#always aphids

[cultivating-wildflowers]

I have a rosebush in my garden that came eith the house, and during the first three springs and summers I lived here it never bloomed. Like Valancy Stirling’s rosebush, it shows plenty of growth, good strong green branches, but not a single bud. The last two years I cut it down almost to the dirt because all it did was get in the way.

This year it has buds.

[waterghostype]

i will only break your pretty things, i will only wring you dry of everything

[garblegarden]

i made a friend the other day it was a little baby assassin bug

[mios-axe]

[tortoisesshells]

31. flowers ; for liz and vicki

“Souvenir de la Malmaison,” said Mrs. Stoddard, handing Vicki some heavy, pale roses – the leaves waxy, petals like tissue-paper in an expensive holiday parcel – the kind Vicki remembered watching being handed into waiting cars on 5th Avenue, while she had huddled further into her third-hand coat. Her employer looking at the bush critically, alive to every possible spot or fault, continued: “They’re lovely, of course, but they’ve never done well here, in the cold and damp – Daniel Collins brought them here from France for his grand-daughter, and she brought them into the greenhouses, where they have been ever since.” “They are very beautiful, Mrs. Stoddard,” Vicki said, holding the flowers gingerly, wary of the thorns. “Yes, beautiful,” she echoed unhappily, cutting a spotted leaf off quickly, and discarding it, “It has been the work of generations, keeping them alive.”

send me a number and two (or more) characters, and get a five sentence drabble!

[0scill4te]

think i potentially ate a bug(s) but oh well

[yakii-m0chi]

Natlan Boys as Fathers

i thought this would be a super cute idea to write !! ever since ororon showed up in the questline and how wholesome his character is, i wanted to write something w/ him and kinich!!

pairings: kinich x reader | ororon x reader (gender neutral)

🦎 Kinich

you were out with him while he was completing a commission.

bby wanted to take you with him bc you wanted to see the saurians and he knew how much you liked it when he swung around with you in his arms

eventually he came across the commission site, and the mother that he was supposed to capture had already passed on

obv he was disappointed since he wouldn't get commission money, but you were sad about something else.

KINICH!

what is it?

IT WAS A BABY SAURIAN :(((

more specifically, it was the baby of the mother who was already dead

devastated was an understatement to how you felt

the baby saurian seemed to cling to you for dear life, seemingly bawling in your grasp

...

look at them! the thing is practically glued onto Y/N for dear life! it's already imprinted on them!

kinich ignored ajaw and looked at you and the saurian, his usual blank expression showing hints of fondness.

he was completely fine with taking care of a saurian, but it wasn't going to be easy.

and he also didn't really want to end up taking care of it for you since he already had a lot going on in his life

you're going to ask me if we can keep it, aren't you?

mhm! look at it, kinich! isn't it cute?

hahaha! of course Y/N would be attached to some lowly crea-

kinich put ajaw into timeout.

ofc he'd let you keep the baby saurian since he saw how happy you looked with it

and he also couldn't resist your pleading gaze

love, you do know how much work taking care of a saurian is, right? you need to feed it, train it, make sure it has a place to sleep, and nurture it.

i know! i'll do all of it!

kinich knew you didn't know until reality settled in, but you'd do anything to keep it.

oh well, at least this was a good practice run when it came to parenting

kinich is such a great saurian dad

everyone knows this already, but he's a super caring guy underneath that blank face

even though he did find himself taking care of the little bby, he still enjoyed how much the saurian seemed to blend into both of your lives

ajaw would sometimes plot with the bby saurian about how to take kinich's body, but it was always met with one of you interrupting his bad influence

(if your bby is a yumkasaur) kinich would teach bby how to swing around and frequently takes it on commissions. he'd probably have your bby blast enemies with flamegranates from a tree since he doesn't want your bby to get hurt

(if your bby is a koholasaur) he'd regularly run cool baths for it to swim around in whenever he didn't have time to take it to the hot springs or rivers. led to a lot of father-baby bathtimes that r so wholesome!

(if your bby is a tepetlisaur) kinich would bring your bby to kachina to go digging together for cool gemstones. one day, kinich had come to pick up your bby since you were busy with your work and saw your bby with kachina splashing around in a whole wheelbarrow of gemstones.

