”

“Very,” Scar agreed cheerfully, unbothered by Joel’s empty threats. “Very grateful, honest!”

Joel huffed, a puff of air warming Scar’s neck, but he didn’t otherwise say anything. Scar let his eyes flutter close again as he hummed a tune to whatever song managed to get stuck in his head this time. Healing potions could take a lot out of him, exhaustion weighing on his eyes and limbs. Scar allowed himself to be led into dreamland, comfortable and content with where he was. All in all, Scar believed that today was a good day, even if he was still upset about his stolen cane. Any day that included Scar snuggling up with his wonderful boyfriend for a nap was a good day, in his opinion.

[2willowlane]

i do really love emily. i don't know, but something just makes me very affectionate towards her.

femme reader, sfw, established relationship

ever since emily was then wedded to her new spouse, there's something that she still cannot get used to. well, in her heart, it feels so natural—as if she was made for this purpose, and as if everything that has been said and done was all aligned for her. even if she does indulge in her beliefs of mysticality, emily knew that what she had was real and cemented. a best friend, a girlfriend—a wife, of all things. tossing and turning in their shared bed, emily looked at your peaceful sleeping face. she found you to be so beautiful...

her eyes glossed over each of your features, from the fine contours of your nose, to those lips of which she oh, wants to kiss so dearly. the artistic side in her finds you just so genuinely interesting, as she's able to map out all of the different proportions in her mind. even if you may not be perfect, and emily is far from that as well, you two were perfect for each other. the tailor then gave into her impulses, pressing a soft kiss on her wife's cheek; lingering a bit, as she then withdraws. she misses the warmth already.

something has been nagging at emily recently, and it's mainly due to her scheduling. normally, she'd go out and work the saloon late at night; often times, just the hustle and bustle of her shifts do get her through the hours—however, she promptly would then pass out as soon as she makes her way towards home. how emily would dream of having that taste of sleep; looking forward to it every day, since it's the most downtime she has in her day—well, other than in the morning (of which she likes to relax in her home... whenever she doesn't have chores).

it's past 11pm, and the bed already feels uncomfortable for her. she has this insatiable itch to get up, to dance, to move—but, there're a few moments in emily's life where it feels as if it's better to stay still. as if she doesn't need to go put an imprint on the new day, rather, just let the earth turn. it felt like an eterenity for the woman, as she was still just glazing over the features on your face, whilst trying to think of something to do. she already knows what she wants to do tomorrow—probably tend to her crystal garden out by the farm, and then surprise her love with taking care of her chickens. oh, how she does love birds!

possibly, she could go out and forage some? she has a few hours to make it back home, and she knows you do appreciate a fresh medley. she wants you to grow healthy wnd strong, and with all of your farmwork, combat expertise, and mining efficiency... she'll be surprised if she could find anyone that'd be stronger than you. well, not only by physical strength—she knows that you're a capabale woman; more than capable.

it makes her feel proud that her gut feeling was right about you being special; but her sense of pride over having the person she loves doing what she wants to do, and is equally proud of her own work? oh, emily's heart swoons!

preparing to go out, she then slips on her shoes, makes sure to change into something she could get dirty in, and makes her way out of the house. making sure that none of the wooden floorboards don't creek underneath the rug she's walking on, emily takes softer steps—to ensure that you're not going to have a rude awakening anytime soon. she then turns around whenever she reaches the fromt door, blowing a kiss in the bedroom's direction to say "goodbye, my dear!"

the chill of the night washed over emily. well, at least it brings her more of an incentive to get out and be active! however, she still needed to be careful being out at night without light; she could still make out some objects due to the moonlight. oh, how romantic this felt with emily, and how it just felt so in-tune with her emotions. she was glad she was able to be friends with—now, be with—someone who doesn't just dismiss her mannerisms as simply "odd" or "too weird". yes, she knows that she is far from the conventional standard sometimes, but the world would be too boring if everything was a simple carbon copy of each other.

how she felt things were different than most. you were able to be with her and understand, and even if you didn't quite get everything she rambled on about, it made you feel special that she'd want to show you all of those things. emily may have her quirks, but that's what makes her, well—her! you wouldn't have her any other way.

humming a saloon tune whilst skipping to the beat of it, just thinking about surprising you with all of these goodies makes her feel so, so upbeat! if you were there, you could've seen the color to her cheeks; how that rosey hue was something all-too familiar. picking up some dandelions along the way, she did remember to pack a wicker basket a while back; as she tried her best to then assort each of the plants the best she could. emily had an eye for design and arrangements, so it did take her a bit until she was fully satisfied to continue onto the next task. if she feels so strongly about something, she needs to vent it out! emily believes that it's a true emotion, if it resonates that deeply within her.

something about this late night nature stroll does rekindle feelings emily never quite knew she had. she never had the time to go outside and to fully appreciate the stars; however, being able to actually go out, and to observe all of the things she'd normally miss due to her body just aching to get to bed... she loves it. the fresh breeze of the spring's night air was cold, however, there's still a warmth to it. oh, well, maybe it's because she's full of thoughts of you. maybe that's it.

she then makes her way throughout town, waving to some of the nightly saloon guests as they make their way out of the restaurant. ever since she was married, she doesn't have to work as much at gus'. this made her feel more free, as she knows that she cannot simply be a barsmaid forever—there's too much on her plate to do, y'know? though, now that she thinks about it, work feels much more rewarding, if she can go home and see you, to cook for you, to bring gifts to you (from all those times you've given her some), and to simply be the first and last thing she gets to see in her days.

as emily progresses up towards the mountains, she doesn't frequent this area; as she doesn't have much of a use for it. now? she loves just how raw and natural this feels to her, as she gets a good feeling of energy coming from her. you'd often talk about all of the difficult fish that you'd have to catch in this area, and you have to reassure her that you're handling the little creatures humanely; and that they're all okay, under your care. she loves how caring you are with even the smallest of things, and that positivity is contagious. well, at least in her mind.

this was the place where she truly belonged, now that she thinks about it.

[garden-variety-jumo]

Lord of the Rings Culinary Culture Headcannons bc I'm bored.

This isn't based off of any source from the books this is just vibes. I love food anthropology though so.

Elves: They don't seem huge in agriculture to me, kind of because it seems tedious for them to do every year, forever, till they die. So instead I think they'd embrace a more hunter-gatherer approach, with certain areas cultivated so the plants pretty much take care of themselves. I also think they favour food that can be preserved like dried meat and jams so they don't have to worry about the food spoiling as fast. I've heard lembas bread can be made regardless of location, so I dont think it's a patiular grain, but more of a special process in preparing the grain or smth that's kept secret (a little like nixtamalisation). Additionally: their most elaborate meals tend to have a very long process to make- it's not unusual for preparation for a feast to begin months in advance.

