#I love the spiders and i have in depth thoughts on all of them

[ola-the-clown]

Thank you so so much @sanza-17 for the tag, ik it's been like a month, but time isn't real when one is busy and i rly wanted to draw a nice proper ref for Miiriath 💔

tagging uhh @vinyatar and @bluotbanner in case they wanna talk abt the designs for their idiot assassins (affectionate)🌸

a more in depth description under [read more]

Miiriath is of a dark-grey complexion, with a bit of a purplish tint, while her hair (very long and with a bit of a curl to them) is a deep, cool green, akin to the sea during storm. Standing at mere 152 cm, she is of a petite built, with small chest and shapely hips. Her body is kissed with small beauty marks, thought the most distinct one remain on her face, two under her left eye and one on the right of her bottom lip. Her piercing eyes are in a lovely shade of a well-aged wine, with long eyelashes and a hint of light makeup; she loves to paint her lips as well, her favourite crimson lipstick being so dark it looks near black. Red is also coating her nails — filed down into a sharp claws-like shape.

She has many outfits, as any fashionable mage would, nearly all of which are neither the most practical nor armoured, because overusing magic for everything in her life includes the protection spells. Most have some sort of insect-theme going on, be it in the details (tiny spiders) or their shape and cut (resembling wings in one way or another), and are (annoyingly) layered.

The one above I've chosen as her sort-of default.

Despite being a Telvanni (and proud) she oft chooses to wear red because (according to her personal tastes) it is simply superior to the typical brown. Please ignore any associations with a certain other (worse) House; if she could have it her way, she'd have switched it around 💋 Miiriath is also fond of purple, and if (if) she finds herself caring for someone (a very rare occasion indeed), they are likely to be gifted a plum or lavender coloured garment.

Her preferred metal is gold, though she doesn't scoff at silver. As expected, amethysts and rubies rule her jewelry box, with an occasional moissanite here and there. Rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, collars — she has it all, and loooves to accessorize. Gold is also present on her clothing, be it in a form of leafing, gilding or threads. She has more than enough of it to wear it, and she's certainly not shy about that fact.

Her up-dos change depending on the occasion, but she only ever lets her hair fully down in private or the intimate company of a few lucky individuals. Otherwise, she has it done into an elaborate hairdo or, for lab-work, an intricate braid. Hair-adornments vary from small ornaments to heavy headpieces, the latter of which is usually spelled to feel light.

The dark tattoo that extends from her arm all the way up to her face and the side of her torso, is meant to represent the flow of magicka, and is in on itself magical; shimmering under a certain light and moving in accordance to her moods and usage of magic, swirling, shipping and curling. Most of the time it's barely noticeable, easy to dismiss as a trick of the light, but once the movement becomes apparent-- Run💀

[vegalocity]

"Syntax is canonically closer in age to MK and Mei" wait, he IS?!

okay not CANONICALLY in that the spiders' ages were laid out- but context clues imply he's probably more 'late 20s early thirties' than the 'forties maybe even fifties' area that the more 'adult' Adults like Tang and Pigsy and Sandy fall into

in the post this tag was taken from he's basically calling MK attractive while he's also dissing him (when he explains the cpu burn he explicitly describes the first part of it as 'you look good and are animated nice' and yes they turn it into a Jojo's joke but he WAS directly saying MK was attractive to get there) implying it wouldn't be wierd for someone around his age group to find someone of MK's age group attractive, implying they're closer to eachother's ages than not

and MK and Mei are presumably early 20s or so granted Mk's been running deliveries for pigsy for two years before the start of the show and in china you can't get your driver's licence till you're eighteen so if you assume he went right into it the second he could and didn't like 'try college before dropping out and working instead' or something then he's bare minimum 20

And also he Literally dabs when the spiders take over the city

He's got massive burnt out Late Millennial vibes to him honestly- and others say he's got gamer vibes (which i don't really, he's got massive Trekkie vibes to me lmao) if that implies anything

he probably is just somewhere in the space between MK and Mei and Tang and Pigsy in age area, because he's definitely not young enough to be misconstrued as a Teenager like the former do but absolutely not old enough to be considered middle aged like the latter are...

[flametrashiraarchive]

hi may I ask for

pussy drunk muzan please♡

Alright, look... I'm absolute trash for Muzan at the moment. I already thought he was hot and then that last Swordsmith Village episode just... ugh... I love him.

Anyway, I couldn't resist answering this right away. I've also done headcanons for human Muzan and demon Muzan because I'm a hussy for him.

NSFW below the cut.

He may be wealthy, but Muzan's life is far from comfortable. He hurts; he's angry, frustrated, he resents the world. Physical activity is hard on his body but the man still has needs.

Human Muzan

You enter his room when summoned, hopeful that the doctor has given him good news this time.

"Of course not. That fraud only deals in disappointments."

"I'm sorry..."

"Keep your worthless pity. Just... come here."

You approach his futon and gently take his extended hand. His grip is weak and unsteady. "Yes my lord?"

He arches an eyebrow, knowing that you're aware of what he wants.

So you get into position, lying sideways across the top of his futon so your hip is resting where he would lay his head. You lift your skirt and open your legs so he can rest his head on your inner thigh as he lies on his side.

Muzan doesn't speak a word. He doesn't praise you, doesn't thank you. He just inches his head closer and begins to lick your pussy.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out. If you make too much noise he'll scold you and stop, so you do all you can to remain silent. Muzan Kibutsuji is the only man you've ever met who eats your pussy solely for his pleasure.

He tongues your hole, lapping at your essence as if it could cure him, his deep groans vibrating through you as he feasts. And when he's licked up every drop, only then does he turn his attention to your clit, slowly circling it with his tongue, enjoying the way it swells from his attention, stopping when he feels you're wet enough again and turning his attention back to your cunt.

He goes back and forth between the two motions, taking you to the edge of ecstasy again and again until you cum. His long, dark hair splays across your thighs as he fucks you with his tongue and palms his cock. He strokes himself slowly, setting a pace which isn't too strenuous for him, and all the while he continues licking your overstimulated clit in those long, slow circles, making your muscles tighten with every torturous lap.

He keeps going, his groans getting louder as he makes you cum once more and he keeps on stroking his cock.

"Mm-more," he moans, his deep, commanding voice cracking with desperation. "Nghh... give it... to me."

His composure breaks entirely as he shudders through his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucks your clit, tonguing it to get you off one last time.

The doctors confirmed long ago that Muzan cannot produce heirs, but that doesn't stop him from fingering his cum into your pussy, making sure you take in every last drop of it before he lifts his head and says flatly. "I'm finished. You may leave."

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

Demon Muzan.

Muzan appears accompanied by the sudden strum of a biwa, standing behind his work desk. "Get over here. Assume the position."

Thick veins throb in his forehead and his crimson eyes are murderous.

Either the upper moons have pissed him off again, or his latest experiment to reproduce the blue spider lily potion has gone awry. And when he's in a rage like this only one thing that can calm him.

You climb onto his desk on your hands and knees and put your chest down, sticking your ass in the air toward him.

"See? My requests are so simple and yet you are the only one who seems capable of obeying them." He slides a finger down your slit, spreading your growing wetness. "You bow for your king as you should."

"Because I-"

"Silence."

A low, primal growl rolls from the depths of his chest as he leans forward until his face is no more than an inch from your pussy. And then he inhales.

That's all the warning you get before he drags his tongue slowly from your clit down to your hole with a deep groan.

"Oh, you never disappoint me," he whispers, though whether he's speaking to you or that specific part of you, you aren't certain.

He starts with small, fluttering licks, teasing your sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. But before long he can't hold back, and his licks become frantic and sloppy, devouring you with fervent hunger.

Outside of this room he appears cold, calculating, elegant and distinguished, but you bring out an all together different sort of beast.

"Muzan!" You bite your knuckles to keep from crying out and incurring his wrath.

He grips the backs of your thighs and parts your folds with his thumbs, pushing his tongue deeper into you. His wanton moans fill the room as he drags his tongue over your flesh again and again. You can't hold back from crying out in pleasure as you cum, your pussy throbbing with ecstasy as he continues eating you.

As a demon, he has the strength to fuck you like he always wished he could as a human. At the sound of your desperate cry, the last remnant of his restraint snaps. He stands, licking your essence from his lips as he thrusts his cock inside you, shivering at the sensation before he starts to pump his hips back and forth.

His elegant fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place, burying himself to the hilt inside you and fucking you with short, fast thrusts, keeping your cunt stuffed full of him.

"Oh... oh... yes..." he grunts beneath his breath.

He pulls out only to push two fingers into you, pumping them back and forth before he takes them out again and stuffs his cock back in. And as he fucks you harder, faster, he brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from them.

That's enough to send him over the edge; your exquisite taste accompanied by the sensation of your needy cunt squeezing his cock. His back arches as he cums, baring his teeth as he fills you.

His breath is hot and heavy as his lips graze your shoulder blades.

"Such a good and obedient servant," he whispers, his hair falling over his brow.

And then he straightens his back, regains his composure, and disappears once more, accompanied by the strum of a biwa.

[skrunklyshrimp]

Succulent - Kinich

Spiderman AU, where Kinich is Spiderman and you are the Gwen Stacy.

Kinich unknowingly explores the same suspicious temple as you, saves a few Saurians, saves you a few times, confesses his love to you. The basic stuff.

Notes: I have had major Kinich brainrot, especially with the sunflower edits of him on tiktok. So I took it upon myself to make a spiderman AU where he's spiderman! Yay! He's definitely OOC but I tried my hardest so please try to enjoy :3

(P.S. this stuff was written before he was released so this is not cannon!)

You were a simple researcher, wandering into the depths of Natlan. There was some elemental disturbance in some uncharted land underground, not wanting anyone else to get ahead of you, you embarked on your journey alone.

“Maybe I should've hired a mercenary.. Kinich would’ve been great.” you mutter. Kinich, a great mercenary, has such a cold demeanor yet he always stares at you and gives you such a warm gaze. You shake off the thoughts of your tiny crush as you slowly make your way through rough terrain. There were lava geysers all around and a hint of evil in the air, perhaps it was the abyss order.

You carried on, almost slipping into the multiple geysers all around. Thankfully you finally reached a safe point and decided to set up camp, just a simple tent and some traps in case enemies attack.

“Just a simple salad today, I have to preserve the meat for the hardest part of the adventure.” You say to no one aloud. 

You decide to mark down some observations of the cave you're in. So far you haven't come face to face with any enemies which is quite odd for an area with a highly condensed elemental energy. Perhaps someone has come before you. You mark off any important landmarks, different rocks, ancient markings. Sighing, you place your notebook down and shake your sore hand. 

“Time to sleep.” You stand up and stretch before heading into your tent for the night.

.

“Log number 18. I've still been searching for the cause of the elemental disturbance. Many enemies have appeared so I've done the reasonable thing and wiped them out. I do see a temple in the distance that radiates high elemental energy, so I will be checking that tomorrow but, right now it's time for me to rest.” Click. Kinich places down his recorder. 

“I’m not even getting paid for this gig. Why am I even doing this?” He sighs, leaning up against a nearby wall. 

See but Kinich knew exactly why, it was because of you. See Kinich had two jobs, one as a mercenary, one as a hero. He was known as Spiderman in Natlan, the way he would effortlessly swing with his grappling hook, and kill enemies of Teyvat as quickly as a black spider. He wore a mask in this identity, nobody knew who he was. Yet as he was weakened from an enemy far too strong and there he laid on the ground. You walked up, and instead of finding out who this mysterious Spiderman was, you kept his mask on, only pulling it high enough to wipe blood off his mouth. From then on he continued to have encounters with you, it always occurred whenever he got injured in battle, you were there by his side to patch up his wounds.

“I still don't even know your name.” Kinich reminisces about the moments spent together. “I'll get rid of this and protect you.” His promise fades away in the giant cave, nobody but himself to see it true. Kinich sets up a small sleeping bag, finally deciding to get some rest.

.

“New day, new adventure!” You say, trying to be optimistic. Although the truth is you could be farther from it. The elemental energy feels even more condensed than before, and there's this feeling of impending doom following suit. You quickly pack up your supplies not wanting to waste anymore time on this research trip. 

After what feels like hours, but in reality was probably no longer than 30 minutes, you see a temple in the distance. 

“This…” You stare at it from afar, shocked to even say a single word. The elemental energy that is pouring out from there is outstanding, there is definitely something suspicious going on. This is the first time in this adventure where you had second doubts, you definitely should've hired a mercenary, maybe Kinich. It's far too late for that now you decide as you begrudgingly step towards.

.

“These puzzles are definitely different from the ones we see around Natlan, right Ajaw?” Kinich looks at the strange mechanism.

“You really do suck if you can't get us through here. Wanna impress your lover researcher right? Right? Also why are you wearing that stupid mask, nobody is around.” Ajaw teases and questions the poor Kinich as he starts to get pissed.

“One I don't have a lover, two, this is for Natlan’s sake, something you must not understand, and three, I’ve gotten used to wearing it.” Kinich shoos away the now red Ajaw. “Finally figured out how it works though.” As he says that a door that was previously locked opens up.

“I see you've come to stop our plans once again traveler- ergh?!” A flame welding abyss lector pauses mid speech.

“Traveler? Do you mean the blond haired saviour going around helping people?” Kinich asks, recognizing the famous traveler.

“You're kinda totally ruining the plan I had dude.” The abyss lector says in defeat.

“What do you mean ruining the plan, huh!?” Ajaw yells, still upset about earlier.

“Well, the traveler and I were supposed to fight. After all, I totally ran away from our fight last time, heh. Just didn't wanna die you know?” The abyss lector laughs off his misfortune. “Nevermind that now I have to kill you, after all I can't have you leaking our information out and about.”

“Let's win this Kinich!” Ajaw says, trying to pump up his dear servant.

“Whatever you say I guess.” Kinich responds.

.

“These puzzles.. They're complete, someone had to have been here before.” You conclude. When you arrived at the temple you saw numerous doors open. There were many unfamiliar marks covering the temple head to toe, you only recognize a few as abyss symbols. Through careful observation you notice an odd placing brick on the wall, not wanting to inspect it with your own hands, you opt for a nearby stick. You take a deep breath in and push against the suspicious brick, allowing a secret passage downwards to open. 

“Thank god that wasn't a trap.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

After finishing writing down all the information you need about this current room you decide to explore this secret passage, it's basically just a bunch of stairs leading downwards.

.

“Shit you're one slippery guy, and what the hell is with that skill you're seriously like a spider.” The flame bearing abyss lector complains, definitely aggravated from the injuries inflicted on him.

“Yeah I tend to go by Spiderman, don't let the name wear out.” Kinich says, quickly using his skill to cover his eyes with his grapple, reducing his eyesight.

While covering the abyss lector’s eyes he uses a secondary grappling hook to start to spin himself, effectively wrapping the enemy up. 

“You damned brat! You'll pay for this!” The abyss lector yells while using his pyro skills, effectively destroying the web like wire that blocked his vision and disabled his movement.

“Too bad you weren't paying attention.” Kinich mutters, slicing his claymore against the back of the abyss lector, leading to its defeat.

“Ajaw, find anything of interest on his body, I'm going to check this machinery out.” Kinich orders Ajaw around, to which Ajaw complains but compiles.

In this room there's multiple computers showing different results, many different files of interest, and… a tube? Leading to where. Kinich is left to wonder. He takes a closer look at the tube to see a purple substance flow through it.

“Ajaw, find out where this tube leads, we'll switch jobs.” Kinich says, shoving Ajaw away from the flame abyss lector's body.

“Meh meh meh meh. Mr. Bossy-pants.” Ajaw mocks but goes right to finding where the location of the purple substance is coming from.

.

“I should've turned around.” You can't help but complain. You had been walking down these stairs for god knows how long, with barely any light, and no clue if there's enemies at the bottom.

“I'm so dead aren't I.” You cry. In the middle of you trying to accept your fate you see a brighter light. Hopeful that it's the bottom you pick up your pace only to be met face to face with, prison cells?

There were glass cells, no, chambers filled with Saurians, a purple substance being sucked out and pushed into a hole in the middle of the room. You take careful steps forward, heartbroken, shocked at the sight you're seeing. The dragon's that inhabit the lands of Natlan, being sucked dry of their elemental energy. This has to be the work of the abyss order, you conclude. You look at the seemingly bottomless pit in the middle of the room. 

“This is… despicable. How could they do this to innocent creatures?” You mutter, looking down into the pit with sadness.