🌱Ororon

oh my BABYYY

MY SWEET PRECIOUS BABY BOY

he loves his aphids, as everyone knows

one day, you end up bonding with a particular aphid that he looks after

he noticed it while he was out growing vegetables and doing maintenance on them

you were playing around with one of the aphids, who seemed to enjoy your head rubs and affection

honey? what are you doing?

oh, just playing around. this lil guy seems to like me a lot.

he couldn't help but huff from amusement, seeing the endearing sight of you playing around

i never thought i'd see the day when an aphid enjoyed someone's affection like that. it's almost acting like a dog.

really? the way he's acting, i thought this was completely normal...

not quite. i tend to give them space so i won't scare them off or defer them. but... it looks like he's fond of you.

ororon was so fascinated

and the funny part is, that aphid kept coming around to your shared home every single day

it was as if you two made a small companion friend, but it wormed its way into your hearts and somehow became like your son

ororon found himself preparing servings of food for the small aphid who dined with you all for every single meal. the little guy even threw fits when food was late

sometimes, the aphid would cuddle with you while you napped. ororon had plenty of photos on his kamera of it, and those are some of his favorite

you two even celebrated major holidays with your aphid, and the aphid went everywhere with you two

merry christmas, my love

merry christmas, ororon. and merry christmas, little one.

*holds out some berries*

oh! that's where they went! you stole them for a gift? for me?

*flies up and down*

he's becoming sentient, darling

so it seems...

to the night kingdom, to the colosseum, to the groceries, around natlan - everywhere

ororon managed to purchase some silk flowers to make fabric for the bby :(

when citali came by, she was so confused lol

lady was like "wtf is a bug doing at the dining table? and why is it eating off of its own plate???"

she was very concerned but then saw how tame it was and didn't feel the need to shoo it off

ororon is a great dad :( bby gives your aphid so much love and care

he's so wholesome too! sometimes when your aphid flies off, he gets a little concerned and worried since he knows how much you love him (and ngl, the aphid grew on him)

protect both of them at all costs

[celestial-games]

MILKWEED BUG STARTER PACK

In the game there is always a chance to run into any bug at any time (within reason) but another thing you can do is plant various shrubs or plants that might increase the chance of certain bugs appearing. Here is a group of bugs that you would certainly be likely to find on milkweed :]

Featuring: monarch, oleander aphid, large milkweed bug, small milkweed bug, cobalt milkweed beetle, milkweed longhorn beetle

[crevicedwelling]

I see at least one cool bug a day, and usually many more, but it’s not because I live anywhere particularly rich in strange, wonderful creatures (I live in an unremarkable corner of Pennsylvania, USA) or spend all of my free time looking for bugs (well, just *most* of it). in my experience, finding interesting bugs is less about actually locating them and more about looking closely at tiny things you’d otherwise ignore!

this very long post was compiled over a couple days in late July, although I spent less than 10 minutes at a time searching. there’s a lot of fun creatures just out in the open.

plants are always a good place to start when looking for bugs, and I chose this small fig tree (Ficus carica) with a mulberry sapling friend. feeding on the sap of the fig and mulberry is the first group I’ll take a look at, the planthoppers:

these two are flatid bugs, Metcalfa pruinosa and Flatormenis proxima. flatids are slow-moving bugs that can be approached closely, but once they get tired of circling around stems to avoid you they may launch themselves into a fluttering flight with spring-loaded rear legs.

Aplos simplex, a member of the related family Issidae, also likes fig sap. its “tail” is actually a tuft of waxy secretions, which get shed along with the bright colors when it assumes a lumpy, bean-shaped adult form.

cicadellids, or leafhoppers, are just about everywhere on plants, but can be hard to approach without scaring them.

Agallia constricta on the left is a tiny species that feeds on grass, but many were scared up onto the fig by my footsteps. Jikradia olitoria is a much larger species that does feed on the fig; juveniles like this are curled, creeping goblins while adults’ rounded wings give them a pill-shaped appearance.

this big, pale leafhopper belongs to genus Gyponana. it’s tricky to get to species ID with these.