Dwarves: I think they would have an emphasis on group meals, as more work can be achieved if everyone shares one big meal rather than going off to make individual ones. Spending the majority of their time underground, I feel like they eat a lot of tubers. I think they would at least originate from somewhere with geothermal pools, and to reflect this have a lot of boiled and steamed foods, as well as burying food in pots near the pools so the natural heat can cook it (I can't remember what culture but there's evidence of this being done with bread). Additionally, I think they'd be fans of pit ovens, rather than pots or cauldrons- using the heat from their forges to heat up rocks for them. [I think there's less roasting on a spit over a fire because the hear from theor forges would burn the food too quickly.] I feel they'd also be very good at fermenting, with halls dedicated to maturing cheeses or aging meat. Additionally, if they eat meat, it will likely be a large land animal like a boar or deer- not so much birds or fish because they aren't really adapted to hunting them.

Humans: they're honestly pretty standard. They were probably behind a lot of advancements, like preserves, but the majority of the time, it's either porridge or stew. I feel like they have the most diversity from establishment to establishment, for example if you went by the sea, a lot of communities use the salt to preserve their food, but more inland other communities may not have heard even of the method. Obviously the bigger the kitchen, the grander the meals can be and the more equipment they can afford, but villages usually have a community oven they can use for bread and pies. While the food itself is pretty standard, they're also the most adventurous in foraging, inadvertently making a lot of once-poisonous plants edible through natural selection, humans are usually thr first to try out a new food, as well as the first to find ways to make it edible.

Hobbits: as expected from a culture who values meals and food to that extent, hobbits are the culinary geniuses of Middle-Earth. In Ancient Rome, they had advanced cooking utensils, that after the fall of Rome, weren't reinvented till the 18th(?) century: Hobbits are like that. They have utensils for every food in every variety you can think of, and while it's unnecessary to actually have, and perhaps inconvenient to use, it's a point of pride and great social status. Not only do they keep incredibly well-stocked pantries, but they've very keen to experiment with new flavours and have a decent trade route for these reasons. Recipes are also a point of pride, and it's considered unspeakable rude to attempt to recreate someone else's recipe. While there are recipe books of all kinds in every house, family recipe books are often handed down in wills, and kept secret from others. Cooking equipment is also passed down in wills. While they also partake in standard agriculture, hobbits also often have their own vegetable gardens, where they grow their proffered ingredients to work with. In the perspectives of other races, they can be a bit snooty about food, however they're simply very well-educated about the matter. Certain cultures can identify more shades of colour, because in their languages they give each shade a different name- it's sort of like that, but with taste. ((Many hobbits are able to identify the type of salt used in a recipe.)) Additionally, they have several festivals a year where they partake in food competitions. They're big fans of using edible flowers in their flavouring

[silentarborinah]

on gridania

Since Inah was young, she has always adored Gridania. Starting at an early age, her whole family would make regular trips up to the markets to sell foraged goods and meat from the forest. Ferah Renyi always priced herself on having a tribe and family that took every effort to live in harmony with the Twelveswood and not poach its precious resources, a philosophy that made their goods more appealing to vendors and buyers alike.

As Ferah would always tell her children, "Take care of the forest and it will take care of you."

Although despite this way of life, Inah became aware of how some in Gridania treated her family, as if they were lesser, because they were Miqo'te. Their distaste wasn't entirely unfounded, as there were a few tribes in the Shroud who had been poaching, throwing the forest into a state of ecological chaos. Inah could feel it, the aches and changes in the forest.

But even still, her family wasn't the cause of the imbalance, and despite loving the beauty and bustle of the city, as she aged, Inah's relationship towards it became more complicated.

All of her life, there have always been lingering feelings of being different. Her features--mostly Seeker of the Sun with strange touches of Keeper, like her white face markings--always made her stand out. Being adopted into her tribe, despite the love and acceptance for her, left her with lingering feelings of being an outsider. That feeling of wanting to feel like part of the family a family, but struggling at times to fully feel like she belongs.

Being in Gridania, she became very aware of how different she and her family were from everyone else. It was never too obvious to her, until she applied to join the Godsquiver, met with disparaging looks, snide remarks, and a big, fat rejection. And it hurt.

Inah felt the rejection deeply, all of the years of feeling out of place festering within her. She decided that day that she hated Gridania and was going to find a way to leave and never come back.

From then on, she began visiting The Roost more and more, healing adventurers and travelers for a small fee. She would also begin her own journey as a botanist, following in her adopted family's footsteps, selling goods and ingredients to the adventurers she healed.

And as the months passed, she found that she actually really liked it, chatting with others and hearing their stories. She could also feel her heart softening towards Gridania, just a little bit. At least her small corner of it. It still didn't change her mind of leaving to become an adventurer, though. In fact, meeting so many adventurers from all over only inspired her more. She now wanted to leave the forest not so much out of spite, but to see the incredible things that lie beyond its familiar boarders.

Then, in a chance encounter in Central Shroud, Inah found herself in an opportunity to really get out and see the world when she happened to run into Papamylo and Yda.

Since then, her adventures have taken her all throughout Eorzea and beyond. But now that she has left the forest, she feels a slight ache in her heart. She didn't realize how connected she was to it until she left. She can still sense changes to the aether, the elements of the Twelveswood, even if it is a faint whisp when she is especially far away. While she doesn't really understand it, she has come to find that somehow her soul is connected to the forest.

As her responsibilities grow and grand adventures take her further from the forest, she finds that now she misses it. The smell of the earth, the gentle rustle of the trees, the bright flowers she used to pick with her siblings, the dappling of warm sun through the foiliage.

Then one day, after a massive adventure with the Scions, she went back and a part of her felt whole again. It became ever-so-slightly clear to her again, that no matter what a part if her will always love the Twelveswood.

So she started going back more. And more. And with her growing list of accomplishments she was given more respect--even from those who had shown her little in the past. She was also granted an audience with some of the leaders in Gridania, where she found herself advocating for changes, even small ones.

Slowly, she started to fall back in love with the Black Shroud. The adoration that she once held when she was young beginning to fill her heart once more.

