#burning spotted thistles

[burning-thistles-bt]

Cat Ages Based on Human Milestones

Warrior cats age equivalents has always been a very sketchy and confusing thing. Many people often just do a linear cat to human age, ex.: 1 month = 1 year, but I've always believed it isn't so straight forward and that warrior cats' age physically and mentally different.

I think the best way to determine a cat's age in relation to a human's age is based on milestones, such as when a toddler takes their first steps, or a kitten first starts eating wet food.

But, as you'll see, there are discrepancies in doing this. For example, humans are often walking better before they're weaned off milk/baby food, while kittens can often be weaned off milk before they're walking without wobbling. Additionally, cats can become sexually mature very young (child age), while that is more rare in humans (though not impossible).

Cat maturity has a different "system" than human maturity, so this is just a close equivalent to help some people visual the ages better.

Cat age = Human age

3 weeks = 2 years - 3 weeks is when weaning off of milk and onto wet food often begins. Similarly, 2 years is considered the "cut-off" for babies breastfeeding. Capable of talking at this point, though communitive abilities differentiate

4 moons = 10* years - cats can become sexually mature at 4 months of age. Generally, afab persons can start puberty at 10 years and technically be "sexually mature"

6 moons = 6* years - when apprenticeship starts is akin to when first grade starts, but I'd personally say 6 moons old feels more akin to a 9-10 year old (4th grader) to me and 4 moons old are the 1st graders, especially considering the next age and context of "sexual maturity"

7 moons = 12 years - most places consider cats "adults" when they are seven months old, as they are mostly done growing. 12 years is generally when puberty begins, so it's technically the opposite (start growing)... but in ye olden days, you could be considered an adult at 12 so. It's the closest equivalent if we are keeping 12 moons = 18 years.

12 moons (1 year) = 18 years - both are when they are considered independent "adults" in their societies

84 moons (7 years) = 40-50 years - 7 years is the "senior" status for cats, when they're "old" adults. Most people call 40 year old's old

120 moons (10 years) = 60-70 years - the "retirement" ages

216 moons (18 years) = 100-110 years - 18 years for a cat is like living past 100 years for a human. Though it should be noted wild/stray cats do not tend to live as long as indoor cats, so this is especially a "rare" age for warrior cats

Based on these milestones, I would put the warrior cats aging as....

Orange, aging rapidly, at a 1 month = 1.5 year rate

0-1 moon = 0-2 years (newborn-toddler)

2 moons = 3 years (toddler)

3 moons = 4-5 years (child)

4 moons = 6 years (child)

5 moons = 7-8 years (child)

6 moons (.5 year) = 9-10 years (pre-teen)

7 moons = 11-12 years (pre-teen)

8 moons = 13-14 years (teen)

Green, aging cools down to 1 month = +1 year equivalent

9 moons = 15 years (teen)

10 moons = 16 years (teen)

11 moons = 17 years (senior teen)

12 moons (1 year) = 18 years (senior teen)

13-16 moons = 19-22 years (young adult)

17-24 moons (2 years) = 23-30 years (young adult)

25-30 moons= 31-36 years (adult)

Red, aging slows down

31-40 moons = 37-38 years (adult)

41-50 moons = 39-40 years (adult)

51-60 moons = 41-43 years (adult)

61-70 moons = 44-46 years (adult)

71-80 moons = 47-49 years (senior adult)

81-90 moons = 50-52 years (senior adult)

91-100 moons = 52-59 years (senior adult)

101-110 moons = 60-64 years (young senior)

111-120 moons = 65-74 years (young senior)

Blue, elder age is hit, aging is still slow, depends on health of cat

121-130 moons (10 years) = 75-81 years (senior)

131-140 moons = 82-88 years (senior)

141-150 moons = 90-94 years (senior)

151-160 moons (12 years) = 95-99 years (senior)

161-215 moons = 100-109 years (centurion)

216+ moons (18 years) = 110+ years (centurion)

Please note that this is just a best guess estimate. Cats age physically and mentally different than humans, which makes it hard to "exact" their ages.

In general, it is accepted that 0-6 moons is a child, 7-12 is a teen, and 13+ is an adult, with some age around 90-100 moons being the elder age.

Thistlestar was around 29-30 moons when Spottedleaf at 12 moons gave birth to Firestar+. Thistlestar would be a 35-36 old adult and Spottedleaf an 18 year old who was impregnated at 17 years. Thistlestar first began grooming/showing interest in her when she was 2-3 years old, and they entered a relationship when she was around 10 human years old and he 23-25 years old.

(This is assuming my cat age for Thistlestar is correct - I'm currently reworking all cats' ages.)