Graphocephala are striking little hoppers that eat a variety of native and nonnative plants. G. coccinea is the larger, more boldly colored one and G. versuta is smaller but more common locally. they’ll sit on the tops of leaves but take flight if you get too close quickly.

another group you’re almost guaranteed to encounter are flies (Diptera). these are a very diverse group, so much more than houseflies and mosquitoes (though I did run into both)

where I live, any plant with broad leaves is almost guaranteed to have a few Condylostylus, long-legged flies that come in shades of blue, green, and red. despite their dainty physique, they’re agile predators, typically feeding on other small flies.

next, a few hoverflies: the ubiquitous Toxomerus geminatus and a Eumerus that I’ve been seeing a lot of this year (but maybe I’ve just noticed them for the first time). syrphids have varied life histories, but most adults drink nectar and many of the larvae are predaceous on aphids.

the metallic green soldier fly is Microchrysa flaviventris, nonnative here. Coenosia is a fun example of a “fly that looks like a fly,” with big red eyes and a gray body, and you might think they’re just another dung-sucking pest, but they’re actually aggressive predators! this one seemed to have nabbed itself some sort of nematoceran fly, maybe a fungus gnat.

many flies are very tiny, just millimeters long. the first two little fellows are lauxaniids, while the last one, an agromyzid leafminer Cerodontha dorsalis, burrows through grass leaves as a larva.

while moths and butterflies (Lepidoptera) are drawn to plants for their flowers or to lay eggs, many small moths can easily be found resting on or under leaves during the day.

these first two are tortricids, many of which are flat, rectangular moths resembling chips of bark or dead leaves. the apple bud moth, Platynota idaeusalis, feeds on a wide variety of hosts, while this beat-up old Argyrotaenia pinatubana would have developed in an edible tube nest of pine needles.

Callima argenticinctella feeds in bark and dead wood (a resource used by more caterpillars than you’d realize!) while the last moth, possibly an Aspilanta, is a leafminer.

although beetles (Coleoptera) are famous for their diversity, I didn’t find too many on the fig. the invasive Oriental beetle Exomala orientalis resting here can be found in a wide range of colors, from this common tan to to deep iridescent black. the other beetle is a Photinus pyralis firefly, sleeping under leaves as fireflies do.

a few spare hemipterans: a Kleidocerys resedae that blew in on a wind, and below, the mulberry whitefly Tetraleurodes mori feeds on its namesake host. as for Hymenoptera, I saw manny tiny parasitic braconid wasps and various ants attracted to the planthoppers’ honeydew excretions—always worth checking underneath roosting hoppers for things having a drink.

a couple handsome spider boys were scrambling through the fig seeking females, a jumping spider Paraphidippus aurantius and an orbweaver, Mecynogea lemniscata.

and to round it off, a young Conocephalus meadow katydid and a Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina.

there’s 31 species of arthropod in this post, and I probably saw some 45, not all of which stayed for photos. if you walk slowly and look closely, you can see a sizeable chunk of your local biodiversity in under fifteen minutes! of course this will depend on where you live and what time of year it is, but there’s almost always more cool bugs out there than you’d expect, even on just a single plant.

[lucyswinter]

earlyseasons!spencer having a crush on fem!reader headcannons?

.-‘*•_spencer reid crush hcs .•*-.’💗’-.•*

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none :)

♡ ♡ ♡

-you guys were both hired onto the bau around the same time, so you went through training together and were well aquatinted by the time you were officially colleagues

-he always thought you were really pretty, but didn’t really develop a crush until he saw you in action at work, and was immediately stricken with you after your first case. the way you could command a room and take charge…he thought it was very atttactive

-he looooves talking with you! he isn’t super easily flustered or anything, he just takes any chance he can get to start a conversation.

-to add on, he always comes up with random little facts for you each day. “hey, y/n! i love your ladybug earrings. oh, did you know that a ladybug can eat up to 75 aphids a day? cool right!?”

-always remembers little things about you. you could call it his love language, but that’s really just who he is. within the first few days of meeting you, he already knew your coffee order by heart, and brought it to you nearly every morning

-even though he doesn’t really get flustered easily, he does get a bit…okay a lot blushy at any small touches. like you brush past him on the way to a meeting? his cheeks are red immediately

-he likes to daydream sometimes, and he often spaces out and stares at you without realizing. you’ve caught him looking a few times, but never said anything

-his favorite part about you was your smile. he loved seeing it after he made a corny joke or shared a lame fact. he liked being able to make you happy.