[yourantag]

From Winter to Spring

AN: This fic is actually pretty different from my other ones since this is intended to be more like a letter. I listened to a song called "Magic Lily," which inspired me to write something in the perspective of Ithaqua's mother. The song is meant to be romantic, but I interpreted it as a mother waiting for their son to come back from war. Naturally, with themes of winter and suffering, I think Ithaqua, so here we are. Word count: 1.6 words Summary: A carefully written letter, multiple pages long, is stuffed inside an envelope. It doesn't seem like it was ever meant to meet its recipient, yet it resides within his hands. The delicate papers seems to weigh heavy with the love of a mother.

My dearest dove, 

It has been a long time since I've last seen your face. It's like it was just yesterday that we went to forage together. You had looked at me with such pride in your eyes, having picked two whole baskets of barberries. We had planned to turn them into jam with honey, a small luxury. You had smiled so brilliantly, so happily at that. To be able to make you happy like that made me feel whole, complete. The fondness I felt overwhelmed me, it almost made me want to cry.

I had never understood when other women spoke fondly of their children. They sacrificed their bodies, health, mind, their everything for them. Yet, children will never completely understand that sacrifice. Oftentimes, they take it for granted. They forget it. But you? You made me understand.

It's odd to think of loving someone more than yourself, but that is exactly how I feel. The stars could disappear from the sky, the heavens and earth could collide, and yet, I think I would not mind for as long as you were alive.

So, tell me why, why would you do this to me? Why have you left me like this?

Once we came back, setting aside our foraged goods, I felt an impending sense of doom. My throat tightened, heart racing as I felt unadulterated fear roll through me. Perhaps it was an instinctual thing, like how many of life's creations can sense death. I could tell my demise was near, be it in one way or another.

You had looked at me with worried eyes, asking me what was wrong. You have always been a sweet child, caring and attentive and so, so very smart. No matter how much I tried to hide my feelings, you always seemed to know when something was wrong. I sometimes wish you weren't such an intelligent boy, but that would be cruel of me. I love you for who you are- to remove any part of you would mean taking away who you are now. I could never do that.

I had forced a smile to my face as I told you I forgot something in my room, something important. You didn't believe me, but you did not pry. Thank you for trusting me, even when you knew I was lying. I know it's horrible to lie to you, but I had to do what I did.

I had ran to my room, throwing aside a cloth to reveal a crystal ball. Divination is not my specialty; it was the specialty of my mother. However, I am still above the rest when it comes to reading fate. What I saw was exactly what I had anticipated, something I hadn't feared before. Now, however, I was. I was beyond scared- I was downright terrified.

Before, I had nothing. My mother had been killed in a witch hunt, my home had been razed, and my friends and fellow villagers had turned their backs on me. I was consumed by rage, sorrow, and despair. I had nothing to lose but my life, I had no one to love but myself. 

Still, I could not hate people. I was human as the rest, but I was shunned. I was hated for my hair, for being a woman, for existing. Still, I could only hope, I could only live. To die would be to give into their hate, to throw away my mother's sacrifice for me to live.

Thus, I lived. Out of spite, out of grief. I lived because of love, because my mother would want me to. And, on my travels, I found God. I found peace. Life seemed less like a punishment than it had before.

Then, I found you.

At one point, I had wished my mother hadn't sacrificed herself for me, I wished she had lived instead of me. However, I understand now. I understand why she did what she did. As a mother, you are willing to do anything for your child. Even if it means becoming a monster, even if it means killing someone, you would do whatever it takes to protect your child.

In that moment, watching the future in which not just I would die, but you as well, I made up my mind. 

I cannot lie and say I did not want to live. I wanted to watch you continue to grow, to become a lovely young gentleman. I wanted to watch you become an adult, to love, to live. I didn't want to miss any moment of your growth, of you becoming your own person. However, I was willing to give up everything if it meant you'd live.

I got a glimpse of my fate and I couldn't help but shutter. Tortured till my mind broke, till I was no longer human, till I was no longer me. That was my fate should I sacrifice myself. But, was it worse than if you were to be tortured with me? Killed with me?

No, nothing could be worse than that.

So, knowing what kind of fate awaited me, I stood tall and put on a brave face. We didn't have much time, after all.

I asked you to hide in the closet, the men already knocking on our door. They banged against the wood as though it owed them money. The sound was like the call of death, a scythe hovering over my neck. But what can a mother do? I could only smile through the thundering of my heartbeat, through the tears that were rising in my eyes, the tight compression of my chest.

I was scared.

For me? Maybe. Mostly, it was for you. If they found you, I don't know what I would do.

The door swings open and I meet a painfully familiar face, as well as many armored ones. His arrogance is unlike your humility, the way he smiles is so different from your own. It's like a bearing of fangs, like a predator that had found its prey. It's horrible, terrible, what he does with your face. Your brother he may be, if only in blood, but he could never compare to you.

His words are laced with malice and self-importance, his finger pointed at me. I had braced myself for when the armored men would drag me away, manhandle me as though I were a fugitive and not just a lady, a mother.

Then, you came out of hiding.

Looking at your back, so small yet wide, I truly wanted to fall to my knees and weep. Your arms spread out, shielding me, you had stood. 

Ah, is love meant to hurt like this? Be difficult like this? Or, perhaps, is it just me?

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard you bargain with them, begging them to take you instead of me, to leave me alone. Words were clogged in my throat as you spoke, everything you said hurting more than any wound I'd ever had.

He had a contemplative look, that child. Then, like a cruel judge, he gave his ruling. He gave into your will, even going so far as to promise he'd place me somewhere I'd never be hunted again.

I had wanted to cry. I had wanted to scream. However, when you had turned to me with a smile so kind, so sweet, so sad and knowing, not a single sound could escape my lips.

You promised to come back to me in spring, like the flowers that withered in fall. You held my hands even as tears fell from your eyes, even as I tried to hold you back with all my might.

Yet, it was not enough.

You were taken from me.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did we have to suffer like this? Was this retribution? Punishment? For not having followed God sooner? For living? For existing?

My anger towards that boy, towards God, and towards the world, none of it could compare to the anger I feel towards myself.

This arduous path which I had to take, covered in thorns and decorated with hate, why did you have to take it too?

Ultimately, I believe it is because of me.

(There's darkened circles upon the paper, some smearing the last few words.)

It's been 5 years since then. Every time the snow melts, ushering in the coming of spring, I wait with anticipation. I wait for the sound of footsteps, for the sounds of life.

I wait for you.

It has been 5 years of fluttering frost, blossoming flowers, sunny fields, and bountiful harvests. I've seen the seasons come and go, the birds leaving for winter before returning home. Yet, the most important bird of all, my dearest dove, has yet to return.