[burning-thistles-bt]

*squeals* THIS IS AMAZING!!!!!!!

i've been reading this warriors au on Ao3 where fireheart and his siblings are born into thunderclan to Spottedleaf and Thistlestar, so I wanted to draw some fanart!

[llamagoddessofficial]

ok, i absolutely adore the bad sans fae

but for the life of me, i can’t remember if there are any Aggre fae asks. and if there’s not any, well, that’s just a crime. a crime i’d like to rectify, if that’s alright :3

Sans seems like your average fae. Perhaps friendlier than usual. Particularly good with words, he has a thing for silly pranks, harmless practical jokes like swapping your salt for sugar and turning your hair different colours. He really enjoys poetry and wordplay, and would love to hear you sing - and if you can outsmart him, he'll be absolutely delighted.

... Under the surface, though, he's got quite the mean streak. He's the old kind of trickster; not quite as old as Farmer, but absolutely the kind of fae people genuinely used to fear. The kind that could trick a cow out of her udders, or a cat out of its tail, the kind you'd use salt and rowan and thistles to ward away. He'd never trick you, though! You're his favourite. And those days are behind him, obviously. He'd never lie to you, look at his cute face.

Let's just hope no one messes around with his favourite.

Red is a high-ranking member of the Summer court, because of his incredible skill with metalworking. His magical swords, charmed rings, intricately carved chestplates, beaded necklaces and wing cuffs are highly sought after items in both courts. Raw metal can burn fae, so most avoid it... and yet, despite the cascade of scars decorating his hands and arms, Red just covers up with gloves and keeps working. His soft spot for humans means some of his magical items wind their way the pockets of weary or down-on-their-luck travellers.

He'll flirt by making you beautiful things. Bracelets, earrings, circlets, you might even find he's woven protective charms into them to keep dangerous/pesky fae (like Sans) away. He's good with his words, and it's not just his forge that burns hot and bright... why don't you come pay him a visit sometime? Wear that necklace he made you. Just that.

Skull is a rare case of a fae who wanders, quite happily, back and forth between the two realms. He likes the light of the Summer realm, but the solitude of Winter. Given his size, stature and intimidating face, he often finds himself being hired out to be some random fae's temporary muscle - basically, he's the fae equivalent of a sellsword. Somehow he's managed to work his way up the ranks, and it's not uncommon to see him at the sides of fae nobility during big festivals. He wears armour Red makes just for him (the two often find themselves working at the behest of the same client) and carries around a massive, beautifully engraved battle axe.

Once he sees you, it doesn't matter who tries to hire him. Because from that moment on, in his mind, he's sworn himself to you entirely. Human or fae, he'll follow you around, protecting you regardless of rain or shine. And given that he doesn't mind either Winter or Summer, there's nowhere you can go he won't follow to keep you safe.

[lostintransist]

I've come and gone from your page like four times, contemplating how to do part four with our stupid pretty Johnny "Soap" MacTavish.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the operator's cheek bone across from him. Another shit mission and co-op with Shadow Company. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped. Slamming the Operative against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission. Those burning blue eyes searing (SROP AUTO CORRECTING ME DAMMIT) into the shocked ones, a loud 'bang!' echoing out. Having Johnny freeze stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring... Before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground. "'m a decoy Sir, don' forget. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

SUCH A GOOD IDEA! I wanted to expand on this a bit so anything in italics is taken exactly from @lialucis' delicious ask.

Soulmate AU if you wanted to see more about Johnny's tattoo before reading this.

Not proofread. The sun has been gone to long for my eyes to stay focused long enough to fix any errors I might have made.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the [your] cheek bone [as you sit] across from him [at the long eating table].

The letters never made any sense to you. Though you once had a language professor chase you down to ask if you knew your tattoo was in Gaelic. You hadn't known but thanked him for the information. You had a tattoo artist you trust add vining leaves and small thistle flowers. Hiding it wasn't the goal, but you wanted to control who got to know. Almost everyone else had their marks in a hidable spot, able to mess around and not cause hurt feelings until it could be confirmed the marks don't match.

Not you though. Never had a first kiss because someone's claim to you superseded your autonomy. God sometimes you wish you could find the bastard and knock their block off. You had been close, once, to a first kiss. You had been sixteen and your mother found you sneaking off the back porch to meet up with a classmate who claimed to have your name inked across their inner right knee.

She broke down, disbelief and heartbreak crossing her face so fast tat even at sixteen and knowing everything you paused.

"The name on your birth certificate? The one we call you by? That isn't your first name. It's a tradition in a lot of places to give a secret first name so you can learn and grow into adulthood without having to worry about falling in love. I was going to tell you when you turned eighteen."