-he thought he was fairly discreet about it, but everyone else at the office thought his crush was painfully obvious

-it didn’t take him long to realise he wanted to ask you out. it took him a while before he was able to build up the confidence, but one day, after one two many cups of coffee (one cup), he stopped you in an empty corner of the office and just went for it

-“look I- this is probably really random and it’s a bit crazy that I’m doing this, but I just- whew okay…I like you. A lot. You’re like… really pretty and really smart and I would like it very much if I could take you out or get coffee or…” you roll your eyes at his caffeine fueled rant and interrupt him by pressing your lips to his

-“sooo…you like me too?” “yes, you idiot! now kiss me again!”

♡ ♡ ♡

[ms0milk]

racked with summer somethings

iguro x fem reader [cw] body image struggles. reader fights with insecurity post-injury and iguro wants a kiss so badly he'll let some students die. 1.9k

three huge cheers for @serendipitous-soul and their generosity and patience in waiting for this piece to be published! thank you so much for trusting me with your @ficsforgaza request. I hope a slightly stubborn and overtly obsessed Iguro brightens your day <3

“No, Iguro wait–” Pushing him back is agony. Not because you crave the gentle kisses, not because you’re still clammy with afternoon sweat, but because he is so persistent the pushing has become a less than playful beating, “Down, boy!”

He leans closer the farther away you turn until you’re practically underneath him, one hand pressed over his face in your attempt to keep him off. His bandage seams lift in the gentle roughhouse. “Y/n,” his voice is firm. Let me kiss you. Let me see you. It is firm with his usual requests, sitting just unspoken at the edge of your name.

“M’gross–”

“Take that back,” he grunts, this time slipping a hand under your arm to cup your chin. He will have you. “What’s wrong?”

“Something has to be wrong to stay ungroped for the afternoon?”

Iguro folds himself around you like paper and presses you both into the swollen wall of his wooden greenhouse. It hosts aphids in the winter to feed crickets to feed birds to feed Kaburamaru and on summer days like this, groans like it’d rather collapse than endure its master’s appetite. “Oi, Igu–wait!”

You try to force another wait out before the Hashira's breath on your throat makes your voice crack but certainly too slowly to keep him from running his hands up your thighs and unfastening your scabbard belt with one hand. It’s Hashira training week, and no doubt the corps members assigned to him are begging for mercy somewhere their supervisor doesn’t have to hear. Your fingers dig between the folds of his increasingly disheveled bandages, he dips into you again, he shivers at your fingertips hot on his jaw, he does not care your other hand is pulling his hair and thwapping the top of his head repeatedly.

“You’re kissing me through bandages! You’re in such a rush you’re not even– NO don’t take them off, there’s no time to wrap you back up again!”

“No one will see,” he begs like a child negotiating for candy.

“Yeah cos they’re all dying– as we– Iguro!”

He is at your mercy, always, you are the head of his household more than his wife, his general, and today his general feels like shit. Training leaves you breathless and sweaty and makes him glow. Humid summer days fray the hairstyles you so carefully construct and melt makeup and soak fabric and make your husband shine with life, a delicate pink on the highest point of his cheeks. Your recent injury compounds pain with frustration: day after day in the Butterfly Mansion testing the strength of your healing knee and it taking two tiny nurses just to hold you up.

Iguro moves with every strong and graceful movement of a serpent. He doesn’t bump into tables, chairs, soldiers, or door frames or worry about the way his clothes fall over the curves of his body. Watching him is like sneaking into the opera. His noh would stop hearts.

“Your injury,” he startles and you return to the shade of the greenhouse where your husband wants to hold you. He drops his hands from where they’ve made a home under your top and in the pleats of your hakama and quickly leans away to see you better. “I wasn’t thinking.”

The fabric on your back clings to splinters in the greenhouse wall. Sweat collects where your thighs touch and under his gaze you can’t hide imperfection. “That’s not,” you start, but his eyes are filling with worry faster than you can prepare sarcasm. “I’m not hurting,” you murmur instead to stamp out budding concern.