There's a special kind of sadness that comes with spring. It starts with joy, which turns to immeasurable sorrow. I always wait, yet you never come.

Are you alive? Are you well? I've been taken to a place where no one despises me, where everyone accepts me, yet I'd rather be pelted with stones than part from your side. I would give up everything if I could just see your face once more.

Is it just me? This spring feels a bit worse than the last. I hope without hope, though I know you won't come. Not knowing if you're alive or well, it drives me mad. My divination has failed me, not allowing me to see anything beyond the veil of reality.

But, I want to believe. I have to believe. You always keep your promises, so I must believe it, believe that you will come back to me. I must weather the seasons, the storms, the sun, the snow, all for the day you return.

Yet, I grow tired of waiting. My heart is heavy, and my soul is weary. My eyes are always full of tears, constantly worried about you to this day.

How many more springs must I wait?

My dear child.

My beloved son.

*****.

Please.

Please.

Come home.

[bard-powers-activate]

Welcome, friend! Feel free to browse my shiny things. Tag system if u want it 👇

I got the idea from following the illustrious @zoanzon.

hello to the spouse creature reading this; you will see this one will come up a lot purely because my spouse is also on tumblr, and is a creature. They don’t really enjoy interacting and reblogging and all that jazz. This is why in my bio I say I share a brain cell with the spouse creature lurking in my notes—we DO share a brain cell, they are chronically online/have all notifications turned on for my blog, and I use this tag to indicate something in the post reminds me of them or their interests. A form of marital flirting, despite (and in addition to) the fact we live together and also do share memes in person.

Now that’s what I call gender; a reference to the old music compilation CDs that came up on commercials every year. But, you know, about things that feel Gender™️ to my soul.

humans love boxes; it is in the nature of humanity to desire a sense of structure and form—in part to understand the world around us, and in part to better communicate with each other. For example, this tag system is an act of creating boxes for the purpose of organizing my thoughts/feelings around some of the more intangible aspects of life. It’s a helpful tool our brains use to process data. However, per my next tag, every coin has a flip side…

the tools are meant to serve you (you do not serve the tools) [warning: this one is a biggie for me so skip to the end for a TLDR]; What do you define as a tool? What first comes to mind might be a hammer or other physical implement. In that case, what about the DSM? The DMV? Universities? Systems of Government? Currency? Institutions are tools. Concepts are tools. Objects are tools. Language is a tool. That which is in a state of service is a tool. We aren’t the only animals on earth to use tools, but we still mark their ideation as a sort of Dawn of Consciousness because there truly is no living as we know it without them. Once upon a time, humans took care of each other in community groups as they hunted, foraged, and survived. Now, we have hospitals. See what I mean? It’s so easy to slip into the mindset of “this is how it’s always been” but EVERYTHING, from the clothes on our backs to the words we speak, were once absent from the world and subsequently created to serve a purpose. That is the divinity within us, these acts of creation. When the tools serve us we prosper. When we serve the tools…well, pardon me while I indulge in a little armchair theology: “You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image—any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them nor serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me, but showing mercy to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My commandments.” (Exodus‬ ‭20‬:‭5‬-‭6‬ ‭NKJV‬‬) As a child, I despaired at this commandment. Why should the children experience the punishment of their ancestors? But when I look at this, the first commandment, through the lens of “the tools are meant to serve you, you do not serve the tools” it paints a portrait of generational trauma. Cycles of violence. Harmful concepts persist until a new generation rises to refute them. Think about language for a second—someone defines themselves as <blank> while another cries out that they are incorrect, they can’t use that word because THAT’S not what that word MEANS. Never mind that language is a constantly evolving construct (the words nice, silly, and awful have certainly flip-flopped definitions over time), a TOOL developed by humans for humans to facilitate community through communication. When you serve the tool, you limit yourself to its limits. Your actions, behaviors, even your thoughts are restricted and controlled. Its boundaries become law. Humans love boxes. But when you extricate yourself from its bindings, when you look upon your idols as the tools they are, the only question becomes…how does it serve you? Capitalism is a tool. Democracy is a tool. We can identify flaws, expand boundaries, improve and evolve our tools the way humans have done since that fateful Dawn of Consciousness as long as we view them as such. TLDR; When we serve the tools, our vision is narrowed. When the tools serve us, we flourish.

all flourishing is mutual (in a culture of reciprocity); this tag and all its variants are in reference to the book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer—a book that has branded itself onto my soul for all of eternity. While the book as a whole covers many different aspects of life, history, creation, religion, and being, it is this central thesis that broke my brain the most. It’s so simple to understand and so easy to do, once one actually commits to it. A culture of reciprocity is one where we all give from our excess. Someone with five blankets and four family members to keep warm gives the extra blanket to the one who has none and is cold. It’s not about self-sacrifice or denying yourself what you need, it’s about sharing your blessings with your community because WE ALL WIN TOGETHER WHEN WE TRY TO WIN TOGETHER! This is how ecosystems function. A tree generates more energy than it needs from photosynthesis and shares that energy with fungal systems through mycelium, that in turn supply the tree with nutrients from the soil it could not access on its own. Read the chapter of The Three Sisters in Kimmerer’s book and let it all sink in. Community. Solidarity. Intersectionality. Sustainability. They aren’t ideals for idealism’s sake—they are effective tools in service of the whole. I, for one, endeavor to contribute to mutual flourishing in all aspects of my life.

meatsuits and starstuff; our bodies are made of meat. That doesn’t have to be an uncomfortable thing—we are mammals, after all. But there’s no denying a certain human obsession with the mind and the soul. As Carl Sagan so eloquently put it: “We are a way for the universe to know itself. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We are made of star stuff.” And yet, these three integral aspects of existence often come into conflict. Not to simplify all of philosophy and theology down to brass tacks, but…do they have to be?

“Did the tree of life divorce its body?

Seek to save the soul but hate the bark

Long for freedom from its branches?

Despise the roots that plumb the dark

Are trees ashamed of needing sunlight?

Feeling guilt for being what they are?

Why does man despise the body?

Are we just afraid of death?

Or maybe we're searching

And growing and knowing

Separating good from bad

And maybe we're just tired of hurting

Afraid of losing what we have

Did the tree of life divorce its body?

Seek to save the soul but hate the bark?

What is life without a body?

What is love without the pain?

May we keep searching

And growing and knowing

Seeing both the good and bad

And maybe we could ease the suffering

Unattached to what we had

A man can learn to love his body

Without his soul being undone

You are spirit soul and body

Beneath it all…

…the ALL is ONE.”