Despite all the justifications it had sliced at your bond with the claws of lies. You had gone to college out of state the same week you graduated and joined the military soon after bailing on your first semester. You had managed to flunk out of basic and ended up with a paramiltary contract group. You were a shadow because you liked to blow shit sky high and you were good with a weapon.

You were in Los Alamas on a job, functioning under Shadow Company Leader Phillip Graves. The man reminded you of fungus, creeping by so slow into your system that by the time he struck the killing blow you had been dead for weeks. Thankfully you didn't actually work for him. No. Phil lead the Shadows but he didn't create them. You worked directly for the head of the company, and she had given you a specific job.

See she thought that Phil was taking to many liberties in leading her company. Your job was to sniff it out, kill anyone you deemed necessary, and report back. The payout from this single job would set you up for life. You financial planner confirmed it. Now all you had to do was survive.

That brought you back to the man staring at you. His eyes trailed up and down the bits of your soulmate tattoo he could see. It extended up into your hair which had grown long again.

Pulling down your lower lid and sticking your tongue out at him before lifting your tray and disappering among the bodies of the other shadows. You kept running into him, almost as if he were searching you out. It grated at your already frayed nerves.

Another shit mission and co-op with [the 141]. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped.

Phil had made his move, detaining Alejandro's men, and going home by home searching for the two members of the 141 that escaped. You slipped into the darkness behind them, skirting both the men who would kill you and the teammates who would label you a traitor. If you made it out of this they would know who really betrayed them.

[You had the misfortune of choosing the same wall for shelter as one "Soap". Slamming [you] against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission [he snarled down at you. Again his eyes strayed to your tattoo insted of your eyes.]

"What are you doing here?"

A loud 'bang!' echo[ed] out. [Soap froze], stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring...[at your eyes finally and not just your face], before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground.

"'m a decoy Sir. [The owner of the Shadows is not pleased with Phillip Graves and I am the nail in his coffin]. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

The crackle of a radio between you breaks the moment.

"Johnny, you find any supplies yet?"

"Not yet L.T." he releases you and the button on the radio.

"Let's get your arm patched and get the fuck out of here. I have the city memorized. I had a feeling that something might happen." Peeking around corners you confirm the clear shot to an empty building.

Soap moves with you, on your heels and breath on your neck. Inside the empty builing there is a solid desk. You order Soap to sit there and begin to bandage his bleeding arm with the only roll of gauze you keep in your vest pack. Focused on wrapping and tightening down on the bleeding you miss his hand moving until a finger traces each letter with surity.

"I think this is my name." His whisper is shared to the dark as your eyes snap to his.

"What does yours say?" The quiet question comes out, harsh and haunting.

"That's the oddest thing, it's as if it's two names mashed together. As if their parent wanted to be sure they would know who their soulmate was."

Stumbling back you trip over your own boot. That conversation with your mother drifted back to you across the canyon of time.

"We slapped two family names together for you. We, I, wanted you to be sure when you found him," her heartbroken confession rocking you to the core.

"Holy fuck."

Soap grinned down at you before standing and offering you his uninjured side. Taking his hand he helps you up. You don't protest when his fingers slip between yours.

"How 'bout we go find my L.T. at a church and get the hell out of here bonnie?"

"You know I don't have much else going on tonight. That sounds like a plan."

His laugh is loud, and so much more gratifiing when it happens for you and not only near you.

Masterlist

[squiddy-god]

Ode to a prideful knight

(Sebek zigvolt x reader)

Re-upload, anyways, this is done in a similar style to "captured" and "confessions to a Fae" this is like Knight! Sebek x noble! Reader. Reader is human sebek is down bad.

CW : simp, knight! Sebek, human reader, fem! Reader I think, fluff

2.8k

Tall was the knight who adorned himself in the crest of his king, whose blade forged of steel was an extension of his will and pride. Boastful was the knight whose old gold eyes sparkled with green as if moss on the forest floor. Noble was the night who stood back straight as the arrow that never misses, whose brow forever was set firm in a scowl.

Uncharacteristically austere was the knight for one born half to the blood of those who dance in circles under moonlight and sing with trills of trickery, the prideful, nobal, frigid knight stood at post by his king. 

Leafs and ferns lined the ground his boots touched as he marched through the forest. Fauna grew in spectacular color and mystic hues, even the cynical man knew not why his libs carried him through the trees as deep as he could venture and further still. It was as if a spell took hold and beckoned him to this place, ruins of mortal men swallowed by the weald that he grew in, statues grown with vines and tarnished with broken limbs. Crashing in his chest like thunder and beating like lightning his heart pulled him with a string towards flowers of thistle purple and coral pink. Soft petals that drape down and dance with the breath of the spring air.