“Then what’s wrong?”

The indignation is almost comical, like you’ve committed some horrible crime in withholding kisses. “It’s hot, Iguro, I haven’t rinsed off.”

“I don’t care if you’re sweaty.”

“I care if I’m sweaty,” you bite like he won’t bite back.

“Why would you care about what I want to taste? Does imagining my undersalted lunch put you in a shitty mood too?” You should have expected this; he’s such an instigating shit. “Y/n,” he presses, his voice matches the weight his palms bear on your waist even as you prickle, “what’s wrong?”

“The list is getting longer.”

“My love.”

If frustration could kill you’re not sure which one of you it would take in the muggy summer shade of your home. My love, Darling, Master, summer thunderstorms, winter nests, gifts brought back from distant villages to decorate this body and meant to suit someone so much different than you. Terms of affection meant for eastern goddesses and tiny little wives in their birdbone kimonos.

Your knee shifts without permission as it’s recently begun to do when it’s in use for too long. “Let’s change your bandage,” Iguro offers patiently instead of letting flares of worry show in his voice, “wrap you up tighter.” But he knows he’s the last person you want to see the wound there. Hunger shaped, a slice out of your body like a bite from bread, stitches swimming in the knotted scar from a spar with a demon that just couldn’t die quietly.

“Go save your students,” you admonish with a fond push. He leans into you instead of away and your fingers spread, your palms shift flat on the chest of the man you love.

“If they couldn’t last this long they’re dead already.”

“Obanai Iguro.”

“Obanai Y/n,” he replies without delay. In the sweltering shade, he draws his hands from your hips, up your waist and soft onto the clefts of your face. His palms cup your jaw. “What are you thinking about?” You roll your eyes and bring your own hands up to settle his someplace the sweat wont pool immediately, but he holds you steadfast. His students really might die if you leave them much longer.

His greengold stare is completely disarming and you know better than to let it hold you for too long, but the thoughts truly come faster than you can keep up with them. Training week is a logistical nightmare every year and besides feeding the swaths of corps members, keeping them alive in Serpent Manor, and their uniforms unpissed in, is the larger struggle. Watching the shapes they make under your husband’s instruction stings familiarly. You don’t look like that when you fight. Your hips fill your hakama with curves no one here has and in a field that requires uniformity, it hurts how much you stand out– how easily your skin scars, marks, bruises, and stretches– how much more room you take up. It’s always easier when the house is empty.

Iguro’s thumb catches your lip and rolls over the oil you use to gloss them. The one he loves to taste and that dots his white uniform with shiny little spots now, in all the places you tried to deter him with a bite. “Well?”

“I don't like training week.”

His cheeks pinch under his eyes with a soft smile, “I know.” And he tickles the notch of your jaw with delicate fingers. He traces the curls of your ears. It aches. “Your knee will heal. You’ll fight again.” What can you do but close your eyes? His will burn holes in you, then what good will you be? His graceful fingers tuck away your loose hairs. Does he like it when you make yourself smaller like this? He’s never once liked it, but is today the day he changes his mind? Does he wish you looked like the other slayers? Slim and featherlight– the thought hasn't left you in days– the idea you might not have been injured so badly if you weren't such a big target.

Iguro breathes once deeply and covers your ears with flat palms.

A warm breeze teases you both around the ankles to remind everyone that summer won’t end anytime soon. You think too much, you’re sure he drawls before the world goes silent.

“Hey,” you warn and try to pull his hands down but he shakes his head– your voice grates inside your own. It’s too hot to stand so close but you don’t quite pull back, even as August damp makes your tunic uncomfortable. He tilts your head in his hands every time you look at something other than him, “Iguro.”

The crepemyrtles rustle at a distance in purples and pinks, he draws you back to him, swallows dive for wasps in the begonias, he draws you back to him, nothing makes a sound past his strong calloused hands. It’s finally quiet. Your fingertips find purchase in the fabric of his haori. His knuckles vibrate with all the things he says that you cannot hear.