—Tree, by Gungor

meatsuit maintenance; our bodies are made of meat. That doesn’t have to be an uncomfortable thing—we are mammals, after all. Do not despair of your vessel, for you are fearfully and wonderfully made! I like to treat my meatsuit the way I would treat a toddler: proactively tend to its needs, provide support for the things it can’t do on its own, affectionately dote on it with treats (within reason for its health and longevity), hold space for its pain with arms wide to hold and heal, arms wide to comfort and protect…never asking for more than what it can give.

arms wide to hold and heal; this is the energy of a mental hug, the warmth of someone giving you permission to not be okay…because it’s okay to not be okay and you are allowed to BE. This is what it means to hold space.

arms wide to comfort and protect; this is the energy of a mental hug, the warmth of someone giving you permission to not be okay…while glaring daggers over your shoulder at the perpetrator responsible and positioning yourself to bear the brunt of another attack. This is what it means to have community.

steward servant shepherd (king); a tag used when I see an example of a person demonstrating what it means to be a good steward, what it means to lead, and and/or exhibits a healthy example of divine masculine/divine feminine energy while in a position of power.

and I think to myself (what a wonderful world); humming along with the beauty of it all.

the vibes and times; that hard-to-put-a-finger-on occurrence when a vibe makes you feel like you’re in a pocket dimension. When something just IS so hard you can’t help but appreciate it. Immaculate vibes. When you take a step back, and it’s just a vibe and that’s all there is to it.

and all God’s people said amen; this tag is usually split into two parts and roughly translates to mean a hearty agreement or an acknowledgement of fundamental truth. It’s a personal reclamation of sorts—I may have left the Southern Baptist Church and its toxic theology, but that doesn’t mean they get to keep all the good toys. Growing up the pastor would say the first part while the audience would respond in unison, and in doing so was an awesome, powerful energy transference. And as much as it could be used to affirm alignment with weighty truths, it was equally used to comedic effect (especially by my Dad at the supper table). Whether as a punchline or words of power, the phrase stuck with me. Here, I have retooled it for my own particular purpose.

the sacred tension; two or more things can be equally true and in complete contradiction with each other. The tension in between may spark discomfort, but it is holy ground. Remember that even the binary is itself a tool, and it is meant to serve you—NOT bind you. Honor the sacred tension between concomitant truths. This is what it means to hold space.

Here is where we begin to get into the tag series systems. Each series acts like a closet organizer for my brain—identifying and cataloging concepts to facilitate a greater depth of appreciation and understanding. My personal goal is to craft turns of phrase broad enough to encompass a wide range of concepts, precise enough to finger the point, and poetic enough to meet my own aesthetic preferences.

I consider them to be living systems (as a good tool should be) subject to evolve in search of what resonates most. Some of these systems may seem deceptively simple, however, I do challenge myself to approach them thoughtfully—in short, to catalog the intangible in a distinctly tangible way.

What it means…Well, what DOES it all mean? How do we define meaning? As the nuns said of Maria in the Sound of Music, “How do you keep a wave upon the sand?” In my personal view, through the act of poetry in motion. Existence is a constant state of being. The moment you think you have it nailed down, something WILL change. So instead of making boxes FOR meaning, this endeavor is to make boxes OUT OF meaning. Whenever I encounter something along the way that has a whiff of answering “what does it mean to…” it gets sorted into that box. Deceptively simple, no? Special attention is paid to verbs and tenses, specifically what it means to HAVE <noun> vs. what it means TO <active verb>.

What does it mean to BE? - to be HERE - where is HERE? - HERE is ME - I AM ME - i am that i am; this tag and its many variants make up my mantra for experiencing existence. Personally…I get in my own head a LOT. This mantra helps me reorient myself in the present. It also helps me address my needs without invalidating my soft little animal body, my valiant meatsuit. I am that I am. Sometimes I am hungry, and so I feed myself. Sometimes I am tired, so I go to bed early. Sometimes I am overstimulated and so I take steps to move to a quieter room, to decline the party invitation, to go on a walk outside, whatever is needed to shift my present state of being as desired. I am that I am. It do be like that sometimes. Wielding these words, I challenge you to banish invalidation to the fucking shadow realm—in the pursuit of living and breathing, it is rarely an efficient tool.

What it means to BE; see above, but a little more to the point. This tag serves to help catalog the essence of being in its myriad of shapes and forms.

What it means to have community; posts with this tag contain some aspect or example of what I believe it means to HAVE community, one of our most fundamental aspects of living and, most especially, a key to the flourishing of all. This one comes up a LOT, especially around posts that look at the way tumblr functions…it’s a funky little community, after all.

What it means to live and breathe; this box is a bit esoteric, but I believe it still to be distinct from similar tags. Before explaining further, let’s look at an example: gender-affirming surgery strikes some people as inherently wrong and they balk at the idea of allowing it at all…but that is a judgment cast from afar, safely detached from need. The people actually asking for it—desiring it despite the stress of surgery or the post-surgery maintenance or the stigma—say they need it to live. I, for one, never want to discount what helps someone stay fucking alive, don’t you? The point of this tag is that you don’t get to decide someone “isn’t living the right way.” And not just life for the sake of not dying, that’s survival-mode, but for the sake of breathing, of flourishing. So chase after what you need to live and to breathe, and stop denying people oxygen for their lifeblood. May heaven on earth be a place where all God’s divine creatures live and breathe with ease. Amen.

What it means to have joy (alt: carving out joy); joy is a noun, not a verb. It’s a thing we seek to find, a thing we carve out of existence itself to possess for ourselves, and that we can carve out for each other

What it means to birth creation; seriously, I love humans, the things we create are so fucking cooooool. Full. Stop.

What it means to be a good steward; examples of leadership, sustainability, and all the other responsibilities stewardship represents

What it means to lead; see previous tag, but hyper-focused on aspects of leadership

What it means to be present; for those moments when you detach from all the stimuli and settle into the awareness around you.

What it means to learn and grow; stretch your mind-muscles, perform meatsuit maintenance, polish up your starstuff, and keep level-grinding life

What it means to listen; shoutout to my late Grandpa’s favorite book, The Awesome Power of the Listening Ear by John Drakeford. Listening is about so much more than using the human ear. It’s a state of awareness, of willingness, and of humility. Listening is how we could heal the world.

Blessings of… “When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed, When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, Count your many blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.” –Count Your Blessings, 1897 “When I'm worried and I can't sleep I count my blessings instead of sheep, And I fall asleep counting my blessings.” –Irving Berlin in White Christmas

What do you define as a blessing?