“Oh? What's my number one fan doing here?” A familiar voice echoes in front of you.

“Ah, Spiderman-!?” You look up only to be met face to face with an upside down Spiderman.

“I'm not surprised you're here, but why are you here alone? You don't have a vision so this place is draining you of your energy.” A slight bit of concern covers Spiderman's voice.

“I had to explore. This cave was uncharted and I wanted to resolve this issue as soon as possible.” You answer his question, “Not to mention you're hurt yourself. When did this happen?” He just scratches the back of his head.

“Just had a fight just now I'm alright though. Had to win to see you once again.” Spiderman admits. “It looks like I'll have to have another fight though. Please stay back alright.” He says while pulling down his mask, just enough to show his mouth. He moves forwards enough to give you a light kiss against your lips. He gives you a smile before putting his mask back on and jumping right into the fight.

You stand there for a few seconds processing what just happened. Not only did the Spiderman just say he wanted to see you again, but he also just kissed you? You hear the noise of abyss mages getting hurt and remember what Spiderman told you to do, so you try to walk over to the other side, away from the fighting.

You watch in awe as the amazing Spiderman uses his webs to his advantage, dodging the attacks from abyss mages and using them to weaken the shields so he can do heavy damage with his claymore. You’re so enamored by his performance you don’t realize how close to the edge of the pit you get too.

“Finally done with these abyss mages.” Kinich mutters, turning to you only to see you dangerously close to the edge, with abyss mages behind you. “Watch out-!” Kinich tries to call out to you but it’s too late, the abyss mages push you into the pit.

Kinich is quick to react, quickly using his grappling hook to connect and grab you, which ends successfully. Only problem now? He had two electro abyss mages in front of him, his grappling hook unusable at the moment. The panic that Spiderman was going to lose his battle, and someone he holds close to his heart.

No, he thinks. He can’t let it happen again, he can’t. The few times Kinich opened his heart it was left broken, with the death of his father and now soon to be you. He can start to feel his arms weaken and-

“How did you beat me here!?” A scream comes from up top. Kinich’s eyes open in surprise, then his lips curve into a small smile.

“Ajaw, could you please get these mages out of their shields, I need to get our friend out of this pit.” He orders, no, commands Ajaw, to which he slowly complies. Ajaw begins to attack the abyss mages, holding his own as Kinich quickly pulls you up to the top, hoping you were still alive in his grappling hook. 

“It’s funny really, I don’t understand why a simple researcher like you caught my eye.” Kinich mumbles to himself seeing your body appear from the purple smoke filled pit. Admittedly Kinich was scared out of his mind when you weren’t moving, but a simple pulse check let him know that you weren’t dead, but unconscious. A huge wave of relief flooded Kinich knowing you were safe. That’s when he swiftly grabbed his claymore which he had disregarded and landed the final attack on the abyss mages.

“We’ll report this to the warriors in Natlan. They’ll free the surviving Saurians.” Ajaw suggests which Kinich agrees.

Kinich reaches up and removes his mask, his face covered with scratches, blood, and sweat. Yet even so, he smiles warmly knowing that you were safe.

.

Your head is spinning. You can’t see anything. You’re asleep. You have to just wake up. Wake up.

“Ugrh.” You groan, slowly opening your eyes to a recovery room. “Where am I?” You manage to speak out loud.

“You’re awake! I’m glad. See Kinich here found you in a temple and apparently you were all passed out, if he were later you might’ve died.” The doctor explains to you. Kinich? He found you but the only one who was at the temple with you was- oh. 

You quickly sit up surprising Kinich and the doctor who was at your side. You smile, “Thank you for the update doctor, but I need to speak with Kinich alone, if that’s alright.” You say weakly, nonetheless the doctor understands and leaves the two of you to your business.

“So, you’re Spiderman.” You state, waiting for him to deny, after all it can’t be true the the mercenary Kinich can also be the amazing Spider-

“Yeah.” He answers. Your thoughts pause, you freeze, and you just stare at him in shock.

“Why?” You ask, and he just tilts his head in confusion. “Why would you tell me your secret? I'm just a regular researcher, I don’t even have a vision.” You question, confused on why he would reveal his identity.

“It’s simple. Out of every fan I meet, you’re the only face I can remember, if I see you in a crowd I always tend to go into that direction. I may not even know your name but you show me with such care despite not knowing who I am.” Kinich confesses, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“It’s right to be nice to everyone, even unknown identities.” You say.

“I guess you’re right, so will you humour me for a while and go on a date with me?” He asks you, looking at you with a warm gaze and a loving smile.

[prythianpages]

The Family Reunion | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: Azriel accidentally welcomes your dysfunctional family into your home.

warning: I can't really think of any at the moment besides violence from a witch fight, basically you being protective over Az

a/n: There's not very much known about the witches in the ACOTAR universe so I'm just taking creative control here (: This can be read as a stand alone fic.

As Azriel sits in your living room, the familiar weight of concern settles in his chest. The past few days have felt like a quiet storm and the bond between you, has fallen eerily silent far too many times to go unnoticed. 

Of course, he’s already asked if you were alright but he sensed the lie as it brewed in your eyes before it slipped out of your lips. The shadows that remain at your side keep him updated on your whereabouts but besides a crow following you one day, there’s nothing else to report. He wonders if you’re upset with him.

Azriel tries to engross himself into the book–as it’s one you recommended to him– in his hand but his eyes keep drifting from the pages. He steals glances toward the closed door of your study. A vibrant green glow, your magic, spills from the edges of the door. He tries to pull on the bond but cannot find you on the other end. You shut him out. Again. 

Three knocks pull him out of his thoughts. Ignoring the skittering dance of his shadows and the way Pearl–your pet spider–retreats back to her corner, he opens the door. There’s no one on the other side. A perplexed furrow forms on his brow as he peeks into the hallway, dispatching his shadows to investigate further. They return with no insights, leaving an unsettling silence in their wake. 

“Hey Az?”

Azriel closes the door and locks it. He turns to see you stepping out from your study. You smile at him sheepishly, toying with your glowing hands. “Can I have some of your blood?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, despite the look in your eyes, and you must mistake his silence as apprehension because you’re adding: “Just a drop!”

He would’ve gladly granted your request but before he can even utter a word, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Your eyes widen, a touch of panic flickering within them. It’s a fleeting moment where control slips from your grasp, and in that heartbeat, your side of the bond bursts open.

His wings quiver as if struck by an invisible force. A torrent of emotions crashes over him like unrelenting waves on a storm sea, flooding and overwhelming his senses. Worry etches lines on his face at the raw intensity of your feelings. 

“Toad’s blood!”

In the blink of an eye, he’s standing in front of you, his hands cradling your face. The hazel depths of his eyes burn with concern but you avoid his gaze, your frantic eyes darting around the room as if looking for something–someone.

“y/n, my love,” Azriel implores softly, his heart pounding in his chest as he desperately tries to navigate through the sea of your emotions. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes land on the door and a palpable tension fills the air. “You opened the door.”

Azriel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Someone knocked.”

You swallow thickly. “How many?”

“What?”

Your voice is firmer this time. “How many knocks?”

“Three.”

You’re pulling out of his grasp abruptly. You run back to your study and a trail of perplexed worry etches further across Azriel’s face as he follows after you. With a furrowed brow, he observes your hurried actions. Windows are slammed and shut and locked in quick succession. He blinks and you’re running to your room next. “y/n, please talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong!”

You pause, if only for a brief moment, your eyes finally meeting his. “You just opened the door to a gateway of evil.”

“Evil??” Azriel’s wings flinch, the word carrying an unexpected weight. “What evil?”

“My mother.”

A sense of impending danger guides your every move and you’re sprinting past him. Over your shoulder, you urgently command, “Quick! Lock all the windows!”

Azriel responds without hesitation. He races back to your living room, determined to secure the window he opened earlier. As he does so, he sees a crow flying toward him. It’s familiar to both him and his shadows. The dark tendrils hasten to close the window beside him and the crow, unable to halt its trajectory, collides with the glass.

“I think that's all of it,” you say with a sigh of relief. However, it’s short lived as an overlooked detail dawns on you. The window in your kitchen.

Azriel, his shadows and you are already racing toward the kitchen but despite your efforts, you’re too slow to close it. Your sock clad feet glide across the floor and Azriel wraps an arm around your waist from behind, preventing you from falling. It tightens around you, drawing you snugly against him in a protective embrace, just as the crow flutters its wings menacingly and tauntingly above you. His eyes narrow at the bird and his shadows poise like a snake ready to strike. 

Shrouded in a swirling cloud of purple smoke, the crow undergoes a mystical transformation. Its plumage shifts and twists, feathers unraveling and converging as if guided by an unseen hand. A silhouette begins to take form amid the enchanting mist and as the last tendrils of purple dissipate, a beautiful older female stands before you.

“That is not the way to welcome your mother, Dearest.”

**

The last time you saw your mother was when Hybern became allies with Spring. She had asked you to join her coven, out of worry for you if you stayed in the court that was crumbling apart, but Feyre had already secured plans to bring you to Velaris. The City of Starlight was a safe haven for you…until the Hybern attack unveiled its secret. She’s been reaching out ever since–sending countless letters and when those did not work, she started sending ravens.

Though she delves in dark magic, you know your mother means well. She loves you and has been protective of you. Overly protective. Perhaps, you were being dramatic about it all but you weren’t ready for her to meet Azriel yet. You didn’t even get to finish the protective spell you were planning on casting upon him. All you needed was a drop of his blood to complete it…

“Mother,” you reluctantly greet.

She smirks at you. Every muscle of your body tenses and you place your hand over Azriel’s to let him know it's okay. Ever the perceptive one, your mother catches the subtle gesture. Her gaze falls upon the protective presence behind you. She narrows her eyes and points a perfectly manicured finger at him as if to say “I’ll deal with you later.”

With a wave of her other hand, a cage materializes out of thin air. You can barely make out the tiny green creature in it before your mother is thrusting it into your hands.

“Hold your father, will you? I need to go fetch your sisters.”

She says it so casually, it’s comical almost. You grimace as your gaze flickers to the small lizard. It nervously scurries within the small cage it is confined in and you’re tempted to drop it. 

Your father, a former high noble fae from Spring, had been cursed into a feeble gecko at the powerful hands of your mother. She did it shortly after she caught him trying to take your life at the mere age of two. He had plans to kill your mother next and take her heart for his own so now your mother loves to torment him by carrying him with her so that each remaining day of his life is as miserable as can be.

Verena, your mother, walks over to your door as if she owns the place. With an air of confident authority, she swings it open, revealing two females on the other side—your sisters, each birthed from a different father. One, with dark, flowing hair and sinister eyes, wears a smirk that mirrors Verena’s. Maeve. The other, with lighter hair, possesses kinder eyes, and delicate white feathery wings. Thea. She looks at you apologetically. 

You’re slipping out of Azriel’s grasps and joining your family in your living room. The cage falls from your grasp, rolling onto the ground. Binx dives out from the shadows, eyes alight as the cat spots the green creature within. A curious paw swats at it, its claws peeking through the thin gaps at the top of the cage but no one bats an eyelash at the terrified squeak.

A scowl settles onto your face. “Mother, Maeve, Thea. As quickly as you arrived, I want you all to leave,” you say, clapping your hands at them for emphasis. “I did not invite you here.”

“No,” your mother agrees with a nod but her eyes are fixed on something–rather someone behind you. “He did.”

**

Four pairs of eyes are on him and Azriel only cares about one. Yours. His knowledge over your family is limited. He knew your father was a piece of scum but he did not know he still lived. There’s a tightening in his chest and he knows it's coming from your side of the bond. He sends a wave of reassurance through it because if you’re okay, he’s okay. Even if your family is a little overwhelming.

Verena circles around him, her gaze sharp as the crow she morphs into. Azriel stands still, his shadows swirling defensively. When Verena extends toward the talon of his wings, the shadows snap at her, causing her to withdraw. A wicked grin appears on her face.  “A Shadowsinger,” she observes. “What is your name?”

“Azriel.”

Verena hums, stepping back, her eyes scanning every inch of him. There’s a devilish gleam in them when they settle upon his large, membranous wings. He instinctively tucks them back.

“By The Mother, you look absolutely ravishing,” purrs your dark-haired sister.

The lighter haired sister beside her smiles. “He is quite beautiful.”

“Maeve,” the darker haired sister introduces herself. Her dark brown eyes sparkle in amusement. She holds her hand out to him. “We haven’t yet had the pleasure. y/n has been hiding you for far too long.”

Azriel does not take her hand. Instead, he watches her with wary eyes and she laughs. As her eyes deepen in hue, mirroring the unsettling darkness akin to yours, an ominous glow envelops her hands. It resembles a delicate yet foreboding cloud of gray smoke that dances around her fingers. 

**

“Don’t touch him,” you growl, raising your own hand. A raging green fire roars from your fingertips as the darkness takes your eyes.

Maeve turns to hiss at you. Her cloud of smoke is steadfast as it continues its path to Azriel. Your mate. You hiss back but your mother rests a hand on your shoulders and out of the corner of your eye, you swear Thea sends a reassuring gesture your way.

“Oh, come on.” Maeve persists, her voice, both enchanting and seductive, beckons like a magnetic force. She steps closer to him, ignoring the heated glare you send her way.  She places a hand on his arm and you're shaking with rage as you recognize the haze that clouds Azriel's eyes. 

“You look hungry. Would you like a taste? What do you think, Shadowsinger?”

Smoke wraps around him, infiltrating his senses and charging the air around him with an alluring energy.  It smells like chamomile and lavender–a scent intricately tied to you, the enchanting witch he calls his own. You’re shoving away from your mother and prancing on your sister, the two of you tumbling to the ground. “Let him go!”

The room becomes a radiant spectacle, bathed in the ethereal clash of gray and green magic. The air is charged with the tension of their coexistence and you’re pinning your sister to the floor beneath you. “Why do you always have the thirst to take everything I have?”

“Because it’s fun,” Maeve hisses at you, her dark eyes a reflection of yours. “Besides, our family is in need of a new pet, don’t you think?”

“Girls, stop it this instant!”

“Can it be something cute this time? Like a puppy!”

“Thea, shut up!” You say brusquely as you look up.

Thea winces at your tone. Maeve takes the sliver of your distraction to push you off of her. The two of you hastily get to your feet and you hold your hands out ready to unleash the vibrant, verdant rage coursing through your veins at her. 

“I think y/n is ravishing this evening. Don’t you?”

Azriel’s voice is light, dreamy almost as he’s in a trance. He blinks and the tendrils of magic briefly cloud his vision before it clears. He steps away from Maeve’s cloud of smoke, repulsed by her magic and his eyes are searching for you.

His gaze, steady and filled with a profound warmth, captures yours and it feels like a gentle cascade of water extinguishing a flame. The vibrant green fire in your hands gracefully fades away, mirroring the softening of your eyes in the tender exchange. 

“And he’s not even lying,” Maeve frowns with a huff, her voice and eyes returning to normal. Disappointment is written all over her face. No one has been able to escape from her power of seduction before. “How dull.”

Your hand finds solace in Azriel’s and he locks his fingers with yours. You smile at him and he smiles back. You are the only enchantment he desires and your heart swells. You're so happy you could kiss him--

Thea, always one step ahead of everyone, gasps. “He’s your mate.”

Your mother’s eyes undergo a shadowed transformation of her own, reminiscent of a crow’s ominous gaze. Azriel feels a subtle unease but you remain composed. Gracefully, she approaches, her movements mirroring the fluid elegance of a bird. With a discerning sniff, she assesses the air around you both. Her keen eyes flicker to Azriel’s chest–where the emerald, the greatest token of your affection, securely rests beneath his leathers. His siphons awaken in response, pulsing with a powerful and protective luminescence.

“Your heart. Your precious, precious heart,” she whispers, her voice on the brink of tears.

There’s a drastic shift in her voice when she speaks again. It darkens with a mother’s fierce intensity and echoes through the room like a hissing serpent. “You’ve given it to him.”

Your mother outstretches her hand, toward Azriel, her gesture laden with an unmistakable agony. With a resolute urgency, you press your hand against Azriel’s chest, your other hand still wrapped around his. You can feel the pulse of his heart beneath the gem. It’s fast and erratic but gradually soothes under your touch. 

Given your family's history, you can't blame your mother for reacting this way. Maeve's father was a charming merchant, who enjoyed traveling through the sea, and was very aware of his heartthrob status. Your mother was not immune to his allure and though she did not love him, she was possessive over him. So when she caught him touching another female, she cut his hand off, forcing him to always think of her for the rest of his life. She keeps the hand she severed preserved in a jar at her house. 