You murmur his name. He vibrates again. Your husband picks favorites; you, his general, his wife, his master, and he is never subtle. Subtlety kills devotion. Iguro’s sharp eyes trace adoration into summer air while he keeps noisy humid thoughts from haunting you. His chest rumbles with speech you can’t make out in this peace you can’t find on your own.

What about you makes him so soft? His rumpled bandages tighten against his lips as he speaks and all it takes is one finger to pull them away. You tug once gently, hands rising like smoke from their home on his chest as he makes a shelter for you behind the shade of the greenhouse.

You, his soft lips mouth, Y/n. His own scars crawl along his perfect cheeks and tighten when you trace them in the quiet of his love. Your love is the first night he let you see them, fireworks on a cemetery hill and hiding as best you could, the rush of an overfilled heart. He doesn’t hide from you, even when it makes his well-trained fingers shake. He doesn’t stop speaking when you touch the part of himself he hates so much.

I want you. Iguro’s lips make the shape of every syllable so slowly you couldn’t misread them if you tried, the three words you feed to him on bad days like medicine. Y/n. I want you.

The realization comes with slightly more embarrassment than you’d like for such a hot day. Warmth rises in your cheeks and the heat threatens to make tears. How much more similar could you two possibly be? How many more signs do you need to believe that he was made just for you? When you kiss him you are gentle and his hold over your ears falters so that he can hold you properly.

“I want you, Y/n.”

“I heard you.”

“Scars and all.”

“Have me.”

“I won’t have you any differently. I won’t have you smaller, weaker. You wouldn’t be my wife that way.”

“Kiss me then, chatterbox.”

Iguro finally relaxes against you in the unbearable summer air, inescapable by shade, swim, or fan. He cradles the back of your neck like looking away from him would even be possible in the closeness of your kiss. In the minutes before battered corps members begin limping back to the top of your mountain home, you don’t need to think about dinner or dressing wounds or keeping your bandages hidden. You don’t spare a thought for the breakable nurses at the Butterfly Mansion or how predictably tsuguko marvel at the strength behind your kicks. Easier than training, than putting out fires, easier than smoothing balm on your scars, easier than nursing hips bruised from doorways or learning to sew your hakama just right, is letting Iguro soothe your worry with stolen kisses in the sticky shade of the greenhouse. Scars and all, the predictable pair of you.

(divider by @cafekitsune!)

[waterghostype]

one of these but for the um

[wiisagi-maiingan]

If you are struggling with wild pests in your crops or garden, then the best way to get rid of them isn't by using barn cats or pesticides or whatever, it's by bringing in wild predators.

Wolves and mountain lions and other large predators are always going to be better at keeping deer and coyote populations down than hunters.

Birds of prey, foxes, and snakes are always going to be better at keeping rodents away than cats or poison.

Native predatory insects, rodents, foxes, and birds are always going to be better at keeping pest bugs, slugs, aphids, and the like away than pesticides.

The trick is to work with nature instead of fighting against it, letting yourself and your work be part of the ecosystem instead of trying to stay separate.

[gacha-brained]

Ororon's stories and the way other characters speak about him always emphasizes how well-behaved, nice, and overall innocent he is. Which makes it 10 times more hilarious and batshit that his one act of proper rebellion isn't just against one of his parent figures, but against the Archon herself, and his choice of method is joining THE ELITE SQUAD OF THE FIRST FATUI HARBINGER. Dude decides to go on an insane side quest in his 20s in the middle of living a very chill life of gardening, looking after aphids, sharing his homegrown produce, and being friends with like a single dude. And then he just goes right back to growing his vegetables after becoming a Hero of the whole nation.

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 25 - You Never Know Who Is Listening.

First Chapter Previous Chapter future chapters on ao3 here

Warnings: pregnant!reader, pregnancy symptoms, mention of dead bodies, brief derogratory language.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

"Oh hey, it's you! How are you doing with... everything?" Paimon floated over with a grin, quickly correcting herself from asking about your pregnancy in public, directly anyway. Although your bump wasn't exactly easy to hide anymore...

"We're okay, how have you two been? I met Nepecha by the way, thank you for all you did in saving her with Xilonen. " You asked, giving the Traveller a grateful look as they'd given Paimon a deadpan expression to watch her words, "oh... also something about aphids, Xilonen mentioned that too?"