Blessings of the absurd; the universe is quite often absurd. I love when people lean into the absurd, roll around in it, twirl it around their fingers, or even spit it at each other! Aka 99.5% of tumblr.

Blessings of the blessed; attuned to precious souls sharing their gifts by just being themselves—for example, cute videos of animals and children lol.

Blessings of the beloved; similar to the previous tag, but tailored more towards marginalized communities and expanding who we name as beloved (based on an art exhibit called Naming the Beloved Community at the Donald Gallery)

Blessings of creation (let all creation sing); attuning to the natural world in all its vibrancy and worthiness, in reference to how all of creation sings of cosmic divinity

Blessings of creation (to spin a yarn and weave story threads); attuned specifically to the writing of stories and narratives

Blessings of creation (what it means to create); still workshopping this and variants like it, but the concept is to attune to works of artistic creation in its myriad of forms

[thisisawonderfulusername]

almost normal - the apocalypse

five hargreeves x reader

summary: being pregnant in the apocalypse probably isn’t the greatest thing.

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, no baby yet, that will come in part two ;)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: yall asked for it, and i felt like i could do better, so here is your time in the apocalypse after finding out that you’re pregnant and following this we will have a commission chapter and when they get to twenty nineteen. reading the old a/n that i put here is making me realize how long this took me to actually write 🤡 anyways, this is basically what the original was but focused on the apocalypse and much, much more detailed. i’ll stop now, please enjoy!

being the daughter of two people spontaneously born on the first of october in nineteen eighty-nine, you had been gifted with special abilities, just like them. over the years of your life, they were able to teach you how to control these abilities.

by the time you were thirteen, you were able to create an invisible barrier around yourself. of course, it happened unintentionally at times.

one of those times, it protected you at the end of the world. how you wished it hadn’t for the first few years. but you surprisingly weren’t the last person on the face of the earth.

-

you stood on the doorstep of your home- or what used to be your home. it had crumbled to the ground when the explosion wiped out the entire city, leaving a pile of rubble. it was surrounded by the other houses in the neighborhood, some of which still stood as the flames continued to burn.

this isn’t real.

you pinch your arm so hard that it stings for a few moments afterward, and you start shaking your head. “this isn’t real.” you tell yourself, voice shaking with the fear that this might not be a nightmare.

stepping back from your home, you turned on your heel to run to the closest house that hadn’t collapsed yet. mr and mrs peoples. you didn’t knock, bursting through the front door and rushing through each room that fire was beginning to engulf, searching for any sign of the old couple.

when you got up the stairs and to their room, you stopped dead in your tracks. on the bed, their charred bodies lay next to each other, and you feel your eyes beginning to sting- from the smoke and from what was happening.

the city.

there must be people in the city.

you dash down the stairs as they threaten to collapse, sprinting out of the house and down the road as fast as you can. the route you’ve remembered from walking to school, the one that brought you through the crowded sidewalks.

by the time you get to the most populated part of the whole town you lived in, you’re out of breath, chest rising and falling quickly.

“help!” you shout as loud as you can, starting to walk through the streets, trying not to focus on the buildings that hadn’t made it, the burned bodies on the ground. “please! there has to be someone.” the tears that had threatened you begin to fall, running down your cheeks.

when you get farther down, you see what you think is a real, live person, searching the rubble surrounding him. but you can’t be sure. there’s smoke and your vision is blurry from your tears. “hey!” you shout, beginning to run towards the figure as fast as you can with your labored breathing.

he turns in your direction when he hears your voice, eyebrows raising in surprise. when you stop just before what used to be a building. “please-” you suck in a breath, “please tell me you’re real.”

-

he was the only reason you managed to survive. you knew now that you never would have made it this far without him.

ten years.

you’ve made it ten years so far, and the only reason the both of you keep going is each other- as well as his hope to find the right equation to get you back to your normal lives in twenty nineteen (and saving the world but that could be discussed later.)

until then, you could try your very best to make an almost normal life for yourselves.

after the first few years of moving across the city- and probably into other states as well, you couldn’t tell for sure- you had grown to have feelings for him. you didn’t know if it was because you two were the only ones left on earth, but you didn’t care. you wouldn’t want to choose anyone else to survive with.

eventually, after a few drinks to celebrate the finding of some wine, when your face was flushed with the alcohol in your system and your brain slightly fuzzy, you ended up kissing him.

the next morning, you woke up cuddled next to him, the empty bottle to your side. it brought butterflies to your stomach, and when he woke up after you, you had summoned the courage to tell him how you felt. you were lucky enough to know that he returned the affection.

you were nineteen then, only six years after the end of the world. and for another four years, you had been together.

on the third year of being together, pushing for survival, you found an old jewelry store.

-

“do you want to get married?” you call out, eyes squinted slightly from the sunlight and the strain to see him properly.

he turned at your voice, brushing his hands off on his pants. “what?”

grinning, you step over the wall. “i said,” you stop in front of him and reveal the bands, “do you want to get married?”

his eyes fall on the rings and he stays quiet for a moment, before he looks back to you, and your smile grows at the sight of his own.

“in the apocalypse?“ he chuckles softly.

you shrug your shoulders. "we can’t make it, like, official, but if we ever get back…” you press your lips together for a moment, “i think it’ll have more meaning, since we found them here.”

he seems to think about it for a moment, before he holds his hand out to you, and you clap your hands together from the joy you felt.

when you got stuck here at thirteen years old, you didn’t think you’d have anything close to a normal life. but after a few years, you realized that you could try to make it as normal as possible for yourself.

you slide one of the rings onto his finger, the sun’s light reflecting off of the gold. it’s a silent moment, and you could feel your heart beating faster than usual.

once it is snug on his finger, he takes the other from you, taking your hand. “i never thought i’d be getting married in a wasteland.”

chuckling, you watch as he gently puts the ring in it’s rightful place. “i don’t care where we get married. it would be perfect no matter what.”

five looks into your eyes, and you know that you wouldn’t have this any other way. as long as he was with you, you don’t care where you are or what the situation is.

“i love you.” you mumble quietly, bringing your hand to his cheek as you stare into his eyes.

“i guess i love you too.”

you roll your eyes, moving the hand behind his neck to pull him into a loving kiss.