On the other hand, Thea's father was a peregryn warrior who loved studying the stars in his free time. He was probably the best male out of all three...if he hadn't picked his loyalty for his court over your mother. Surprisingly, your mother left him alone and unharmed but she made a good example of him to you all because even the kindest of men were not to be trusted.

But Azriel is different. 

His sweetness, care and love create a warmth that gently embraces your heart. You’ve spent a lifetime shielding your heart as your mother taught you but with Azriel, it feels different. He is your mate. Your other half, crafted by The Mother and Cauldron itself. In his presence, you find a haven where vulnerability is not a weakness but a welcomed connection. 

“I love him.”

Wheeling with a snarl, she fixes her sharp gaze back onto you. Her hand tenses midair and her talons peak out before dropping it back to her side. She leans so close you can feel her breath tickle yours.  Her gaze travels down to the obsidian necklace you keep on at all times for protection and she feels her throat tighten when she sees the new charm attached to it. It’s an initial. A for Azriel.

“You stupid, foolish girl. What have you done? Have I taught you nothing?”

Azriel growls and his shadows tense as they await their master’s next order. Your hand tightens against him and you send a wave of reassurance through the bond. This was exactly what you had been hoping to avoid. The last male you introduced to your mother was turned into a frog and you hadn’t put up a fight as the male had fallen under Maeve’s spell. But this time, you were willing to fight and defend what was yours. 

“I think it's quite brave,” a dreamy voice cuts in through the tension. “A true testament to love.”

“Shut up, Thea.” Maeve snaps. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you ask for a reading!”

“Azriel.” Your mother’s voice is sharp, demanding attention. “You hold something extremely dear to me now. If I find you to be careless with it–if you so much as hurt y/n in any shape or form…I will hunt you down, rip your heart out and eat it for breakfast.”

“She’s not joking,” Maeve decides to chime in. “She ate Thea’s lover for dinner once.”

“Must you always jump at the opportunity to remind me?” Thea retorts with a look of pained disgust on her face and you almost feel bad for her. She did love that male terribly, as undeserving as he was.

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, my dearest,” your mother says in a perplexed tone. She rolls her eyes at the scoff she received in response. “He was a human.”

“He was the love of my life!”

“And others too.” Maeve cuts in, lips curled into a lopsided smirk as she gazes at her nails. “Mother did you a favor there.”

“This,” you say to Azriel, lifting your chin toward your family. Your mother and sisters continue to bicker back and forth while Binx zooms after the rolling cage imprisoning your father. You sigh deeply and Azriel now understands why you were on edge all week, why you had shut him out.

 “This is my family.”

As if on cue, your family turns to him. Binx rests a paw on the rolling cage, halting its movement. Even the green gecko inside seems to peer curiously at the Shadowsinger, its tiny eyes glinting in the dim light.

 Your mother, a formidable figure with an air of ancient wisdom, focuses her attention to Azriel. The expression on her face is a complex blend of skepticism and concern. Her dark eyes narrow as if probing his very soul–a look that has sent many to mad chaos and the room seems to hold its breath as Azriel meets her gaze. 

You step in between them both. “Mother, must you always do this?”

“It’s okay. I have nothing to hide,” Azriel reassures you as he holds your mother’s gaze, unwavering and resolute. “I would never dream of hurting y/n. I love her.”

“He speaks the truth, mother. He’d kill for her, I’ve seen–ow!”

Your mother’s keen eyes linger on him. Despite Thea’s words, she wants to see for herself. The room feels suspended in time as she carries on with probing into his very soul. She’s peering into the depths of his heart, seeping into its cracks and searching for any hint of insincerity. The tension in the room starts to dissipate as she must sense something she agrees with. Slowly, her lips gradually curve in a smile–a genuine one. 

“I like this one,” your mother says as she turns to you. “I shall spare you the part of my visit where I ask you to come back home with me as I now know it will be pointless. So let’s have dinner, hmm? All this excitement has me famished.”

Your mother clasps her hands together, springing the room into action. Binx resumes messing around with your father and Maeve makes her way to your kitchen, your mother following after her.

“I did not agree to you staying for dinner!” You call after them, shooting Azriel an apologetic look.

“She was going to agree anyway.” 

Azriel turns to your sister–the closest to a normal relative you seem to have. Her blue eyes, flecked with silver hold a spark of otherworldly wisdom as she regards him. 

“You can see the future?”

She tilts her head, a cascade of blonde curls falling over her shoulder. Her lips curl into a knowing smile and her peregryn wings flutter. “Only what the stars tell me,” she replies cryptically. “Would you like me to read your cards?”

Azriel contemplates for a moment. He turns toward the kitchen and his eyes find you. You’re engaged in a lively debate about the perfect amount of herbs, claiming that only a pinch of thyme is needed while Maeve stubbornly shakes her head.

“Out of my kitchen! Go seduce a pig for all I care before I hex you with an angry nest of bees!” 

His love for you deepens with every passing second and he nearly startles when he feels a flutter in his chest. It’s you. You echo the sentiment very loud and clear through your end of the bond.

“No.”

“Why not?” She teases, though she already knows the answer.

“Because right now, I have everything I could ever want.”

**

Once your family departs, relief washes over you, and you finally feel able to breathe freely. Leaning against the door, you release a sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter shut momentarily. When you reopen them, your gaze lands on Azriel in the living room. He's seated, head tilted back, eyes closed, weariness evident. Moving towards him, you saunter over, and without a word, he instinctively pulls you onto his lap, his eyes still shut in a shared moment of exhaustion and solace.

Your hands tenderly cradle his face, bathed in the soft glow of your green magic. You massage his temples, your fingertips tracing away the remnants of the headache your mother’s earlier probing had left behind. A contented sigh escapes him at your soothing touch. 

“Thank you,” he breathes and his hands find their place at your hips.

You press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I should be the one thanking you.”

He opens his eyes and there’s a subtle perplexity among them. “How come?”

“Because they’re chaotic,” you answer and tipping your chin down sheepishly, you continue, “I’m sorry for shutting you out. I was doing my best to keep them from coming but I should’ve just told you instead. I was trying to protect you from all of this–”

A scarred finger props your chin up, urging you to look back up at him. The hand that remains at your hip tightens with a comforting reassurance. You find yourself lost in the depths of his beautiful hazel eyes and like always, they anchor you like a tranquil forest bathed in sunlight.

“You don’t have to protect me from this. I accept it–all of you. I love you,” he murmurs. The corner of his lips tug up into a small smile. “Though I do find you unbearingly adorable when you’re protective.”

“Adorable?” You can’t help but laugh. Others would beg to differ. You're sure your eyes have given Cassian nightmares.

“Especially when it’s all for me,” he nearly purrs, pressing kisses to the corner of your eyes. The very eyes he adores, even when they transform into inky pools of black.

He kisses the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. “Did you mean it?”

Azriel hums against your neck. “Mean what?”

“What you said to Thea earlier,” you say, mindlessly confessing that you had been listening to his short conversation with your sister. 

You feel him smile against you. “Of course I did. Whatever the future may bring, as long as I have you, that's enough for me. You’re my everything.”

When he pulls away to look at you, you’re beaming at him. His nose brushes against yours and your hands cup his face again, eyes flickering to his lips before you guide them to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss. You slide your tongue along the softness of his bottom lip, reveling in his honeyed taste and he parts his mouth for you, a small sound of pleasure slipping between your lips.

You kiss him and kiss him until the future seems like a distant thought, overshadowed by the perfection of the present.

a/n: I was driving to an appointment when I randomly thought of how chaotic reader's family is and wanted to introduce them formally in case I want to incorporate them in future imagines. This takes place shortly before the one where you get kidnapped.

Also, I'm currently watching the Witcher and I couldn't help myself and use this scene to help me write the part where Maeve tries to seduce Az.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[mementomoriwithacherryontop]

Esther's Torture Table: some thoughts

When Edwin is strapped to Esther's torture device, clearly having been at it's mercy for hours, at one point he cries:

This always struck me as odd. Esther is no where near him, in that moment. She doesn't need even need to touch him to turn her horrific device on; she uses her magic for that. Why does Edwin say this?

On my latest watch through, I realized why.

When I first saw this scene, I assumed the flashbacks meant Edwin was remembering the last time he was tied to a table. That was nearly 100 years ago, when he was sacrificed to Sa'al.

But I think he's experiencing more than just traumatic flashbacks*. I think he's actually reliving that moment. Maybe he's even reliving some of the torture he experienced in Hell. When he screams, and begs, and cries for his abuser to, "Please! No! Stay away! Please!" He's not talking to Esther. Not exactly.

He's talking to the bullies who stole him out of his bed and began his waking nightmare. He's talking to Sa'al, begging for mercy as his body disintegrates and reforms in Hell. He's talking to whatever demons he was sold to later, begging them to please, stop hurting him. He's talking to the Spider-Demon.

This device isn't just ripping apart his ghostly body. It's also ripping into his mind. It's breaking him open in every way it can. And he's utterly helpless to stop it.

--------

*I had a reference to PTSD here that was not the best word choice (although, I am sure Edwin is also suffering from significant PTSD, and I would have loved to have seen that flushed out in a second season). I replaced the phrase with "traumatic flashbacks", as I am not qualified to talk in depth about PTSD and all the nuances surrounding that clinical diagnosis.

[glacierclear]

Having some mad fuckboy!Leon thoughts rn

After he's unlearned all the stuff he taught himself and is basically done with the whole fuckboy thing oh man he would be SO soft. Holding your hand? Check. Cuddling at his dorm? Check. Being more gentle and loving during sex? Also check.

Also, stealing his hoodies. He'd melt for sure

oh, for sure. healed fuckboy!leon would be a SIGHT TO BEHOLD.

he wouldn't be perfect...

progress isn't linear. he'd stumble a lot. make a lot of mistakes and backward steps. you would need to be patient. you would need to be careful. especially in the early stages. because damn, he's trying. he's trying so hard. and you need to acknowledge the effort, even if it's hard to see, because any praise towards this will mean so much to him.

it'd come out especially on his bad days. he's more impatient. short-tempered. lashes out over seemingly mundane things. you'll need to be firm but not demeaning. catch his tells, his habits, and figure out the real reason he's behaving the way he is.

you'll need to slowly teach him the true depth of his words. that they hurt you just as much as they hurt him. he's unfamiliar with the idea of accountability, so you need to teach him about consequences. let him know you're upset and angry at him. but just because you're upset doesn't mean he's irredeemable. he'll assume any pushback is you ending things permanently. he needs the space to fuck up and forgive himself.

and damn it all, he's the jealous type. possessive. protective as all hell. it's toxic, and you need to teach him boundaries. it'll be tough. he worked so fucking hard to get you, doesn't he deserve to have you the way he needs? but no. you need freedom. he'll learn eventually, but be prepared to send a lot of "im safe and i miss u" texts to him when you're out with friends.

speaking of toxic. the toxic masculinity will be hell to unpack. sometimes it's nice! he insists on you being passenger princess. he insists on picking up the bill (well, once you're actually dating). he doesn't mind taking care of spiders (and fine, just because you asked nicely, he won't kill them). but...the bads get real bad.

displaying any kind of vulnerable emotion is like pulling teeth. when he's nervous, scared, anxious...he'll take it out on others. or himself. early progress will be made when he's blackout drunk and spilling everything to you. he reveals the deepest, most fragile parts of himself on these nights. it's like he's an entirely different person. and the next morning he'll do his best to sweep it all under the rug, but you have to fight for it. accept him and love him despite how "totally fucking lame" he acted (his words, not yours).

that being said. the good parts? oh yeah. Boyfriend Material 100%.

he'd do anything for you. anything. don't even say shit as a joke because he'll do it. at a certain point he doesn't even care if his friends think he's being stupid. you're his whole world. he'd wear stupid t-shirts for you. go to that concert you're dying to see even if he thinks the music sucks. he'll bash his head into a wall and learn to bake french pastries if it'll get you to smile. through hell and high water, he'll follow.

and yeah, he weans himself off social media. stops posting thirst trap photos and cuts ties with his sneaky links. but the lack of external validation is felt, and it kind of falls on you to fill the void. clingy won't even begin to describe what he is. he'll resort to begging. he will. late to work in the morning? that's not his problem. you're staying in that damn bed and you are cuddling him. you think him wearing tank tops in the middle of December is just a dumb mistake, but you catch on quick when he starts to shiver and needs to huddle you for warmth. "you want me to die of hypothermia? c'mon, babe. get closer." and yeah. those ice cold hands are going straight on your stomach. have fun.

part of the excitement will come from truly learning who he is as a person. most of his herculean facade is a persona. he doesn't actually like beer. he likes dry whiskey and refined clear liquors. he doesn't actually enjoy parties. the crowds make him nauseous, and he can always blame it on the alcohol. he's not actually all that into sports. you figure out he has a well-loved public library card and he knows the mystery section like the back of his hand. he's vibrant. shockingly intelligent. gets that light in his eyes when you nudge him about his interests. it'll be hard to get him to admit it, but his favorite part of the week is huddling on the couch watching nature documentaries with you.

and it's a two-way street. he remembers everything about you. early on in your relationship you casually assume he'll never keep track of the important dates. that's the stereotype, right? you couldn't be more wrong. birthdays. anniversaries. doctor's appointments. your fucking dog's yearly vaccine. he won't necessarily go all-out, not until you're more of a long-term thing, but what he does is meaningful. sincere. you won't get $500 of flowers and chocolate for valentine's day, but he'll abduct you from work, drive you out far, far into the countryside. lay out a patchwork blanket and stare at the night sky. he brought your favorite brand of pita chips and sneakily worms a gift box in your hand. it's that stupid $15 thing that's been sitting in your online shopping cart for weeks that you could never justify buying. and yeah, he'd appreciate a blowjob under the stars, but seeing you happy is enough.

and you could never begin to imagine how loving and passionate he can get during sex. it's totally different than his usual flavor. casual hook-ups and one-night stands are merely a fraction of his power. he tends to avoid intimate gestures on those nights. no eye-contact. hardly any kissing. he likes it rough and he likes it fast. but with you? he takes his time. commits your body to muscle memory. his gaze is intense, and he watches every reaction, trying to map out your flesh like a cartographer. he'll happily make out with you for upwards of a couple hours before you even begin the real foreplay. and you always cum first. always.

oh, but if you're not a fan of PDA...he might be a problem. he's proud of you. you're the hottest thing on two legs as far as he's concerned. he'll have no issue grabbing your ass, wrapping a hand around your waist, kissing along your neck, whispering the most obscene things in your ear. it's not even to make a point. there's no rhyme or reason. he just wants to. and you're right there. and what right does the world have to tell him to stop? does it make people uncomfortable? who cares. he'll lay off if it really bugs you that much...but if he catches anyone staring at you too long he'll ramp it up. it's almost aggressive. you turn to scold him, noticing how his eyes aren't even on you. he's staring at someone else. someone who's looking at what's his.

he's a yes man, too. if you need restraint and careful guidance in your life...he's not the one. he'll support any weird, out of the blue hobby you want to pursue. if you even joke about quitting your job he'll egg you on. "i'll drive right up there and tell your boss i'll fuck his wife!" and you have to talk him down. he'll punch the sun for you. he'll be behind every impulsive purchase. every 4am trip to walmart. every instinct to feed your id. any "little treat" you want to have he'll get it. because you deserve the best. if you ever want to have a stable bank account you need the be the voice of reason. because it's not gonna be him.

yeah. he'll have a lot of problems. don't worry about that. but, at least with fuckboy!leon, you'll almost never have any doubts that he loves you. once you manage to pin his heart on his sleeve, it's there for life and it'll always be yours.

[sunofpandora]

 V I R A G O                   

Chapter 4

Neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader

Nice Going, Romeo

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–

Chapter four synopsis: After years of tension, Y/n and Neteyam have finally made up and have agreed to re-establish their friendship. Because of the chaotic events of the last few days, Y/n hits her breaking point due to all the stress and has an argument with Spider. Meanwhile, Neteyam basks in his lovesick haze.  »»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———–➤»»

WARNINGS:

Mentions of a stroke??? (its a joke)/Lo’ak and Y/n being platonic soulmates/ mentions of cutting hair/ mentions of anxiety and grief/ I think that’s it??