"We're okay, we're just preparing to head to Sumeru! It's Nahida, Lesser Lord Kusanali's birthday, so we're going to help with the Sabzeruz Festival and celebrate with everyone!" Paimon explained, gesturing to the supplies that the two had been buying in the stadium.

"Ah, that's the festival with the carriage and sweets are thrown, right? How about you two take some of this for the Dendro Archon, you probably have loads in your bag already, but this chocolate tastes really good, and if Kusanali has a sweet tooth, I think she'll like it." You led the two over to a stall, ignoring what was on display in favour of talking to the owner, who nodded and revealed the specific chocolates from nearby.

"Wait, Paimon has never seen these ones before!" Paimon's eyes glowed as you passed the chocolates to the Traveller, passing the stall owner some mora before they could.

"They're really good, I've been craving a lot so I've cornered the market down here on it all, there's some stuff from other nations here too, but not a lot-"

"We'll bring you back some candies from Sumeru as a thank you." The Traveller beamed, tucking the chocolates away into their bag before Paimon could eat them, much to her pouting.

"Paimon, Golden Outlander, here." You held out two chocolates, one for each of them.

"Ooh so yummy! Wait, Paimon wants to know why you call the Traveller that, you never call them Traveller?" Paimon ate the chocolate quickly, floating closer to you as you hummed.

"Because I think people should be calling you by your name, not that moniker. Although you don't always respond to the name you've given people either... it's whatever, probably safer for you with how Celestia can be. You two travel safely to Sumeru okay?" you smiled softly, ignoring the confusion on Paimon's face and the relief on the Golden Outlander's, who smiled back at you, waving as the two headed out of the stadium, and soon, out of Natlan.

///

It had been a week of rebuilding, with the Traveller and Paimon out of the picture recovering and enjoying the Sabzerus Festival. Mavuika was all over the place, hoping on Flamestrider as she went to check on each individual tribe's recovery. The losses were piling up, while Kinich was trying to help identify bodies, you were trying to coordinate the supply shipments from the stadium, but you were struggling.

"You think because you're allegedly having the Archon's baby that you can take charge here?"

Your eyes widened at the insinuation, holding onto the clipboard you'd been reading to try figure out what supplies were to be sent where.

"What in the abyss are you trying to suggest?" you glared, folding your arms at the man, clipboard by your side. It was one of the two who spoke blasphemy about Kachina and Mavuika during the last Pilgrimmage.

"Oh please, why would a God ever have a baby with you? You're not even a warrior. You're just a whore that the Archon took pity on." His name didn't matter to you, his words shouldn't matter either, but instead, your breath hitched, frozen in place as everyone around you went eerily quiet.

"Archon?" his voice trembled, the God of War's stare laced with ice and solemnity. Her heels were the only thing heard as she walked over, not saying a word as the man trembled. "Archon, I, uh..."

Forcing his gaze away from the intensity of Haborym's, he looked at you, before he ran, leaving everyone to stare as Mavuika's gaze followed him out of sight.

"Is that really how people see me-" you began to question, your eyes glassing over with tears, but a loud thud caught your attention. Turning on your heel to hurry towards the sound, Mavuika gently placed her hand on her shoulder to stop you.

"That isn't worth your attention." Her cold stare was long gone, but her professionalism lingered as she took the clipboard from your hands, glancing over it, "Iansan has volunteered a caravan to transport these supplies. You organised everyone here well, despite his insults."

A shaky sigh escaped your lips, wishing Mavuika could do more than stand by you in this moment, but being able to bask in the presence of Natlan's undying sun, the love of your life, was enough. You needed to get used to not relying on Mavuika, especially after her impending death.

"I'm sorry..." your gaze remained on the floor, looking over your bump as Mavuika and yourself headed back to the Speaker's Chamber.

"Why are you apologising? You were the one who was insulted."

"But, his words weren't entirely wrong. You're an Archon, and as much as I emphasise you are more than that, everyone else sees you as the Pyro Archon, the God of War. Not the God of Love or Marriage, so getting tangled up with me- I was barely a warrior before, I'm someone who never even participated in the Pilgrimmage because I didn't want to ruin Chasca's winning streak by being on her team... and I- I never wanted to distract you and ruin your 500 year goal to end this millenia long war, Mavuika." Turning on your heel, you were about to walk out, hoping that a supply caravan would be heading towards your tribe so you could give Mavuika space.