-

now, it’s been about four months since you’ve ‘married’ five. it didn’t change much about your life, but you could feel that you had a newfound hope. even though you were stuck in an unforgiving world, foraging for food and clinging onto survival, you had five with you.

and now it felt like no matter what happened, he would stay with you. maybe, if you ever did get out of this hell, it could happen for real. that kept you going.

there have been changes, though. for the past three months or so, your ‘time of the month’ never came. at first, you brushed it off. this had happened before- stress could delay it, so you figured that was what it was.

but then it didn’t come the next month, either.

this month, you were beginning to notice a small bump in your belly. you told yourself it could just be you gaining weight from the food you ate, but you couldn’t fool yourself. you can’t eat enough in this world, especially not enough to gain significant weight.

and so the worrying began.

you didn’t tell five at first, keeping the anxiety to yourself as you continued on your treks through the barren land. you would chew on your lip as you walked, and it got to the point where you broke through the skin and it had bled for a bit.

he noticed, but you didn’t know that.

on your next stop for shelter that you would stay in for a few weeks to search for supplies, he brought it up.

-

“are you okay?” he questions, and it catches you off guard for a moment.

you look up from the book that you had found in the wreckage of an old library. “uh,” you hesitate for a moment, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”

trying to get away from his questions, you look back down to the pages of the book as if it would stop him from continuing. from the corner of your eye, you can see how his brows furrowed together.

he was quiet, but only for a moment. “i’ve noticed, you know.” the statement causes your heart to pick up it’s pace a bit, and you hope he can’t see the fear and nervousness that has overcome you.

“noticed what?” you gulp, not daring to look up from the page. you don’t know if it’s the cold air around you, but your eyes are stinging.

five stands from the makeshift seat he had taken on a fallen pillar, moving to your side and sitting in the dirt that was protected from the snow. “you know, you can tell me anything. whatever is wrong, you can say it.”

the book closes as you release it, falling to the ground at your side. “i-” you notice the shakiness in your voice, and you pause for a moment to take a deep breath, “i don’t know how to tell you.”

his arm falls around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. it’s something that has always comforted you, even in the worse days, and he knows that. he knows everything. “just say it.” he tells you softly.

you close your eyes for a few moments, pulling your knees to your chest as you gulp down your fear. “i- i think i’m pregnant.”

a tear that had escaped your stinging eyes rolled down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away on the sleeve of your sweater. it was in vain, as shortly after there were more drops falling down your face.

his momentary silence worries you, and you think if there was a way to screw up everything you've built here, it was this.

“how would you know?” he questions quietly, and of all the questions he could have asked, you think that might be one of the best ones.

sniffling and abandoning the attempt at getting rid of your tears, you take a quick breath. “it’s been a few months since my last... you know,” you begin to explain, avoiding looking at him, “and i’m pretty sure my belly is... getting bigger. and it can’t just be me gaining weight because we don’t eat much.”

you hear him let out a slow breath, and when you look at him in fear for his reaction, he seems to be staring off in thought. you bite on your lip as you try to keep yourself from crying anymore. “five?”

“we’ll figure it out.” he tells you after a moment, and you take in a shaky breath from the statement. “we’ll find a way to make it work.” he runs his fingers through your hair, “we always do.”

his sweet reassurances make your heart skip a beat. it’s unbelievable to you, even after all of the years you’ve been with him.

“god, i love you.” a small sob escapes with the words, but the tears don’t truly show how you feel. you’ve never been so happy.

you’ll get part of the normal life you always wanted as a child. a family.

you were only able to relish in the moment for a few seconds, because five suddenly jolted forward, scaring the life out of you as he grabbed onto the shotgun leaning against one of the walls.

your head turns to where he is pointing it, you saw a woman. but it wasn’t just any woman, no. she wasn’t dressed for the apocalypse like you. she had a clean, properly fitted dress and high heels, her makeup perfectly done.

who the hell is this?

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever  

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs  @andreasworlsboring101​  

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

[lilyofthestyx]

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

oh

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

[violintrees]

Last Night on Earth

Sharing this here cause I don’t have enough to make it a full normal fic but I love the premise and dialogue a lot.

--

Zim had very clear terms for going camping with Dib. First was that the location would not be too wet, second that they would not forage or hunt and bring plenty of snacks, and third was that they would camp in the Voot. He would sleep in the comfort of the air conditioned ship and observe the naturey things from the comfort of his tech.

Dib had rolled his eyes and called it ‘glam-ping’ in a mocking tone, but Zim deserves glamour and comfort!! Especially while trapped on a planet like Earth, even if that wouldn’t be the case for long.

Dib had demanded in his whiney persistent adorable Dib tone that they spend their last day on earth out traveling and staying in the wild. Compared to the city, which had only gotten more polluted and grating in the almost two decades they had resided in, it seemed like a good idea to Zim.

Sitting on top of the Voot, Zim looked up at the sky clearly visible for once. Essential for camping under the stars vibes was the Voot’s bubble force field which keeps cooled or warmed air in and can keep 99% of mosquitoes out (how the 1% gets through is a mystery to them both they were not keen to find out). But it did not obstruct the view at all and the planet’s light pollution did not reach here. The vast sea of the Milky Way’s stars were clearly visible and stirred in Zim both excitement and something.. else.

Was Zim thankful to the Earth for anything? For Dib of course. The human had so thoroughly changed Zim’s existence for the better. Adoring and cherishing him with a ferocity that Zim never knew he was allowed to feel. And with a nemesis and lower gravity came height, about matching Dib (certainly not an inch shorter, Earthen measurements were simply unable to calculate Zim’s greatness). And with height, a new understanding of Zim’s place in the universe. That he could do what he pleased, and maybe actually should. What pleased him was exploration, science, and the love he had found.

It’s not so much leaving Earth that was stressing Zim. No, it was the uncertainty of what would come next. Zim had never worried about the future, it was meaningless to worry about what came next when the mission eventually would come anyway. The path of an Irken is very set in place by design, Zim was already out of the norm for how he tried to steer and move within that system. But being adrift without a mission and with a squishy mortal Dib to take care of? It left Zim feeling squirmy and uncomfortable. Money, health, security. Dib would say we are thinking like adults and that’s so much more complicated than childhood rivals.

Almost equally unnerving was the wretched insecurity that had crept into his mind. Dib’s eyes had been glued to the windshield watching the stars as they traveled the mountainous Earthen area. Zim couldn’t help but feel a tinge of worry. He tried mentally crushing it but it was still there. What if the novelty of Zim wore off when they got to space? Will Dib find more interesting things?

Of course not!.. right? He was Zim! The most amazing-

“Hey space boy.” Dib peaks up to the roof and scares Zim into full spider fight mode out of his stupor. “WOAH woah. Are you alright honey?”