Author’s Note

My beautiful readers! Goodness, it's been a  minute hasn't it?? I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. D0 you like my new dividers?? I thought the arrows were on theme hehe. Also, they really help space out the details, warnings and synopsis area a lot more so everything up here isn’t so chunky. Comments and reposts are much appreciated as usual.  

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

The room is dimly lit, no thanks to the shitty lamp that emanated a sickly shade of yellow on the small bedside table next to Spider’s bunk. 

High camp was silent. The rest of the clan had retired to their homes for sleep. The atmosphere tonight is cinematically melancholy. Thick shadowy mist, like the kind that falls just before a thunderstorm. 

Spider has been sleeping for the last few hours. Water and food kept close by on a tray on the floor. 

So much has happened since the accident. Your intervention with Neteyam, your new appointed position as a teacher, the weight of it all still heavy on your chest.

Neteyam and you had a complicated history to say the least. Your love for him has grown with you. From a child's softly sewed heart, patchwork pieces of moonlight and magic and sweet things. Chasing each other across shin-deep streams and unmeasured mindgames. Innocence unrestrained by a child’s imagination. 

You were a wild child. Unafraid of unruly sensations that snap and scratch at the scarred skin stretched on your bones. You were taller than Neteyam until you were 11, despite him being older. You remember him looking up at you with all the wonder in the world

And then you grew older, shamefully throwing yourself into his arms. 

Within the depths of your bliss, you found a sanctuary with him. Newfound effervescence, two souls choking on their words to describe eachothers beauty. You remember chasing eachother through the forest after sundown, catching the colors caught in the sky,  hues of red and orange bargaining for dominance as the sky stretched into indefinite lengths. 

Liquid glass visions and sweet tasting sunlight, bright orange arrows greedily repel the monochrome traces that perturbed from the daylight hours, 

He swore to you. 

He looked you in your eyes and he swore to you.

He would protect you. No matter what. 

Thoughts of you were sanctified.

He told you he would take you anywhere you desired. 

The disparity in it all was hollow promises.

 You sit up, your ears catching the sound of the blanket that draped across Spider’s body slipping off to the floor.

“You’re awake.”

You wasted no time. You stood up from your sitting spot in the corner to kneel next to the cot he laid on.

He sat up with a groan, his eyes lazily blinking to adjust to the light.

“Hey.”

He whispered, patting your leg.

You cracked a smile, buty it faded when your gaze drifted to his bandages.

“Does it hurt?” You whispered. 

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I think Norm and Max gave me something for pain.”

You nodded, slowly. Shifting to rest on your knees.

He allocated steps of silence for you to rest your words. But for some reason, you couldn’t find them.

It confined itself in your throat. The feverent sting of tears and bronze and venom gathered in dark corners of your heart.

“What?”

You whispered, waiting for him to explain why he was staring so intently.

“I don’t know. You’re quiet. You're shaking. And you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I almost did. Because of your stupid ass.”

He let a rough breath out, glowering in annoyance.

“Y/n. Everything was fine. I fell. You’ve never fallen?”

“Because I had my ass half-hanging out of a broken aircraft? No, actually.”

Your voice textured itself with all the harshness that rewired into carcass of throned fear. The heaviness in your chest is still embedded, sacred and silent but not senseless. 

His gaze tremors in a pattern between you and the floor.

You leaned back, a choked breath leaving your lips.

“Spider, tonight I thought was the last time I’d ever see you breathing.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you.

“I’m fine. Look at me-

It’s just a few bruises.”

“That’s not the point, dumbass! It could have been worse.”

Spider had nothing to say to that. He reveled in the silence that thickened the air.

“I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t need you to come to my rescue.”

Those words wound you even more when in his eyes you see he’s debating whether he regrets them or not.

Spider was older than you. And you were always told stories of how your mother saw a child alone in a great big world regardless of whether he was a human or not. It broke her heart.

Growing up, you always threw yourself into fights for Spider.

Refusing to play games with other children that called him names. Learning at the ripe age of 8 how to make sure he had a spare pack whenever he left the shack, and how to hook it up to his mask, thanks to Max and Norm.

You and Lo’ak running through the forest to collect new fruits to use as dye to paint his skin, hoping the  azure streaks and stripes would stain his skin.

It was funny, really. How he was protective of you despite you being the one that was taller, stronger, faster.

You knew spider was grateful for your parents. He loved them like his own. Mourned them so heavily when they left this world and moved on to the next. But you also knew it wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t easy being a human in a clan that was still healing. It wasn’t easy being the son of Miles Quaritch. 

When the world around him seemed like a sword, you became a shield.

A habit you had picked up since childhood. You pride yourself on never mistaking any part of his for weakness.

But how could you not feel solicitous?

When you and your world felt too big, and he looked too small, when even the air denied him to breathe freely?

The ache in your chest is almost firstful, palpable in immediacy of the realization that he had become the sword in this moment.

Your tone clawed and mangled with the pain that was morphing into anger.

“If you don’t want me to rescue you, don’t almost kill yourself.”

You hissed, your mind snatching the sense of guilt from his earlier remark.

He scoffs.

“Oh of course. As usual, you’re the hero and I’m just the human you’re in charge of keeping on a leash.”

“I wouldn’t have to keep you on a fucking leash if you used your brain once in a while.

And what the fuck does that mean?”

Spider sits up a little more, glaring at you.

“You’ve always been perfect. Put a bow and arrow in your hand and the clan thinks you’re some deity from the heavens sent to protect everything that breathes.”

That was unnecessary. And really fucking immature.

“Don’t glorify me. And don’t ever hold my dedication to protect my people against me.”

“No one asked you too! It was all the sudden you were training with Jake. Next thing you know your Lucy the fucking Lutientent or some shit. Would it kill you for once; to not be the hero? Would it kill you to-“

Before he could finish, you snatched the picture on the bulletin board next to some photos Norm and Max had hung up in the shack where spider slept. 

It was a picture of a spider had taped up on the wall when he was a child.

A picture of your mother holding him on her hip, smiling for max behind a camera as he insisted on taking a picture of them. 

The picture hurt you to look at. How young your mother looked. Your mother had always been beautiful. But something about the her glow, evident of her early years of motherhood and healing after the war.

You shoved it into his chest, watching his eyes widen as he scrambled to hold it.

“Would it kill me? It won’t kill me, but this war killed her. So my apologies if I refuse to let it kill you, or anyone else I care about.”

Spider was stunned. He stared at you, his eyes shadowed with regret.

You stood to your feet, mocking his glare from a few seconds ago.

“I know you didn’t ask for this. But guess what? I didn’t either.”

“Y-“

You didn’t even want to hear him speak, much less listen to him berate you about apologizing for a mess you were only trying to fix.

You turned for the door, ducking under the top frame, minding that it was not made for Na’vi to enter and go as they please.

You felt like the floor was being torn open with each step as the feeling of cool wooden metal tiles turned into the grassy patches outside the shack.

You jumped down the steps, grounding yourself both mentally and physically  on the familiar air of the high camp, the night’s scent thick with high emotions and heartache.

The meds Norm and Max gave Spider must have some kind of mind altering drug side effects because he knew better than to raise his tone with you.

You and spider never fought.

Well, that wasn’t true. But when you did, it never got to a point of either of you leaving without resolving it.

You ran your hands through your braids, tugging lightly at the ends.

You wished the night would just swallow you hole, you paced around in a circle, cursing under your breath.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fucking-

Fuck!”

You rasped, reaching for the natural stone wall that encaved high camp. Steadying yourself with deep breaths.

You finally manage to soothe yourself just enough to imagine that entire encounter went much smoother.

Eywa, how you yearned for nothingness at this moment. 

You loved Spider, but sometimes he opens his mouth and suddenly you're one step closer to considering alcoholism.

“Y/n?”

You spin around on your heel, hand instinctively resting on your knife handle, prepared to defend yourself, your stance stiffened, your tail curling protectively around your leg.

“Easy kiddo. It’s just me.”

Jake arands with a hand resting on his waist as he peers down at you. 

You let out a breath you weren’t sure how long you were holding.

“What is it with your family and sneaking up on me!?”

You whisper-yelled, trying not to wake the whole clan.

Jake rubs the back of his neck, his tail swaying awkwardly.

The night air takes a tenor of star-strung sounds that harmonize with the of the imbricating symphonies of pandora’s nocturnal life. 

Jake gestured back to the shack.

“Are you all done there?”

“How long were you standing there?”

You couldn’t help but sound slightly accusatory. You hoped he wasn’t eavesdropping on you and Spider. 

You don’t really want Jake pushing himself where he didn’t belong.

He shrugs.

“About 30 seconds.”

You let out a sigh, running a hand down your neck, the motion an attempted anodyne to calm your nerves.

“What are you even doing here? It’s late?”

You query, tilting your head.

He paused before answering.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, Y/n. You had one hell of a day.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

Were you the happiest with Jake right now?

No. Not really.

Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he has been planning on setting you up to train either Makeyo or Neteyam for weeks without informing you. You thought he valued you as a warrior. For your skill. For your courage. For your vigor and vigilance. To be tossed into a position without as much as a warning? Has he lost respect for you? Maybe Spider was right. You were a sword. Forged from fire and bloodshed and grief.

Eywa had to be fucking with you. Why is that when one argument with a sully ends, another one comes from around the corner.

“I’m fine Jake. Neve better.”

Jake sighs, running a hand down his face.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I know I should have told you sooner. I know. But this was my best option.”

“Not even a warning?? Not even a heads up?? the fact that you had already decided I was going to become someone’s teacher before deciding who I was going to teach! You just kept running in between Makeyo or Neteyam.”

Jake looked down for a moment, he had no excuse for why he did it, allowing the regret to inchoate into him.

Your voice was a whisper now. Hoarse and exhausted, contrast to your usual pragmatic approach to speaking with Jake.

He was your superior. The Olo’eyktan of your clan. A leader.

“Do you think I’m not strong enough anymore?”

 Jake shook his head, placing a hand on your shoulder, leaning down slightly.

“Y/n. Listen to me. You are one of the strongest warriors this clan has ever seen. You fight with honor. But you can’t keep throwing yourself into fire over and over again. And if you have to, you’re not doing it alone. If I can get someone with half your skill to support you while you’re in the sky, I’m gonna do it.”

You glared. “So you’re going to assign your son to hover behind me while I fight?”

“Short answer? Yes.”

You let out a huff, feeling yourself getting worked up again.

“I don’t need Neteyam to chaperone me.”

Jake threw his arms up, followed by an over exaggerated sigh.

“It’s less about you being ‘chaperoned’ and more about keeping you alive, Y/n!”

In response? You had nothing to say. All you knew is that you were tired. So, so tired.

Tired of arguing. Tired of the cold glares you had distributed throughout the day. 

Jake sighed, wrapping an arm around you supportively. 

“Sweetheart you look dead on your feet. You need some rest.”

You were silent as Jake walked you across highcamp to Mo’ats tent. 

He pulled back the flap, the smells of grinded herbs and salves, the fresh smell of the wood wafting through the air.

You ducked inside, plopping yourself on the ground.

“Jesus Christ, when’s the last time you slept?”

He crouched down, pressing his palm to your cheek, making you look up at him, 

“I don’t need sleep”, 

you mumbled hissing at him weakly. You collapsed onto the pile of woven blankets that rested in the corner.

He closed the flap behind him, moving some of Mo’at’s supplies out of the way so you could sprawl out.

“You can rest here for tonight. Take some time for yourself. Meditate or something.”

You raised a brow, your ears flicking upwards.

“Meditate?”

“I don’t know, kid. Just do something to calm yourself down.”

Jake walked over to you, tossing a blanket over you and handing you a parcel, wrapped carefully by leaves.

“What’s this?” You murmur, staring down at it.

“Dinner. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping tonight’s meal.”

You frowned, not even remembering you were so rushed to meet Spider after your chat with Neteyam, that you completely forgot to eat.

“Well shit…Thank you.”

You held it up, nodding towards him.

He stood up, waving you off.

“Just make sure you eat all of it. You’re not an old lady, and i’m too young to force-feed you like you are one.”

You cracked a smile. You really were grateful for Jake.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

He sat on his knees next to you, adjusting the blanket to drape over your shoulders, patting your back a few times for good measure.

“Are you okay, Y/n? Really, be honest with me, kiddo.”

His voice was softer thai time, laced with concern and honesty. 

You sighed.

“I had an argument with Spider.”

Jake sighed, as if he were relieved.

“Thank god..”

You sat up, confused tp say the least.

“Why is that a good thing?”

“Well I'm just happy it’s that and someone’s not messing with you. I wouldn’t want to have to throw punches.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Please. You know I’d fold anyone anyday.”

Jake gave you a hearty smile, running a hand down your back.

“Damn straight. My money’s on you.”

You chuckled weakly, feeling the tiredness wash over you.

Jake rose to his feet, looking at you one more time before leaving.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. And eat your damn food.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

The next morning…Neteyam’s POV

Have you ever woken up feeling like you could pull the moon out of the sky with your bare hands and gift it to the most beautiful person you had ever seen??? Have you ever woken up feeling like even the smallest of shifts in the wind sang someone’s name?? Have you ever woken up feeling like one singular soul could somehow hold my existence in her palm with such ease?? Have you ever woken up feeling like the air is a bit lighter? Like the sky is a bit brighter?

Maybe it’s just me. But ever since last night..Ever since iv’e earned her trust back, I’ve felt as if I could brivet around the forest like a brainless fool, just basking in the absurdity of this amorevolous haze.

Did I mention she hugged me-??? Just wrapped her arms around me mid of my sentence. Eywa, if she was an ocean I'd drown in her. 

When I woke up this morning, I blinked slowly, allowing the early morning sunrays that filtered through the small open spaces in the woven material to leak it’s light onto me. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling its warmth encompass me.

There was a stupid smile on my face that I wasn’t aware of.

I stare up at the ceiling for a moment. Letting my thoughts drift to the farther corners of my mind. All my burdens and worries slowly follow suit.

“Psst! Teyam! Are you awake??”

I roll over to my side, sitting up a bit, and as I angle myself to rest on my elbows, i’m faced with big golden eyes that could only belong to Tuk.

“Hi Tuk.”

I yawn, trying to clear the hoarseness out of my voice. 

She blinks at me, her tail flicking behind her. The echo of her laughter embodied the lightheaded ecstasy that already embedded its energy into my brain this morning. She yanks the blanket that was covering my legs off of me, tugging at my arm.

“Come on! Mama said it’s time to eat!”

I groan dramatically, humoring her.

“Tuktirey, I don’t think my legs are working-

Oh no, there I go. Gravity’s increasing on me.”

She squeals as I lean forward, letting half my upper body weight hang on her as she holds my limp figure up with her much smaller arms.

“Neteyam! You’re too heavy!”

She whines playfully, attempting poorly tp push me upright again.

I let up after a moment, watching as she squeals with laughter before running to Kiri’s hammock, quickly yanking her blanket away before scurrying to jump on top of a snoring Lo’ak.

I chuckle to myself, folding up my own blanket and leaving it in my now empty hammock as I duck under the divider flap in the tent to distinguish areas with a barrier of sorts. I guess when you’ve had as many kids as my parents have, its better to try and break down a large marui into different quarters.

“Ma’itan, did you sleep alright?” I look  downward to see my mother glancing in between me and the fruit she was cutting up, the juices leaving slight stains on the tips of her fingers.

I sigh, the breath leaving my lips in an accidental dreamily manner. As if i’m caught in a mirage, my steps almost stumble over each other, it’s intractable. As if the light of the morning has transferred into the weight in my movements.

I sit down next to her on my knees. “I'm a great mother, perfect, even.”

She smiles at me, but there's confusion in her gaze.

I don’t think my stupid smile has faded because of the way my father pauses from sneaking his fingers into the bowl of pitcher plant nectar to stare at me. 

We lock gazes and I wave at him, as if it's been days since I've seen him.

“Father, good morning.” I raise two fingers to my forehead, dipping them downwards to form the ‘I see you’ sign. He hesitates to return the gesture, sharing confused glances with my mother.

“Uhm, Good morning. Are you feeling alright, bud?”

My mother and him exchange glances, and with a subtle gesture with a nod of her head, he understands she wants him to check on me. He places a hand on my shoulder, crouching down next to me, switching places with my mother per her silent request.

I shake my head, not being able to suppress the laugh that leaves my chest.

“I’m fine. Really, I feel– amazing. Like…really, really good-”

I paused for a moment as my dad pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You don’t have a fever..do you know where we are right now? Could you tell me our exact location?”