"You could never ruin it. As the Archon, I'm great at problem-solving, but often, people just want companionship. I wasn't able to provide this for anyone when I returned, but you provided it to me in a way that felt warm, a kindred spirit of fire, who loves to explore and find out everything. I know you were caught sneaking to Ochkanatlan multiple times, and I know how much you care, for me, the plan, for Natlan. You gave me more than enough motivation to complete my plan, by giving me a close connection in this time... something I didn't have 500 years ago. I may have been your first love, but you are mine too..." Mavuika's face burned at that reminder, watching as you turned around to listen.

You had not believed her about that confession, at first. She could have anyone in Natlan that she wanted after all. Mavuika knew how to kiss better than you did, but the way she froze up, hair lighting up and her jaw hanging open the first time the two of you were intimate... it was like Mavuika had always put her duty to her nation before her own needs, until that moment anyway.

"I told you before, I regret nothing we have done, I will always love you, even in death. I will always love our children too. Please let them know that-" Mavuika was cut off as you frowned, your hand immediately going to your bump as your Archon froze in fear, "are you alright? Is it the twins?"

"Give me your hand." You removed her glove carefully, bringing her bare hand over your bump to feel what you just felt. Mavuika's eyes widened at the feeling, the movement of one of the twins felt beneath her palm, "they're kicking... I spoke to my ma-mother before, she said that I'd feel them moving but this, they're kicking, Mavuika. I think they heard you." Mavuika removed her other glove with her teeth, her eyes brimming with tears as you brought her other hand to where you were guessing the other twin was kicking too, hoping it was them and not the other foot of twin A.

"They, they can hear me?" to anyone else, Mavuika would sound uncharacteristically shy, but you knew sides to her that she kept hidden because of the war. Mavuika pushed away any ideas of love, companionship, because it didn't matter if the war was still going... but now? Mavuika's sun eyes were glassy, almost glowing with emotion as she let out a breath.

"They can hear you, hear their mother." You moved your hand, reaching up to cup her cheek. There was no option to hide her emotion with her sunglasses this time.

"I love you," Mavuika closed her eyes momentarily, leaning into your touch, before shifting and dropping to her knees, "I love you two too," she spoke directly to your bump, not seeing how you flustered at her on her knees in front of you. She was too distracted by grinning goofily at your bump, how the twins were kicking her palms through your belly.

You were lucky nobody was about to walk into the Speaker's Chamber and witness this... Chasca would probably tackle Mavuika, and neither you or Chuychu could physically stop her now.

///

"Hey, can we talk?" Chasca knocked on the door to the Speaker's Chamber, getting no response as she headed inside, looking for who she was after. The staff had told her you and Mavuika were there but, was anyone around?

[breaking-the-ice-au]

roots - rosekiller microfic - breaking the ice au - word count: 233

Evan did this a lot. Ignored him. They fell out a lot, as best friends did. But it always made Barty feel so small, so insignificant. Evan Rosier was a rose. Beautiful, timeless, elegant. His cornrows were pale and his eyes a shocking baby blue, but his blood was startlingly red. Burning, bright, like flower petals. Once Evan blocked a puck that was headed for Barty’s chest, and his finger bled. His blood was just so shining and bright.

But roses had thorns. Barty felt one now, digging deep into his chest, twisting with every nonchalant glance Evan threw in his direction. Maybe he was the one that was bleeding. It hurt so much, so bad. If Evan wanted to break up, he could have said so. He didn’t need to move away to the other side of the pitch, as far away as possible. And no explanation either. Evan hadn’t said a word to him all day. Just furtive stares.

Barty had had to hear about the whole changing positions arrangement from Sirius flipping Black of all people. Sirius, who was now his fellow defender. The thought made him squirm like aphids were running down his back. Another thing roses were was desirable. Always, so, so desirable. Barty longed for Evan, needed him with every fibre of his being. But apparently this rose has replanted itself far far away from its roots.