Zim feels a bit overwhelmed and just nods before slinking back down into a crisscross on the roof. Dib climbs the rest of the way up and sits next to Zim.

“You want to talk about it?”

No, because Zim knows he is being foolish with these wretched insecurities. But he trusted Dib like no other.

“What so interesting about the stars eh Dib” the earth boy tilts his head. “You already have the incredible, the most.. You have me right?”

Dibs eyes gently search Zim’s in confusion before Zim yells out. “I AM ASKING FOR YOUR HORRIBLE HUMAN REASSURANCE.”

“Oh! Of course. Come here Zim.” Dib climbs up and sits next to Zim, dangling his legs off the ship. He opens his arms and Zim instantly slides into his lap facing him and wrapping his legs around. Dib’s hands rest on Zim’s mid back, on either side of his pak and he pulls Zim gently into his lap. Dib bleps for a second in concentration then cups Zim’s face with his right hand.

“You know, maybe you are right. About space and the stars I mean. I think there is something better. Cause you see, Humans have been trying to go to space for decades and have been mapping and looking at the stars even longer. But, you know.. while space may be incredibly vast, complex, and captivating, it has nothing on, what's going on in your eyes.”

Zim’s eyes widen and Dib smirks. “Just like that. A wonderful cosmos and its only a small part of the most incredible being in the universe.”

Zim gasps and blushes bright blue then begins teasingly punching Dib.

“You! You flirt Zim! You awful wretched!!”

Zim grabs the front of Dibs shirt and pulls the human face to face, trying to scowl but only able to match Dib’s dopey smile. Zim has his arms around Dib’s shoulders, making a little pleased purring noise. Dib reaches up between Zim’s arms and cups Zim’s face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No but can Zim kiss you?”

“No.”

They sit and stare menacingly at each other. A game to compromise the other. Zim gently places his hand on Dib’s chest and pushes them both down. He lies his head on Dib’s chest and lets his purr sound out louder while giving Dib the biggest pinkest puppy eyes.

Dib whispers. “My amazing chaotic horrifying supernova.”

Zim pushes himself up onto his palms and looks away gagging as a massive blush bursts forth and his antenna bap Dib’s face aggressively. “Blegh YOU SQuishy stinky-“

“I love you so much.”

“How dare you! Yes you can kiss me!!”

Dib rolls his eyes and sighs “too easy-“ before quickly getting cutoff by Zim pressing their lips together. Dib sees Zim’s eyes squeezed shut tight for a moment before shutting his eyes. He is chuckling a little into Zim’s mouth as he kisses his alien and wraps his arms around him to keep him close.

“Victory is sweet. Can I kiss you again?”

“Hmmmmm, I don’t know.”

Dib smiles and bleps his tongue out and Zim gasps again. “This is violence!! Manipulation of Zim’s squishy feeeelings for you!! Yes you may proceed.”

They proceed to lie against each other, exchanging gentle affection and many kisses. Zim is lovingly petting Dib’s hair and Dib rubs at the base of Zim’s antenna making Zim gently sigh and push further into Dib’s hand.

“Give Zim more attention human. All night.”

“Of course space boy.” Dib cups Zim’s face again. “Is this alright?”

Zim immediately nods and blushes. Dib laughs. “hehe gay alien”

“Pfft coming from the big gay human.”

“Gay ass space bug.”

“You’re so gay you gave up trying to expose me.”

“In-gay-der Zim gave up his mission for gay.”

Zim sputters and Dib laughs, both incredibly in love. “HAHA victory for Earth once again! Had to tie up the score before we leave.”

Zim can’t help but laugh too. “I never doubted you would manage somehow.”

[phae-undergrove]

Hi there! I have a question and I know you said there were no dumb questions but I still feel like this one is a little... silly.

Okay, so, I'm poor. Like, college-student poor, with little time and almost no resources except the Very Expensive herbal store down the road (though I am attempting to grow my own herbs).

I'm always worried that when I do something small like do a little chant over some tea (I drink a LOT of tea) or just cast some good vibes into the universe that they don't... feel witchy. As in, I just don't feel like I'm casting with magic... or doing it good enough.

And it makes me worry over if I'm a witch at all (though I have trust in my deities).

I guess my question is: What are some ways that I can feel... better? more witchy? more magical? with little and simple spells?

Hey there! Thank you so much for asking this question! I feel this is something so many struggle with but are a little worried to say “hey I’m struggling here with this” 😅 and I know for a fact I have struggled with this myself. I think the most important piece of advice that was ever given to me was that doubt kills magic. And to dive a bit further into that, your magic is only as strong as you believe it is. If you doubt your magic is working then chances are it probably won’t work or won’t work as effectively. So really try not to doubt yourself. When you find that doubt creeping in examine it truly try to find the root of why you feel this way and then nurture that root and talk sweet to it. Tell it how powerful it truly is, and believe in it, I will ask you this just for something to ponder over, why do you fully trust your Deities but not yourself? Your deities trust you! Just something to think over!

I think some helpful ways to get into your own groove is to examine what you enjoy. What empowers you? Is it nature? Maybe it’s music or the arts. Maybe physically creating something bring a you joy. Maybe it’s taking care of others maybe it’s learning of history. really examine what empowers you and try to incorporate that into your craft. If it’s nature maybe going for nature walks or listening to nature sounds while you do your daily tasks. With song or music maybe you just envision the negativity leaving while you dance or sing or play! While spells and rituals can be hard work your day to day craft shouldn’t be draining you of all your energy so if it is there is something that needs to be balanced out more.

Simple spells are the best to get started and get into that groove I would look for ones that may fit well with your interests. For me I LOVE spending time outside in nature so I will often forage for many herbs (basically everything has a magical use) but I also like to take that time to give thanks to the earth and her bounty’s and allowing me to have access to that harvest. I will often leave little trinkets or apple slices out for the nature spirits as thanks, or I will pour a cup of tea for my diety and I to enjoy together! These little things I find really really help me especially if I’m having a hard time getting into my groove again. Or even just finding it.

Every stone,crystal,herb, tool, is just that. A tool. And tools only help us focus our intent, they are not needed for magic. I mean like You yourself are made up of so many elements. 23 to be exact. You have 38 TRILLION cells that carry these elements and 84 minerals across your body. Through 8 gallons of water. You have been built from nothing. From the blank slate of the universe Your entire power lies in the code of a double helix to microscopic for our naked eye to even see. If that isn’t already daily magic I don’t know what is.