“Ma’jake. He is not ill.”

“Baby, I gotta make sure he’s not stroking out-”

“Oh Jake enough. He is fine.”

My mother swats him away as she sits next to me, taking his place. She hands me a few fruits.

“Ma’itan, will you cut these up for me?”

“Of course mother.” I unsheathe my knife to start my task. I feel sleepless nights and dreams of kissing until I can’t breathe come spilling out of me in wavelengths of sunrays and gold-plaited glimpses. A woven thread that tugs on my heart weaves throughout ragged plains of regret, now lost and forgotten to what I feel now.

My father attempts to sneak more nectar, dipping his finger into the bowl just for my mother to spin around to catch him.

“Eywa help me, Jake how many times have i told you to save some for the children?”

“Not my fault this stuff is so sweet, baby, I could drink this stuff.”

My father throws his hands up in a mock surrender, fighting back a smile.

She throws her head back, a groan leaving her.

“You are infuriating. I cannot turn my back for 2 seconds.”

She stands to her feet to wash off her knife, only for my father to sneak up behind her, snaking his hands around her waist.

“Awh, don’t worry honey, It’s not as sweet as you.” He presses kisses to her cheek, tugging at her tail lightly, a soft gasp leaves my mother’s lips followed my soft laughter,

“Jake- stop, you are sticky.”

Since when was watching my mother and father flirt so heartwarming? 

“Gross. I didn’t know we were having PDA for breakfast.”

The familiar grumble causes me to turn to its source. Kiri trudges through the tent flap, her hair messy and her strides slow and exhausted. She rubs her eyes, clutching a waterskin in her other hand. It was a herbal tea that grandmother made for her frequent headaches. She carried it almost everywhere, especially in the morning.

She practically collapses into a cross-crossed position across from me, staring unamused as my parents pull apart from each other, my dad slowly maneuvering my mothers knife out of her grip.

“I’ll go wash this for ya, hon.” He whispers, giving her one last kiss before he slips out behind Kiri and ducks under the divider, letting the curtain fall behind him as you can hear him faintly telling Lo’ak and Tuk to stop wrestling around and get to breakfast.

My mother clears her throat, trying to suppress her own stupid smile now, victim of my father’s charm.

“Kiri, how did you sleep?”

 Kiri yawns, rebraiding one of the braids that fell on the side of her messily layered hair to frame her face.’

“Well, Y/n wasn’t here so there was no one I could rant to at midnight about the hypocrisy in our culture surrounding our misanthropic beliefs as a clan and the refusal to collate and unwillingness to adapt.”

She takes another sipt out of her waterskin, speaking as if she was explaining how to count to 3.

My mother smiles, clearly pretending to understand her.

“So….you slept well?”

Kiri sighs defeatedly, tying off the braid with the small band in her hand.

“Yes mother, I slept like a baby.”

I find myself snickering at the exchange, I look up to see my father return, Tuk and Lo’ak not far behind him. Tuk was doubled over, trying to support a limp-limbed Lo’ak with her smaller body, he’s mimicking my earlier joke with Tuk,

Noises of annoyance and in need of aid leave her as she struggles under Lo’ak’s weight.

“Lo’ak! You’re too heavy! Neteyam is funny when he does it!” She whines, attempting to push him off of her’

Lo’ak clutches his chest, as if he’s having a heart attack. “Oh eywa! I see the light!” He raises both arms up towards the sky, as if some divine presence was going to scoop him up into it’s arms and take him away.

“Take me, great mother!”

Tuk lets out a scream as Lo’ak tumbles atop her.

“That’s enough, you two. Lo’ak, get offa’ your sister.”

My dad tugs on Lo’ak’s tail, and he hisses in pain.

“Ow! Dad-”

“Sit.”

 My dad gives him a final glare and he sighs, cracking his knuckles before taking a seat next to me. Tuk scrambles next to my dad, nuzzling into his side, sticking her tongue out at lo’ak in a victorious manner.

Lo’ak points his two fingers to his own eyes before pointing them back at Tuk, and a clear ‘this isn’t over’ message is received.

Maybe it’s just my weird sense of peace I've felt all morning, but I attempt to park up a conversation with Lo’ak.

“Good morning baby bro.”

I swing my arm around him, ruffling at his braids. He stills his motion of munching into his slice of fruit, glancing up at me with a confused, cautious stare. As if my odd demeanor was an active minefield.

“Uhm. Hi..”

He side-eyed me curiously. Like my happiness was disgustingly contagious. 

His tail thumped against the floor. His eyebrow raised curiously at my stupid smile.

“What’s got you so bright and cheery?”

He glances over at Kiri, hoping for some kind of backup, only to see her silently praying to eywa before eating her food.

“Nothing. I just woke up feeling good.”

I shrug, snatching a slice of fruit from his little leaf he had arranged his stack of food on. The moment my teeth sink in, I'm slapped with the taste of sugared honey mixed with sunshine and sweet nectars. The flavor is resplendent. An unexpected soft groan leaves me as the juices trickle down my lips, I wipe them with my forearm. Why did everything today taste so much sweeter than usual?

Lo’ak stares at me as if he’s abhorred with my behavior.

“Dude..what the hell.”

My ears flick upwards as I turn to face the rest of the family, who’s now looking at me like I’m the epitome of bizarreness.  

My father snickers, helping Tuk peel her small fruit.

“Neteyam, should we give you and your fruit a moment alone.”

Lo’ak shivers, clearly uncomfortable. “Bro. could you not moan into your food in front of my breakfast.”

I shake my head, some of my braids falling over my shoulders. “Sorry, baby brother.” I laugh, but i’m not really sure why. I feel my face flush as i lean back into my spot.

“Dad, I think Neteyam is stroking out.”

Lo’ak snaps his fingers, trying to gather my father’s attention as he points to me.

My father shakes his head. “I already checked. It’s not a stroke.”

Mother hisses at both of them, passing a cut open fruit to Kiri, who as usual seems unbothered with our family’s shenanigans. 

“Both of you, leave him be. He is happy.”

I can always count on mama. 

Lo’ak shoots me a look.

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Why not? We have food, a family, a roof over our heads, we’re safe and happy, a strong clan and a lovely home.”

The woman I would die for no longer hates my guts. Hey, life is pretty good.

My mother smiles at me.

“See? You are not ill. One who takes time to appreciate all the great mother has given us is not sick.”

Lo’ak doesn’t seem convinced. He takes a big bite of his fruit, slowly eyeing me up and down.

My father clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. 

“While I have you kids here, I need you all to try and give y/n a little bit of space today.”

Kiri finally seems to engage in the current conversation now that Y/n is mentioned.

Tuk looks up, as well as my mother, Lo’ak and I.

“Is she okay? Is she sick?”

Tuk pouts, tugging on my fathers arm.

“Does she need anything? Is she hurt?”

It comes out before I can stop myself, trying not to sound too nervous.

Lo’ak groans

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead. That would really suck.”

My dad shakes his head gently reaching for Tuk’s smaller hand.

“No, guys. She’s okay. It’s just that she’s been through a ton these last few days. The poor thing’s burnt out. She needs some rest.”

Silent relief waves over me. I turn to Lo’ak as soon as I hear him speak.

“That doesn’t include me, right?”

He points at himself, a cocky smirk forming on his lips.

My dad glared at him.

“That means especially you. Ever since you could walk I had to pull you away from the poor girl kicking and screaming. And I am NOT about to do it again now that you’re this big. It’s a bad look for me.”

“That just shows we’re not supposed to be away from one another. It’s a sign from eywa. And you know I don’t play with the big lady upstairs.”

Lo’ak presses his lips on two fingers before reaching his hands up as if he’s kissing the sky.

My dad gives him a final warning look before he surrenders.

“Alright, fine. But if you get struck by lightning later it’s not my issue.

I’m gonna go on a walk.”

Lo’ak shoved his food into a small pouch before slinging it over his shoulder.

My mother frowns.

“With half of your breakfast in a pouch? You might as well just finish eating.”

Lo’ak waves her off. “Don’t worry, ma. I got a ton to do today.

I’ll just eat on the go.”

 mother gives him the leave to go, albeit reluctantly.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Y/n’s pov:

You woke up feeling so much better than yesterday. You and Spider haven’t spoken, but you can live with that for right now.

The only person you’ve spoken to since you’ve woken up is Mo’at. She was in nice company. And you certainly didn’t mind conversations with her.

It was a revitalizing contrast from the rush and endless chaos of of the last few days events, when the world didn’t feel to big, the air didn’t feel weighted, it was days like this you treasured.Today your hands weren’t victim to the relentless grip of your bow, your fingers free from the touch of the end of your arrows, your arms no longer aching from holding your shooting stance. No, today was a day you could drown in the acquiescence of having to do absolutely nothing.

Well, except maybe help Mo’at every now and then, but you hardly considered that physically draining.

You sat in her healing hut, grinding up some herbs as you cozied yourself up in the corner. You hummed one of your mother’s songs, the sound of the stone scratching against the bowl providing an odd backbeat.

Mo’at returned from her morning meetings with the clans healers, a long sigh dragged from her lips as she muttered complaints to herself, sitting down slowly.

You loved how she could make you laugh without effort.

“Something wrong?”

She waved off your concern, starting to gather some of the loose bowls strung around and stacking them in her arms.

“You know Menari??” She glances up at you, her tail flicking behind her.

You nod, a smile creeping up your face.

She sighed with irritation.

“Overmixed the herbs I tasked her with preparing because she was making eyes at Kalun.”

Ah yes, clan gossip. Who better to deliver such scandals than Tsahik herself?

You rolled your eyes, giggling at her exaggeration.

“They’re young, and in love. What else can you ask for?”

“I can ask for her to stop looking up at that scrawny man and do her job.”

You cackled, passing her the freshly grinding paste.

‘

“Awh, now that's not kind.”

She scoffed.

“You know what's not kind? I've seen sticks with more build than him and he still flaunts himself like he’s the prettiest peacock.”

You shrugged, moving on to preparing the next bowl

“At least he has confidence?”

Mo’at waves you off again. 

“When I was your age, I was shut away in my family’s tent speaking with the spirit’s, asking them to guide Eytukan to court me.”

“Oh here we go-”

“I prayed every night, child. I performed rituals and burned sacred plants.”

“Ma’tsahik, you’ve told me this story quite a few–”

She raised her hand, signaling for you to be quiet.

“Hush woman, I am not done.”

You sighed, strapping in for more of her spiritual seance stories.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now where was I?”

“Hm…I think you were at the sacred plants.”

A voice that didn’t belong to you or Mo’at spoke, causing you both to pause.

You turned around, spotting Lo’ak standing at the entrance of the tent, a pouch in his hands and a soft smirk on his face.

He strides his way inside without invitation, plopping himself down next to you and sprawling out his legs as he leaned on you.

You groaned, noyt appreciating being used as a seat.

“Lo’ak, what are you doing here?”

He blinked up at you, like him just throwing himself onto you was the most casual thing he could possibly do.

Which, to be fair, he did so often, it probably was by now.

“Did you really think I would leave you here to endure Grandma’s stories alone?? Of course not. So I brought you food,”

He tosses you the pouch.

“And the gift of my presence.”

Mo’at crosses her arms, staring at him with an unamused manner.

“I could have sworn your father informed me this morning to let Y/n rest, and not be dragged into anymore excursions for today.”

Lo’ak shrugged, munching on a fruit from the pouch that he handed you a half of.

“Y/n doesn’t mind me, besides, you know we don’t stay separated for very long.”

It was true. Ever since you were children, you and lo’ak had practically been a package deal.

Sleeping at each other's homes, not wanting to do anything unless you both could do it together, braiding each other's hair, and swapping and sharing bracelets, necklaces, armbands on the daily.

When Lo’ak was a toddler, he’d have a meltdown every time he had to go home after a day of playing with you.

And to be honest? He was right. You didn’t mind Lo’ak hanging with you today.

He wasn’t stressful when he didn’t want to be. You felt like you could talk to him about almost everything, secrets were rare between you and lo’ak, unless you both were keeping them from other people.

If you were the moon, he was the stars. Scattered across the abyss of the night sky, assuring that the darkness wouldn't be drowned in, dwelling with you in the comfort of nocturnal notions while still providing you the subtle comforts of luminescence.

And whether you both liked to admit it or not, you needed each other.

He was there for you when you mourned your mother and father. He was there for you with a blanket and a hug and some stupid joke to calm you when you woke up in the middle of the night hyperventilating. 

And you were there for him.

You were there when he almost died during his first attempt at iknimiya, calling him stiupid and hugging him until you couldn't breathe because a part of you swore you were about to loose your twin flame. 

And he was here now. Well, he was slouched over you with his legs spread and his arms floundered out. But..he was here.

You nudged hi9m to sit up straight, taking the fruit he offered you.

He spoke between mouth-fulls of munches.

“So, what's up with Kalun? I saw him lugging around a big basket of flowers.”

Lo’ak points with his thumb behind him, gesturing to the bustling clan outside going about with their daily tasks behind the closed tent flap.

Mo’at throws her arms up in exaggeration.

“Eywa, why does he insist on distracting that poor girl from her duties!?”

You weren’t a huge romantic, but you did find it sweet how he found time to bring Menari flowers.

“I think it’s sweet.” You hummed, continuing to grind up the herbs in the bowl.

Lo’ak gagged dramatically.

“Gross. I’m never going to mate with anyone.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Uh huh. Sure you’re not.”

He raised a brow, a challenging expression streaked his face.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Mo’at cuts you both off.

“Nothing. Lo’ak you’re going to have children and a mate because I demand great-grandchildren.”

A bust of a laugh leaves you, and you shove Lo’ak, who now stares at Mo’at in disbelief.

“And who are you to demand that i have kids?”

“The tsahik of this clan.”

You smirk triumphantly, smacking the back of Lo’aks head, earning a hiss from him.

“You’re screwed, bro.”

Lo’ak leans back, sighing dramatically.

“It’s so hard being sexy…I guess everyone wants me.”

It was your turn to gag, clutching your hand lightly around your throat to sell the idea.

“Not everyone.”

Mo’at sighs, as if recalling a memory that could only be one of her fondest.

“You know who everyone wanted? Your grandfather, now that’s a story-“

You and Lo’ak both groaned in sync.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

You and Lo’ak had hung out almost all day inside mo’ats tent. And it was probably the most fun you’ve had in a while. 

Conversations with Lo’ak were always interesting to say the least. But if one thing was for sure, it was that there was no one you could possibly think of that you spoke to the way you spoke to Lo’ak. The two of you confided in one another. That meant now that Mo’at had left for the afternoon, there was nothing stopping you both from listening to each other's ramblings.

You told him a few minutes ago about the argument you had with Spider.

He was disappointed, and hated when you both were fighting, but he agreed that you both just needed some space.

So, he did what he did best.

Cher you up.

He was currently retelling a story that took place while you were away on a hunting trip with Neytiri a few weeks back, causing your absence during the event. Lo’ak clears his throat, continuing.

“So anyways, as she’s tying together her next row of knots, I notice that she forgot to do the loopy thing under the second layer of the armband, right?’

Lo’ak explains, making hand motions to try and create some sort of visual of the weaving motion Tuk was practicing.

You nodded, taking a sip of the tea Mo’at had made you, the smooth wood pressed against the inner of your lips for a moment.

“Uh huh.”

“So, I, being the good brother I am, decide stupidly to help the kid out.”

“Right. I mean, who wouldn't?”

“Exactly! So I tell her, ‘Tuk, that row is crooked’, and she has the AUDACITY to respond with ‘crooked like your haircut?’”

Your laughter vibrates down your body, and apparently it’s contagious because Lo’ak can’t help but cackle as well.

“Don’t fucking laugh you asshole. You’re the one who gave me this half shaved side shit, fuck you.”

He manages the last few words through his heavy breaths in between bouts of laughter.

“For the last time!”

You shriek, shoving him playfully.

“You don’t give an 12 year old a knife and expect them to perfectly cut someone’s hair!”

It seems like almost yesterday you and Lo’ak were hiding in a cave you found in the forest, not far from the clearing your clan resided in before high camp came into play.

You remember it perfectly, your mothers sharpest hunting knife she kept in a basket next to the entrance of your family’s marui along with various other weapons your parents kept out of reach from you and spider. He was sat infront of you on his knees, the backs of this thighs touching his shins while you kept yourself elevated behind him to provide you some sort of extra inches of height to better see Lo’aks head, as if that was going to make you know what the hell you were doing.

It didn’t. You remember him telling you to stop hesitating and just do it. He had been asking you for weeks to help him cut his hair since Jake wasn’t aloud to braid much less cut his children’s hair out of lack of confidence, and how Neteyam thought It was an insecurity thing and only responded with “You look great! There’s no need to cut it, baby bro.”

Neytiri didn’t like the idea of her 12 year old son wearing a style most adult warriors garb themselves with,and kiri just laughed when he asked her. 

You were his best option. You remember you and Lo’ak jumping up and down and squealing with excitement at the sight of a few of his braids falling to the ground, forming a circle around the two of you, and how that excitement slowly faded into fear when you both realized those few braids seemed much chunkier than at first glance. You fondly recall running back into the village with a giant leaf over Lo’ak’s head, making a bee-line straight for your family’s tent because going home to tell jake and neytiri was equivalent to walking into a thantors den after rubbing yourself in fragrant spices ready to be cooked and devoured. 

You could never forget your mothers face as she tried to comfort a frantic lo’ak, using her own tools to smoothe down the shaved plain.

To cut a long story short, that’s how Lo’ak got his side shaved. But it appeared Tuk had taken after your habit of never letting him live it down.

You both were out of breath from laughing once you both finished recalling the memory. It’s the terrible experiences that made you two stronger together.

 Lo’ak sighed, leaning back.

“Tuk’s spending too much time with you. You’re a shitty influence.”

You swatted at the back of his head, snickering softly.

A few beats of comfortable silence falls between you both, enjoying  just the feeling of moments like these.

“So, I’m not sure if I told you, but Neteyam was acting weird this morning.”

Your ears flick upwards at the mention of Neteteyam.

You carefully calculate your next words, attempting to make your curiosity seem as causal as a commodity, inconsequential and free of attribution relating to the feelings exchanged the night before. 

“Oh…was he okay?”

Real discreet, Y/n. Nice work.

Lo’ak paused to look up at you, his gaze cynically, clumsily trying to catch your heavily concealed sense of concern

“He was fine…I guess. I still think he was having a stroke.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He wasn’t having a stroke.”

“You weren’t there Y/n. The man acted like he Ingested 80 tons of helium and practically pranced around the marui. He was moaning into his fruit, and sighing every 2 seconds like he was in a dream or something.”

You scrunched up your nose at the visual of anyone being aroused by a fruit. 

“I’m sure he wasn’t ‘moaning’ into his fruit.”

You waved off the idea, Lo’ak scoffed.

“Uh huh. And the smiling-

Holy shit Y/n. This man would. Not. Stop. Smiling. It was insane.”

Come on, was he serious? Neteyam was fine…there’s no way this could be related to your conversation last night..right?

You gasped dramatically, widening your eyes as if you had the most sagacious epiphany, feigning stupidity for sarcasm. 

“Maybe he was..I don’t know..happy? Is that even possible for neteyam?”

Lo’ak was not amused.

“I’m telling you, something’s up with him.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Why would you think that? He’s probably just happy about something personal, maybe he set a goal for himself. Maybe he’s training differently or maybe he finally has that angled dive he’s always wanted to do on his ikran. The move your mom does with her bow? He’s always wanted to do that-“

Lo’ak looks at you like you’ve grown 6 extra tails. Maybe it was because you were rambling about Neteyam too personally. Nah. Maybe you really did grow 6 tails. 

Check just in case.

You cleared your throat, fidgeting with your bracelets. Acting like you weren’t just talking about something  Neteyam told you in private 3 years ago while you too were on a ‘date’ no one knew about. Because you were.

“..or something like that.”

Eywa must have been personally trying to provide you some amorality at that moment when Lo’ak shrugs you off.

“I don’t know. But I feel like if it was really something huge, he would have told his family about it. Right? Like, he doesn’t just keep that stuff from us…”

Point taken.

You placed a hand on his back.

“Look, Lo’ak, I’m sure Neteyam is fine. We all have..weird days, we can’t always be perfect.”

Lo’ak sighed, leaning back, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“You’re right. I mean, at least it’s not about you or some other girl.”

It slowly stings a little bit more each time it plays over and over in your head.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Lo’ak opened one eye.

“What?”

“You said ‘at least it’s not about you’. What does that mean, Lo’ak?”

Lo’ak, (somewhat stupidly, I must admit,) seemed surprised with your offended tone.

“I mean, at least it’s not about you. You know? Like you two aren’t dancing around eachother again.”

“What do you mean, ‘dancing around’ eachother?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Look, you don’t have to get upset-“

“I’ll decide whether or not I’ll get upset when you explain what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak gulped, silently regretting ever opening his mouth.

“You and him are just…weird?-

No, weird is not the right word.”

You agreed, coldly.

“Clearly.”

He groaned.

“Stop putting me in a bad corner here, Y/n, you know what I mean.”

He was right. You didn’t have to be so harsh with him. You knew Lo’ak had a tough time articulating himself. And you getting angry probably wasn’t going to make that any better.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just..you’re so confusing when it comes to what I used to have with your brother.”

You and Lo’ak are both a bit uncomfortable when you say it aloud. It wasn’t very often you confessed to being romantic with Neteyam in the past, even if it was just to yourself. It was hard to face.

“Y/n we don’t have to talk about this, really.”

“No, i think we do.

You don’t like it when Neteyam used to bring me flowers, or take me out to go ride ikrans, or spend time with me, but you were there for me when he started to distance himself from me. All of this shit about ‘oh you can’t court my brother’ but when it finally falls, like any normal person who speaks like that would want it to, all the sudden you’re in the heartbreak hot seat with me. What is going on, Lo?”

Lo’ak was quiet for a Minute. And it’s actually kinda funny how he conducted himself in a similar manner to Jake when things like this happened.

“Because I care.”

“About what!?”

“About you!”

You were quiet for a moment.

“Because I should care when you start to love, or like or feel for someone! Because you’re like a sister to me. Because you’re the one I can come to when I fuck up with my dad or feel like I’m screwing everything up. You’re the one I can come to when the others are giving me a bunch of shit about being Neteyam’s perfect little brother, or whatever.

And yes, it’s so fucking weird to see my brother staring at you like you’re the most important thing on this entire planet. But you know what? It makes you happy. Am I gonna give you and Neteyam shit about it? Of course I am! It’s fucking disgusting. But you know what? It makes you both happy. So I can’t do a damn thing, and I don’t want to.

Am I gonna wanna kick his ass when he screws up? Of course I am. Am I gonna sit next to you and listen to you cry and scream and do all that angry relationship stuff that people do? Abso-fucking-lutely I am.

But you’re both still disgusting and full of love diseases.”

And now it all made sense. Lo’ak was your person. Half your heart in the form of a living soul.

To feel someone in such truth it aches.

And it wasn’t romance. It wasn’t sex or lust. It was a different kind of love.

The kind that meant that you could share a hammock with him and fight every urge not to kick him off when he starts to snore. The kind that meant you were the only one who trusted to braid his hair because neytiri wasn’t gentle enough and Jake was out of the question. The kind that meant that you had his back, and he had yours. 

You were his and he was yours. Sentiments are sensitive and romance is rigged but this went beyond fairytale endings.  Because you knew he would always stand next to you, tangled at the roots. And when the world seemed to be made out of nothing but unkept promises and sterling stained heartbreak, rusting off to a sickly shade of green that once shimmered gold, you found him.

And he was stupid and you loved him and his stupid stupidity that often led him to do stupid things, and of course you would always do them right along with him because he always said he didn’t want to die looking dumber than you. 

And if he asked you to loose your fucking mind with him you’d agree in a heartbeat with an extra pouch of food because he was always hungry. 

You smiled, the intangibility of this beautiful mess of a thing that only you two could create echoed through the air pulsing undercurrent that inhabited the stars that now turned a thousand shades of blue.

“Oh Lo’ak.”

You whispered, the endnotes query themselves upon pity.

“I know you care. But I can protect myself.

I thought that you’d know that better than anyone.”

He nodded, fidgeting with the bracelet that matched you’re own

“You’re right. I know. I’m just not ready to be..I dunno. It’s sounds stupid as shit but, alone?? That’s weird, right?”

“No, of course not. You’re not alone. You’ll always have me. But you don’t have to take every shot for me. That’s a job for my mouth and my fists.”

You smiled, mocking the boxing stance Jake had taught you and punching the air.

Lo’ak looked nauseous. “Y/n. Can we stop talking about your relationships and jobs you do with your hands and your mouth?”

You snickered shoving him.

“You’re so stupid.”

“I get it from you.”

A comfortable silence settled as he leaned his head on you’re shoulder. But there was something drumming at the back of your mind. An unfinished note that would

complete the song.

You sighed.

“Lo’ak, you know how we don’t keep secrets?”

He nodded, not bothering to lift his head.

“Yuh huh.”

“Well..I uh.”

You took a breath, gathering your words and placing them in the right order.

“I talked with Neteyam last night. And I hugged him-

I don’t know why I hugged him. There’s nothing going on but we’re all good now with what happened all those years ago. The past is in the past and I just thought you would know.”

Lo’ak was quiet for a moment.

“Aight.”

‘Aight’? That’s all you get?

“Really? That’s it?”

“Well, it’s disgusting, but as long as you two aren’t canoodling-“

“Trust me. I’m his teacher now. There will be no canoodling. I swear it.”

Lo’ak shrugged, his expression neutral. 

“Then my final verdict is in place. No getting pregnant and nothing below the waist.”

You snorted.

“You’re the boss.”

Another beat of silence settled.

Then, you got an idea.

“You wanna go race ikrans?”

A hint of mischief in your voice, he sighed.

“I’m off flight privileges for 2 more days for that stunt I pulled at the raid.”

You frowned, but it didn’t last long.

“You wanna go on a ride on Kailo? I’ll let you take shotgun.”

“Fuck yeah.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Memes from this chapter

And some Lo’ak and y/n memes bc they’re besties

Authors note:

*in Backstreet Boys voice* ohmahgod we’re back againnn. 

First things first, I owe you all a huge apology. This chapter is way overdue, since I decided to re-write it halfway through like an idiot. But I’m fairly happy with how this turned out, which is rare for me. I’ve been a surf trip for the last few weeks and this summer I’m going on a lot more so that’s been kinda tough to find time to write on a laptop coming home from the beach all sandy and wet. 

But we’re back and the next few chapters will be written in close proximity to this time wise. I’m leaving the country on July 27 so I’m gonna try to get at least one more long chapter out before then. 

This is getting kinda long. But guys I have so much fun writing from Neteyam’s pov. The first time I wrote for neteyam was like 2 chapters ago and I was so so nervous about posting it bc I thought it sounded so cringe but you guys loved it so much, I’ve decided from now on there’s gonna be a neteyam pov in every chapter.

For these of you who know, Lo’ak is my son, my baby, my child, my pride and joy so obviously writing for him is also super fun. 

Okay this is getting so much longer than I planned. But I’ll see you lovelies next time!!

-Solana

Taglist 🪐🌑🪻 

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@OstargirlO

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

@fluorynn

@bakugouswaif

@eljaynosine-triphosphate

(I just realized how long this taglist is getting guys…it’s actually getting me all teary eyed. Tysm for the support!)

[tessadiscordia]

Imagine being trained to hunt and slay monsters. For generations your family has fought on behalf of the Church against the otherworldly forces of darkness, and now you have been selected to pick up the mantle. Your family and the Church make a fierce warrior out of you. You earn the fear and the respect of your kingdom. Now imagine venturing deep into the lair of a great and powerful vampire queen, you feel her all-encompassing presence as you take the first step into the grand hall of her castle. Standing face to face with her, you know that you are way out of your depth. In the blink of an eye she's ensnared you. You can only stand there, trapped in her embrace as she sinks her teeth into your neck, only then able to process what is happening to you as your mind slips into unconsciousness.

When you awake, you find yourself sat in a cushioned chair in front of a mirror. Within the reflection you see yourself dressed in a frilled pink dress with a diamonds adorning your neck, catching the reflection of the candlelight around you. Your hair is done in beautiful braids and decorated with a cute little bow. Your cheeks flush at the sight. You never knew you could look this pretty. You hear the vampire's voice behind you comment how adorable you look right now. You feel her hands gently caress your shoulder, and you are acutely aware of how soft your skin has become. You no longer appear as that imposing warrior you once were, the reflection in front of you is more becoming of a princess. You remain fixated on the mirror image where an invisible hand twirls a strand of your hair between unseen fingers. Your vampire mistress' husky voice fills your mind.

"Look at you... the perfect daughter I've always wanted."

The next few weeks are a blur. You can hardly recall them. She dresses you up in the cutest outfits, always coupled with a white ribbon wrapped neatly around your neck to conceal the marks that have been mysteriously appearing on your neck every night. You find yourself dressed in a flowing black gown sitting in a gorgeous master bedroom, decorated as you would have seen your former place of residence decorated had you been able to... wait, what were you thinking about? You swore you were forgetting something important. Someone important. Far away in a distant land where you belonged. Parents... a family... people to whom you were duty bound. No, that couldn't have been right. Your only family stood right beside you, picking out earrings from your nightstand. The woman who had taken care of you your whole life. You had no recollection of ever leaving her castle, and you couldn't imagine why you would ever want to. She had been so good to you. Spoiled you. Pampered you. Made you pretty like you always wanted to be. You were safer here, and much happier than you had ever been, with your mother.

"Try these on, sweetheart."

She slips the earrings on you and holds out a mirror, allowing you to admire the two spider-shaped pieces of gold adorned with crimson gemstones that now dangle from your ears. Halfway in a daze, you smile and tell her, "I look beautiful, mom."

"I'm glad you feel that way," your mother purrs. "My daughter is the prettiest girl in the world, and she should never forget that."

You exhale softly and lean into her embrace. She hugs you tightly. You find comfort in the feeling of her hot breath on your neck, a sensation you think should be familiar but feels entirely brand new to you. Your unwavering love and trust for her are the only thoughts that occupy your mind.

[bee-ina-boat]

heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

[hellojusthereforabit-blog]

Past Lives Pt. 1.5 - Bucky Barnes.

Ft. Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, and Natasha Romanoff.

"I can't do this, doll, I'm sorry."

"You with me, Y/N?" Sam bended to be eye-level with me.

"What?" I asked, brows furrowing in what I'm sure is a developing wrinkle.

Sam sighed, shaking his head and moving back to the drawing board, where an intricate capture-seize-and-return-to-current-time-line plan was etched.

There's no excuse. I was slipping. I was being unreliable. I could not be trusted with this mission.

"Can I trust you with this mission, Y/N?" Sam's voice was grave, devoid of its usual playful warmth.

No. "Yes." I replied, hoping my face did not betray just how out of my depth I truly was.

What was I thinking agreeing to a mission like this? Maybe Bucky was right. Maybe I did this just to twist the knife. I knew something was truly wrong with me when the idea of Bucky being sick with anxiety over me seemed attractive.

He hurt you, I reminded myself. As if this made it any more justifiable.

"I have the kid." Bucky's booming voice echoed through the compound walls as he approached the conference room.

Speak of the devil.

"Hey!" quipped Peter Parker, alias: Spiderman, from behind Bucky. "You do not have me, Mr. Winter Solider Sir, I came here willingly."

"Pipsqueak" muttered Sam from beside me.

I barely concealed my own laugh in time for Bucky to hit Peter with the infamous "don't call me that." line.

Peter's eyes zeroed in on me and his smile got impossibly wider.

"Y/N!" He seemed to jump in place, "Oh my God! It's so good to see you!"

I welcomed Peter's embrace, relishing in the confusion of the two men behind me.

"Back at you, kiddo."

"You two know each other?" asked Bucky with what seemed to be true disgust.

"Sure we do," I said, patting Peter on the back, "As far as anyone's concerned, this is my avenger-little-brother." I winked at Peter as we pulled away.

Something sobered in the room at the mention of my family. We were all un-kindly reminded of what was at steak here.

"Alright then, Spider," said Sam, back in Captain America mode. "Tell us how it happened."

--

"Reports of more than a dozen killed, and fifty more injured in the area. No group has yet claimed responsibility, but we urge anyone with any knowledge of this to get in contact with the local auth-"

"They weren't all civilians, y'know ." A silky-smooth voice spoke from behind me, interrupting the news anchor.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

Red hair and amused green eyes stared back at me from behind the barrel of my gun.

"Jesus, Nat!" I holstered the gun back to my side. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Why, so you can ignore me again?" she replied knowingly.

Natasha Romanoff, The Black Widow, was raiding my shelves for- whatever it was she was looking for. Having found a half-eaten bucket of ice-cream, she plopped down on my couch and shut the TV off.

"You should really stop watching the news, too depressing." she reasoned, licking the spoon clean off ice-cream.

Resigned to the situation, I dropped to the floor.

The silence in the apartment was short-lived.

I poked Nat's leg and looked up at her.

"I'm sorry about - all the ignoring stuff." It was a lame apology, but Nat deserved one, at least.

She stayed silent, clearly waiting for me to go on.

"It's just-" I started, unable to find the words. She hummed in response.

God, I was so grateful to have a friend like Nat, though you would have never caught me saying that.

I hope she knew.

"Ever since everyone was blipped," I tried again, only half-aware of Nat's leg freezing in place beside me. "I keep seeing them. Him." I breathed out.

"Bucky?" she asked, her demeanor quieter, more real.

I nodded and tried to keep going.

"He never even knew - I never even told him." I shuddered at the thought of what I was about to say next. "He died thinking no one loved him, Nat."

I felt a steady hand grip my shoulder.

"He knew he had a friend in you, Y/N," she said, ever the voice of reason.

But I was beyond reason then, gasping for breath.

"No," my voice cracked. Weak, like the rest of me. "Not like this."

I paused, collected my thoughts.

Out with it.

"Everytime something happens, the first person I want to tell is Bucky. His voicemail is probably barely functional from how many messages I left. But he's gone. They're all gone. I don't see a point in waking up every morning, I don't run, I don't train, I don't eat, Nat-"

I felt a thud beside me on the floor and a pair of strong arms hold me tight. Capable fingers pressed against my back until I was a sobbing mess in the lap of the deadliest assassin in the world.

I only grasped the faintest string of some Russian lullaby through the sounds of my own misery.

--

"Agent!" Sam's commanding voice echoes through the room, ricocheting off the walls and piercing my eardrums. "Copy on the plan or do we need to go through this a third time?" He asks, no mirth in that lovely face of his.

"I copy."

-

Hey guys, I promise the part with 40s Bucky is coming soon. It just feels right to add a little bit of depth to the story. Please let me know your thoughts! Your support from the previous part was incredible. Thank you and see you soon!

[luffyvace]

Kurapika fluffy relationship headcanons :)

i felt like doing some for him so here i am

finding fluffy ones for him isn’t hard but i just wanted to add to the ratio

gn reader! :)

so before i start i want to say that i’m going to do this in a scenario where you met at the boat taking you to dolle harbor

(if you don’t remember it’s the island that leads the entrance exam—aka the island where the old woman asks the main four if you’d rather save your mother or you lover. look it up-)

anyway

you two met on that boat

he looked pretty friendly to you

so you struck a conversation

even if your not the most social- the other guys sure didn’t look friendly

plus you were interested in the book he was reading

which is what you talked about

eventually you got each other’s names and some small introductory facts about each other

so you guys became friends :)

he saw how strong you were during the yellow wolf thing’s test (forgot they name- not gonna look it up)

or if your not strong you were smart enough to figure out that this was a test

or not- again. then maybe he helped you out/protected you

”hey thanks!”

”it’s nothing, just watch your back next time :)”

you travel with kurapika, leorio and gon for some time and get to know the 4 of them decently by the time you make it to the actual exam

fast forward to around the time your getting closer to finishing the exam

leorio has picked up on the fact that kurapika has a crush on you by now

he offers him advice but kurapika decides to do things on his own

fast forward again to after he courts you

(if you want hcs that go more in depth on him crushing or trying to court you just ask)

relationship time!!

i’ll clear this up right here and now-

no he wouldn’t involve you in his spider killing business

ik everyone says that 😭

but it’s true we all just kinda collectively agree he wouldn’t for your safety

especially since your his s/o

now your the closest person he has to family besides friends

and he definitely wouldn’t want to risk that

so no, he wouldn’t involve you the same way he wouldn’t involve killua, gon and leorio

if you get held hostage along with gon and killua he would internally panic

this is kurtapika tho so of course he still stays calm and rational

they’d better not hurt you

but just like gon and killua they left you go :)

he gives you a very very tight hug after that.

he loves reading and would love to bond with you over books if you do too

recommending authors to each other

reading in silence next to each other

sharing your thoughts after finishing the same book

its comforting

kurapika is a pretty good cook

even though he doesn’t do it often he was taught from a young age by his mom

so he’s real good with seasoning

kurapika likes savory foods, a little bit of sweet too

occasionally salty

but he won’t mess with spicer ones

if he does the shopping he won’t come home with spices

you’ll have to buy that

his first instinct wouldn’t be to give massages

but if you ever asked for one he’d realize loves to give and receive them

if your not strong he’d teach you how to defend yourself

probably some basic nen too

he likes cuddles more than he’d like to admit

if you ask he’d blush a little then lay down and wait for you to snuggle up next to him

hes also real good at keep the place clean

he wouldn’t bring up dates since he’s busy a lot but if you suggest one when he has some time he’d be more than happy to go on one with you

he’s a very loyal, honest and communicative lover

on the last one though he’ll shut down and walk away before coming to talk it out later

it kinda sucks but it’s a habit of his so you’ll have to talk to him about it if you want him to put forth effort to stop

he respects and supports most decisions you make as long as they’re safe

he probably told you about his family back when you were friends

like how he did with gon killua and leorio

you can try to comfort him about it but he kinda reacts how he did when he told gon and the others

”only killing all the spiders would be able to put me at ease”

even then as we saw when he heard they “died” he’d still be drowning in a indespicable emptiness 🤓

on a brighter note

if you compliment him his reaction is kinda cute

”oh..! thanks y/n :)”

continue to do it frequently and he’ll do it back to you

it becomes you guys’ thing.

his love languages are quality time (as much as he can) and acts of service

overall he’s a 9/10 lover <3

[cyren-myadd]

Avatar official account posted their screenplay of the Sullys arrived at the Metkayina clan on their TikTok. This part here caught my eye. Neytiri has a secret shame that her kids are half half-human.

What's your thoughts?

oh man, I have some really mixed feelings about this ngl...

First thing I want to say before I get into my rant is remember that not everything in the old script is canon, so Neytiri feeling ashamed of her children isn't canon as of right now, but there's a possibility this will be confirmed in a later movie.

A little self-disclosure, I'm engaged to a guy who is from a different race and culture than me, and I'd like to have a kid with him at some point. My partner and I have discussed the fact that our kids would be mixed, and we've already made plans to teach them both of our native languages and make sure they're exposed to both of our cultures. Even though my kids will be different from me in some ways, I don't care, I'll still love them no matter what and I can't imagine ever being ashamed of their differences-- especially since I was the one who chose to have children with a man who was a different race/culture.

While Avatar is completely fictional, the romance between Jake and Neytiri is a clear allegory for a real-life mixed-race couple, with their children's "hybrid" traits being an allegory for real-life mixed-race children feeling insecure about their features. Obviously, not everything is a one-to-one allegory, since Neytiri has been directly and violently victimized by Jake's people and most modern mixed-race couples in my country deal with more systemic forms of oppression instead, but the allegory is still there.

To be completely honest, if the writers actually follow through with this line from the script and show Neytiri being ashamed of her children on-screen, I might actually start to hate Neytiri. Her other character flaws, like her chauvinism, her resistance to change, and her hypocrisy about Jake vs Spider, are completely understandable, especially since she's been through unbelievable amounts of trauma because of humans. I still like Neytiri a lot even with her flaws. But being ashamed her own kids? The kids she chose to birth/adopt, knowing they were hybrids? These two babies right here?

I am really, really trying to be understanding here, 'cause Neytiri's been through trauma that I could never imagine, but still... ma'am those are YOUR babies. I don't think any kind of trauma justifies being ashamed of your children for something they have no control over.

Whenever I see that screenshot, all I can imagine is Kiri or Lo'ak finding out their mom feels ashamed of them. Could you imagine? They would be absolutely crushed. I think Lo'ak especially would have some kind of a crisis over it, since he's already so insecure about being a hybrid. Even Miles freaking Quaritch, the vengeful colonizing monster, isn't ashamed of his son being so different from him.

For the record, I know the only reason I feel so strongly about this is because I'm projecting my own feelings about being in a mixed-race relationship and planning to have mixed-race kids onto Neytiri. But I feel the way I feel, and if this ever becomes canon I would never be able to look at her the same way, so I'm hoping this idea stays in the old script and never sees the light of day again.

No matter what happens, this is James Cameron's story, and I trust him to deliver a fantastic movie even if I don't like everything about it. Besides, this is only one line. It doesn't go in-depth into the nuances of Neytiri's feelings. Maybe if they choose to go with this concept and flesh it out better, I'll change my mind about it, who knows.

I'm also gonna add this here, cause I know how tumblr is: these are just my personal feelings on the topic-- my personal feelings that are completely subjective and are greatly effected by my own life experiences. I know some people like this idea and think it would be a great thing to explore for Neytiri's character, and if you think that, then great, good for you, no hate to anyone with a different opinion.

[the-monkey-ruler]

According to your opinion, what do you think would be SWK's best written romance or what would they be as for the adaptations? You know, not only does the romance appear and that's it, but does it develop or at least seem good to you?

Not to say there are bad romances, but I just wanted to ask.

Honestly, it depends on what you think is romantic.

There is a reason that the Chinese Odyssey is such a cult classic and it's not because they get together at the end, but rather because it explores the idea of self-expression and restricted freedom in the view of romance. Sun Wukong cannot exist unless Joker becomes him, and Joker cannot become Sun Wukong if he falls in love. He had the chance to love and he lost it, being forced to change who he is, knowing what he could have had. Chinese Odyssey became so popular because it explores what it means to sacrifice your own individuality and conform to societal expectations while still having slapstick humor.

And I won't lie and say that has also changed my view of romance with Wukong in that I do not think there can be a Retelling of Wukong where he gets with an SO. There can be great Reimangings or Alternative Universes (and there are) but if someone wants a faithful adaption of the story there can be additions such as adding a romantic subplot but in no circumstances can they end up together. And that could still be a good romantic story.

The quality of romance does not have to depend on a happy ending but one that relates to people and touches their hearts. I think the key to any romance is that connection to the audience, showing a level of genuine yearning and the struggle with that yearning that anyone can relate to when it comes to connecting to another person, romance or not.

Personally, I haven't seen a romance story done it better showing that desire for connection like Chinese Odessey since...

But I would say a close runner-up is the 1996 Journey to the West subplot within the show. As I think as far as relating to a character this is one that I found personally touched by.

In the 1996 Journey to the West is also not a one-to-one with the book as it follows more like a drama than an adventure story with deep character elements but still a wonderful adventure. This probably has the best tv live-action versions of the characters with just how in-depth they go with each character and we actively see them have their individual character arcs as they go from quarreling journeymates to a close-knit found family.

On one of these adventures they meet the Spider Sisters, but not all evil as one of the Sisters, Shishi, is trying to find her lost love from her past life. The gang helps her and Wukong RELUCTANTLY helps as well though he is distrustful of demons and sees no point in trying to find lost love. Shishi's sister, Enen, tags along as well and defends her sister's desire to find her lost love when to her, love is the most important thing in the world. But to Wukong he believes that learning Buddhism and teaching is what is most important. The more Enen and Wukong work together the more Enen falls in love with Wukong's compassion, heroism, and diligence, seeing him as someone to be admired and someone she wishes to impress as well.

The reason I adore this love story is that it is one-sided completely and I think that the narration does such a fantastic job of showing how much Wukong loves Enen has a friend and someone he cares about deeply but he just doesn't have romantic feelings for. I thought that the build-up of their relationship was fascinating in that Wukong comes to terms with seeing Enen as a good friend and someone who has changed his worldview that not all demons are after power, some are just living their lives, and just that knowing her platonically has made him a more compassionate person. But that is the issue in that Wukong's love for Enen is purely platonic and how he even refuses to compromise on his morals and lie to her that he feels the same when he loves her only as a friend.

Enen falls for Wukong because he is her friend and someone that she admires as well. She tries to become more like him by giving up meat and eating fruit and even trying to study Buddhism with him. She didn't do these acts because SHE wanted to, but rather so she could be closer to Wukong. But in the end (Enen loses her cultivation from a demon and asks Wukong to at least say 'I love you' before she turns back into her original form) she isn't able to make Wukong feel the same THOUGH NO FAULT OF HER OWN.

In my personal experience, I have felt this many times, when friends try to admit their feelings, and that soul-crushing burden of having to let them down gently. When you care about someone and are willing to support them or fight for them but the one thing you can't do is reciprocate their feelings. Wukong in this series is being hounded by both Bajie and Wujing to at least pretend for Enen's sake (she does uncultivated and returns to spider form but isn't dead) and when Wukong tells her that he does care for her but not in that way he is seen as the bad guy.

Enen did nothing wrong in falling for Wukong, but she wasn't able to accept that he just couldn't feel the same. And Wukong did nothing wrong in not feeling the same as he cares for his friend greatly but he cannot lie to himself or her how he feels because he respects her too much to lie. Bajie and Wujing both call him heartless but moreso that they feel so bad for Enen but Wukong is the one that has to carry the burden of her feelings for the rest of his life.

Some people might not see this as a love story at all but I think this is a type of love story that is very common and that people on both the receiving and the giving end can relate to. That dejection from rejection and opening your heart and thinking maybe if you change, or something is wrong with you, or that you are not good enough. That horrible feeling of guilt for things out of your control and not being able to give someone you deeply care about what they want and then feeling more guilt that there is something wrong with you for not feeling the same. I thought that the show has an advantage over movies as it gives the characters time and room to grow and change around each other. Wukong becomes more sympathetic to demons and even has a deeper understanding of the importance of love just by knowing Enen before she "died" and rather because she lived (and still lives) he still cares about her and wants her to live the best life she can.

Even in her spider form, even when she wouldn't be able to understand him, Wukong refuses to lie to her about his feelings but expresses that he wants her to live a good life, one that leads her to enlightenment and back to her human form. He cares so much about her but just not in the way that she wants. I think there is something very well done in how the show shows that it wasn't either of their faults and that while they can love one another you can't change people. People can only change if they want to change, and you can't force people to feel the same. There are different forms of love and each is important, and just because someone feels a different kind of love doesn't make it any less real.

To me, a love story is about connection and how the audience can feel themselves in the characters. Love can be scary and you're more often going to face rejection than anything but that doesn't mean it is anyone's fault. Sometimes people just don't feel the same, as much as they do care about you, and learning to accept that and let go is a part of growing up. As such I think that my favorite would be the 1996 subplot as I feel that is it both emotional and that it also still follows the Xiyouji format. Especially love Wukong going to the Red String of Fate guy (Yue Lao) and rewriting people's tragic love stories so they can live happily ever after!

I think that maybe I enjoyed this the most as I feel like it still captured Wukong's character wonderfully as someone who might not feel romantic feelings (following the book) but also someone who learns compassion and what it means to love another person. He knew what it was like for someone to love him and that is not something to be taken lightly. People being vulnerable and expressing their desire can be scary and something to be even admired but can still unavoidable cause pain. It wasn't his fault that he didn't like Enen back but he wanted her and even others to find that kind of love. He wants people to feel free to find comfort in connecting with another person even if it isn't himself.

That is to say, there aren't other romances that I did enjoy that are reciprocated love as well! Funny enough the ones that I really enjoy are all Japanese or based on the Saiyuki series.

Alakazam the Great (1960) 西遊記

Monkey Magic (1998) モンキーマジック

The New Legends of Monkey (2018) 新猴王传奇

I think the common factor of these is that Wukong in all these forms becomes a better person just by knowing their SO and take it upon themselves to become a better person, rather than the SO taking it upon themselves trying to 'fix' Wukong, I feel like that is an issue with a lot more modern romances of Wukong in that they are far too rushed, if Wukong does start off as a jerk then there is no real reason the SO should fall for him, and then Wukong doesn't stop being a jerk until the end when there is no proper resolution. It feels all very rushed and very forced.

I think that I enjoyed these versions mostly because they had the advantage of keeping the SO alive and they play on the trope of "changing for your loved ones" rather than "getting character development because of SO's death." We see Wukong in 1960 slowly relearn what it means to be humble and grateful to his SO Rinrin with her undying (literally) devotion and how this dedication leads to him wanting to be a better person deserving to be by her side. Monkey Magic 1998 is a surprising one but one that I found charming nonetheless as Goku is a hotheaded and impulsive person but everything he does is for his friends one being Fenya. They never confirmed their relationship but she is the only one who never treats Goku differently after he becomes the king and even when he demands her to call him as such she never lets him forget his humble roots which by the end he learns to return to. The last New Legends 2018 is also surprising as I really didn't enjoy the plot of this show and found the pacing painful, but that Monkey and Tripitaka's relationship was something that had a lot of potential. From Monkey's arrogant attitude and Tripitaka's deception of her true identity, I thought that the show handled them slowly but surely coming to trust and rely on each other. I feel like the show could do a lot more with their character development but I doubt we are getting a third season.

I will say a guilty pleasure of mine is Monkey King 2014 just cause it is more of an innocent childhood crush kind of feeling than anything else. I'm sad that she still dies but I feel like out of the Wukong romances I have seen (please note I haven't seen them all) I can see why the SO would fall for Wukong as he was nothing but sweet and kind to her and that I was sad to see her go.

[anxiousdreamcore]

I saw that recent post you made writing out how you view all the Avatar characters, and in it, you mentioned that your opinion of the characters has changed a lot in the past year and a half (I can't believe it's been that long since ATWOW!)

So how did your opinion of the characters change and why? Who changed the most radically? I'd love to hear your thought process!

Warning: yapping ahead

My opinion changed as I began consuming content from different people in the fanbase, as I sadly started out my journey relegated to mostly the recom side of the fandom.

A very specific vision I’ve formed was one of him and Neytiri. Her and Spider are two individuals forced to be close by circumstance, and not necessarily liking each other but they’re known each other for so long that they know each other, you know? The way I see it, they can’t pretend to be strangers, and their argument in the high ground comics, which is the only time any of the children oppose Neytiri makes me think that this is the dynamic going on between them.

Being a Spider fan outside of the recom space was a horrible experience for many of my mutuals, and I heard from more than one person that just liking the character earned them death threats, so I kept to the only space where he was actually liked, which uh…may or may not have been a bit of an echo chamber.

First months after ATWOW came out the opinions were extremely polarising and there was little depth to go around. I realised later on though, I didn’t have to pick a side and didn’t have to force myself to forgive Quaritch, because I never wanted to. I didn’t have to see him as either a 🥺baby gworl🥺 or an emotionless monstrosity.

As I said before, the essays made by Quaritch fans sold me at first. They seemed to provide a lot of proof and I was on board with the identity crisis theory, but as time went on I believed it less and less. Looking at the movie with fresh eyes months later, I formed and opinion of my own and that is — That recom Quaritch is an amalgamation of his past self and the Na’vi instincts/perspective of his new body. He’s a fucked up soup that is, in a way, different than his human predecessor but not different enough to be considered a wholly separate creature. If human Quaritch was a dying garden then recom Quaritch is that same garden decayed to the core, with one single flower emerging amongst the rot, not yet consumed by it. (That flower being his fatherhood obv)

I went from seeing him as a man perhaps capable of redemption and seeing value in Pandora, to a man who, while not enjoying violence per ce, obviously doesn’t give much of a damn about the moon or its habitat or its many cultures. All that matters to Quaritch is that these things matter to his son, so he’ll entertain them and go easy on the destruction, just for him. He doesn’t yet accept Pandora, not fully, but he accepts that Spider does so. That is about his only good quality.

The way I began to see it, Socorro is somewhat his only functioning organ. A breathing lung in an otherwise dead body. Miles hasn’t felt anything but manic happiness and rage for as long as we knew him on screen, and that only changed when he stood in the boy’s presence, constantly challenged by him, and brought out of his comfort zone over and over again. He needs him to be remotely alive and likeable to the audience. He needs him to be something more than a chained army dog.

That brings me to my next point; my other big change in perspective was one of his dynamic with Spider. The more I analysed the franchise the more I came to conclusion that Miles is just an unbearable softie for him, and it was really the deleted scenes and the fact that Spider has a new bow in the ikran taming scene that sold me. He not just likes Spider, he loves him, to death. His sacrifices might not seem sufficient, but for his character, they‘re very much drastic, as Miles is traditionally not a loving person.

Quaritch is canonically a traitor to the RDA because he jeopardised his mission three times in a row, all for a single child. His inner father and colonel are constantly fighting each other, as he knows what he should be focusing on, but can’t resist being a father; having priorities of his own. He was an old fool who thought he could have his cake and eat it too; make Spider safe and happy and be a colonel at the same time, but in the end he made up his mind on what matters more, and it’s Spider. The way I see it now is; Quaritch is only truly loyal to Spider. He can hate it, but he can’t run from it.

[paperbackribs]

Witch Steve

(working title)

next: Chapter 2: The Aftermath

So 👉👈 You were all so encouraging that I was inspired to write 14 chapters of Witch Steve. This will eventually be going up on Ao3, but while I'm finishing it up and re-editing I'll post the start of it all on Tumblr. Chapter content: steddie to come, platonic stobin, ~2K words.

Edit/Update: This is a 15 chapter fic. Ao3 here.

Chapter 1 The Sacrifice

Robin fiddles with the vodka bottle full of gasoline in her hands, “…in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

She sighs, stuffing one of their rags into the mouth of the clear glass and completing their next Molotov cocktail. Steve watches the resignation on her face and thinks that if anyone deserves to have a moment of love and joy in the face of the world ending, it’s Robin.

It’s all of them, he reflects, looking out onto the grassy clearing.

The forest of trees behind Lucas and Erica reminds him of where they will be taking their battle to shortly. Vecna waiting in the Upside Down like a venomous spider in his web. Manipulating the troubled emotions and frightening visions of his victims, ready to break them in more than one way for his selfish desires.

Exuberant laughter draws his eyes over Nancy tailoring her weapon to Dustin as he dodges Eddie’s outstretched hands. Fondness rises within Steve like the warmth of rising bread. The fading sun frames the two boys as Eddie speaks earnestly into Dustin’s grinning face, the bond between them obvious even from here.

“Maybe it’s not the time for romance,” he admits, pensive as he watches Eddie tackle Dustin to the ground with a cackle. “But isn't love the most important thing when it is the end of the world.”

Robin knocks her knees amicably against his and he knows that this is her way of saying she loves him. He smiles back at her; he loves her too. He says it silently because he does, more than he can say at this moment. The words heavy and stuck at the back of his throat.

He wishes she could have had her moment with Vickie before they face the coming danger. The fragility of their situation leaves him with a disturbing feeling of unease churning in his gut.

It’s the fear of losing Robin that further feeds into Steve’s increasing sense of foreboding, making his teeth clench and nails dig into his palms. He has to Know, Steve decides; he needs to make sure there is hope for a later where love and romance can be indulged.

In the heart of the quiet afternoon, Steve allows the sounds of the boys roughhousing and Erica’s sharp, but not unkind, words to become muffled. While he relaxes his fists and Robin fades from his sight, Steve unfurls his uncanny gift to see into the murky depths of their futures. He hears a soft, haunting melody reaching out to him through the ethereal and a glimmering sheen covers his vision.

Like a weaver of fate, he gently unravels the white threads of destiny that intertwine around the lives of those he cherishes. Even Eddie, new to the party but just as entrenched in their fight, running scared; yet Steve thinks, just as courageously meeting the more experienced members toe to toe.

And it is only Eddie’s fate that gleams a terrible ox-blood red, a twisted tapestry of the future revealing a grim reality. Steve’s unease deepens as he Sees two roads diverging before Eddie, each leading to vastly different destinies.

One road, he is unsurprised to find, is golden bright and brilliant, full of joy, love, and friendship. This Eddie would be the guiding light for those he loves and who will love him just as fiercely as he holds them to his heart.

Steve swallows over the hard knot in his throat at the thought of all the beauty that is stolen if Eddie loses that path: because the other is shrouded in a terrible darkness.

If Eddie chooses this road, a jagged tear will be torn through the tapestry of too many lives. An unravelling thread that leads to the frayed fabric of its survivors in a way that Steve thinks the self-deprecating Eddie would never suspect.

Aside from family, only one other person knows Steve’s truth. Keeps his secret close to her breast, alongside twin confessions on a bathroom floor. Robin haltingly refusing Steve’s advances to favour Tammy Thompson and Steve blurting out that he comes from a long line of Witches. Taught at his nana’s knee and made to understand that this is something just as private to him as Robin understands her sexuality to be to her.

He watches Dustin’s wide smile, still innocent amongst a grim collection of dark moments, and Knows that this will be a turning point for his young friend. One in which Dustin lives a life spirited and mirthful or another irrecoverable scarred and linked to a critical event of grief and regret. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine and he decides he can’t stand idly by, watching as Eddie teeters on the precipice of these two divergent paths.

Drawing from long lessons of heritage and the power he and his kind hold, Steve decides on a potent action that will allow him to weave a new pattern.

---

Scarlet lightning roars in the darkness behind Eddie and Dustin as the boys wait for Steve, Robin and Nancy to depart and attack Vecna. The trailer behind the boys is tightly wrapped in the sinister vines of the Upside Down and the smell of sulphur rains down with the grey ash that coats the world in a bitter blanket. Steve watches the ghostly flakes drift onto the cloud of Eddie’s bound-back hair, and he knows that this is the moment that he readied for.

Steve reaches out to Eddie with his uncanny gift — a glass sphere, like a marble, is cradled innocently at the centre of his hand. It is as big as an apricot pit and strangely swirls with warm browns and flecks of gold, like the gentle play of sunlight flickering through to a forest floor. Steve holds his open palm out to Eddie, his hazel eyes filled with a heartfelt entreaty.

"Eddie," he asks softly, "take the marble and swallow it. Please, trust me."

Even in the short time that Steve has known Eddie, he gets that the other guy isn’t known for his impulse control. Despite this, he’s still somewhat surprised when Eddie, with no hesitation, takes the marble and swallows it down. Doe-eyed pools of warm brown look up at him through dark bangs.

“I do,” Eddie shrugs with a mysterious smile.

“What was that” Dustin shrieks, the faux military tags he had insisted on wearing jingling in agitation.

Robin stays silent behind him; Steve knows she’s holding her questions for later, having cottoned onto that he was up to something mystical when he’d hidden in the RV for a while. Only clasping his arm briefly in support when he had walked past, sweating and still pale.

Nancy though is just as surprised as Dustin and looks on at them suspiciously.

Eddie knocks an arm lightly into Dustin’s side, “I don’t know, but it tastes like hot chocolate. Warm,” he chuckles softly, “even comforting.” He turns questioning eyes back to Steve, “but, yeah, what was that?”

Steve feels how tight his smile is. “A little insurance.”

He talks to both of them, trying to instil them to obey by the force of his words alone. Knows that Dustin can be a stubborn little shit. “Just… if this goes south, I mean, at all. You abort.” But his focus turns, inevitably, to Eddie. “Don’t be a hero, man. Okay?”

A flash of emotion crosses Eddie’s face too quickly for Steve to understand before he slings an arm around Dustin’s skinny shoulders. “Of course, look at us. We are not heroes.” Under his hoodie and headband, Dustin grimaces in agreement.

The deep feeling of foreboding in his gut is untouched by their reassurance, but Steve doesn’t bother to unravel his Sight again. He’s done what he can and now he follows the girls to battle Vecna and maybe free them all from this nightmare once and for damn good.

As they travel through the dark forest, neither girl notices the small glowing pulse that Steve presses to each of them. The marks fade softly before the other can notice it. Transported by a light brush over Nancy’s tight shoulders and a firm squeeze of Robin’s sweaty hand in his.

The attack against Vecna is fierce but the three of them have never struck more certain or true. Steve with his axe, Robin and her cocktails, and Nancy with the shorn-off shotgun. Their attacks land every time and between their physical assault and Max’s diversion, something must go right because the world shudders once, then twice, but stays steady before Vecna screams harshly and his pale, grotesque body falls broken to floor. His web of terror finally shattered.

The rest of the decrepit house, vines and all, quickly catch from the blazing gasoline and the three stumble after each other, racing to the still-rancid outdoor air. But it’s air free of Vecna and that makes it all the sweeter.

With a whoop, Robin jumps into Steve’s waiting arms and breathlessly he swings her in joy. Resting his forehead on hers, he knows she can see every nuance of his relief, sensing him finally releasing the suffocating fear of the Upside Down. “This is it, Robin. I can feel it.” Steve exclaims.

Robin’s blue eyes, which sometimes can be so cynical for a person this young, gleam in belief. Belief in Steve and that he can See the truth of it all. She wraps her hands around his shoulders and is shaking in a combination of comfort and ebbing adrenalin. “Thank god,” she breathes.

“Let’s hope so,” Nancy interrupts. But she’s looking on at them with a small smile.

Steve knows it will take a long time for her to believe that it is true. And she doesn’t have the benefit of Steve’s Knowing as they do. But she’ll get there, he thinks. Much like it will take them all time to heal, they will. And the kids will bounce back, he thinks with faith. They’ve been made to be too resilient for children their age but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless.

It’s at the thought of Dustin that Steve remembers Eddie and those two paths he had seen; he urges the girls on, back to the uncanny version of the trailer park. Impatience sparking through to his fingertips.

They’ve not quite reached it yet when Steve hears the haunting cries of anguish that echo through the empty forest and roads of the Upside Down.

Dustin is hunched over the still-warm but devastatingly motionless body of his beloved Dungeon Master and friend. Bright red blood spills everywhere, coating Dustin's hands and across his face where he has smeared a hand over his cheeks. Eyes filled with tears and pain, Dustin looks up at Steve and cries out that the older boy had tried to save him.

“He said he didn’t run, Steve. But he did. He did. He ran to the demo-bats and they— they—"

Dustin starts hiccupping between tears and short, frantic breaths. He grabs at Eddie’s camouflage jacket, shaking the body as if it will jolt the older boy awake.

“Eddie!” Dustin cries. His voice, often bigger and louder than his short body would seem, breaks through the empty quiet of the Upside Down. No more swarming bats or jagged bolts of red lightning to distract from the palpable sense of grief saturating into their tired bodies. The only cruel answer is the flakes of ash gathering over Eddie’s unresponsive body like this terrible world is already trying to bury him away.

Steve’s heart is breaking, he feels the crack of it cleanly through his chest and in the thickening at the back of his throat and burning behind his eyes. But he is not powerless; this is exactly what he prepared for.

With a firm, yet gentle hand, Steve unlocks Dustin’s stiff fingers and shifts him into Nancy’s waiting embrace. She tries to turn him in her arms, but Dustin refuses to look away.

Nancy must think that Steve is going to quietly close the lids over Eddie’s blank eyes, which should be bright and expressive; eyes that were full of mischief just hours ago. Or that Steve will try to pick up the body and take it back with them, impossible as it seems in the moment, to think of carrying a heavy and limp weight vertically and against gravity where climbing through the Upside Down gates, with only their own bodies to support them, had been hard enough.

He’s not going to do any of those things, Steve thinks fiercely. He won’t need to.

With an unwavering determination, Steve drops to his knees and pushes his left hand down, through and deep into the realm of the mystical, until he finds an answering beat, a corresponding warmth. He pulls, straining with every ounce of physical and spiritual strength he possesses. A pearlescent light suddenly pushes out from Steve's link to Eddie, it pours unendingly into the dark landscape before pulsing sharply. The ethereal cuts precisely through the unclean atmosphere before rapidly shrinking back into the connection between the two boys.

Steve's own spirit is being drained, a live wire shooting up his arm and threading through every vein of his body in a white, blinding heat. But Steve knows that it is in this critical moment where he could lose his own body and soul, where the world hangs in the balance between life and death, that something miraculous can happen.

And it does.

Eddie draws a shuddering breath and his eyelids flutter open. His chest starts to rise even as his gaze looks unsteadily out into the living world once more.

“Steve?” he whispers hoarsely.

“I’ve got you, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, checking that the wounds are healing under the slick blood. His left arm is numb, but he uses the shaking right to examine Eddie’s torso where jagged gashes are rapidly closing over.

“It’s all right, we’ll get you help, you’re gonna be okay."

“No, Steve, your eyes…” Eddie lifts a shaking finger to touch Steve’s face, leaving a red fingerprint behind to mark Steve with the very essence of his mortal life.

Steve knows what he must see since this has worked. Because reality is not the same as when Eddie had closed his eyes for seemingly the last time. As Eddie returned from the brink of death, Steve now sees the world through one rich hazel eye, while the other will remain forever white and sightless, an eerie testament to the price paid to mend the shattered threads of destiny.

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