They brushed against his soft locks of nyanza green and left cornsilk petals in their wake. Tranquility was steeped in the soft glow of sunlight that brushed so delicately acros his pale skin, but as if a stone was skipped in a calm pond the moment was broken when slitted pupils caught sight of such an enchanting image as your skin aglow with life. Sat atop that tall wall like a callow youth was the one that had so captured his gaze, burning intensely as the knight looked on but walked no further, not to the shallow pond that housed few rocks and the thick roots of a tree that grew from under the wall. 

“But what's the harm if I explore! The woods are safe, are they not m'lady?” you spoke, words like sweet morning dew, the woman you talked with sighed “it may be safe for now but you know of the unease that festers between those who live behind the thorns! So please i beg you come down” exasperated the woman pleaded with you and the knight cursed the fate so cruel to trap his heart in this meadow only to pluck his favorite flower. Yet you seemed to relent a final glance towards the forest and only a glimpse of his figure that you thought nothing of before you were gone. 

His breath fluttered in his lungs, had you spotted him? His unbecoming staring had the image of you seared into his blinking eyes, light of the spring sun giving warmth to your features. Old legends say that even those born to cynicism and stony resentment could become enraptured by bliss in but a glance. 

The beauty you held was unlike else he'd seen, a beauty so unique to the golden green eyes of the fae that- for a moment- he wondered if even you saw it in yourself as he did, but thoughts like this he pushed from his mind, his awestruck gaze returning to but a crocodile scowl as the knight himself returned to the wild thicket. But his love was fated to grow next to those violet roses that crawled up your tall stone wall. 

Fate was not in good spirits or clever humor he thought, how it brought his mind to you, a sight he could neither forget nor bring himself to accept. What dastardly spell had you cast with a glance?  The incantation you must have muttered when he layed eyes on you that spring day? A week had passed and here he was, the snap of twigs and the crunching of pine under his heel as he marched with renewed vigor to those hanging branches of pastel flora. 

Slitted pupils grew slim against the vibrant backing of his iris, rapidly he breathed, quickly he ran and even quicker he unsheathed his sword when the source of that scream was within his sight, a nor huntsman or wanderer was the man whose blade was taken up against you. “YOU THERE! DO YOU DARE TO DRAW YOUR WEAPON AGAINST THEM” what was he saying? He couldn't hear as blood rushed past his ears, a burning rage not concealed within pools of gold now bubbling and boiling over. Even as the rays of light hit his steel sword the unknown man cowered at a booming voice the tore baited silence. The knight had not raised his sword nor made any move to attack but the coward scampered off hurriedly threw filtered light and thick overgrowth.

“Thank you sir-” “YOU FOOLISH HUMAN” his voice boomed more light with annoyance than the rage which seemed quelled. “Tch what foolishness were you up to that elicited such a scream” he was worried, a thought he'd never truly admit. Your face held neither guilt nor shame, but was indeed painted with gratitude and security. “You have my thanks, sir knight, i simply wished to explore but found myself in errr…quite the predicament” brows creased and tension seemed to stiffen his broad shoulders. “I don't know who i can repay you”

There was no need. “Allow me to escort you home” your smile was enough repayment, allas those were words he could not utter to you. 

He came often after that, skipping the stone in the pond by the wall as he extended a hand to yours, asking your accompaniment as you swept flower petals from his hair. Would he confess that his body felt alight with glee at your touch, at the almost loving way your fingers gathered petals from his shoulders? The words sat uncomfortably in his mouth, jaw clenched and lips pressed to a thin line when you drew near, he truly was a crocodile. 

“Oh knight~” your voice sang as you leaned over the stone wall just out of his grasp as always. And just as always he stepped without hesitation or pause, onto the engorged branches of the old tree that grew and whose roots sprawled into the meadow beyond the wall. You yourself stood on the plank of an old swing made when you were young, the shift of weight and unstable footing causing you to seek stability against the wall, and letting you reach over to greet your knight. 

Routine it had become to brush the petals from his hair and shoulders, and routine it had become to smile at the sight of such an uptight man covered in both the attire of a knight and the petals from soft flowers. “Have you heard the talk, sir knight?” he sighed “do not attempt to play coy with me, what are you getting at human” you feigned hurt, but as you leaned back into your dramatics your footing almost slipped. Your hands flew to the wall for stability but were caught but the knight, one hand holding you as the other firmly grasped your shoulder, the leather of his gloves where soft you thought, and the world seemed calm again. Soft trills of singing birds and the creekinging of roots were only marginally louder than the quiet breaths. 

“Foolish human, what am I to do with you? Come on now, over the wall” and you climbed the wall, not released from his grasp for long as he lifted you safely to solid ground.

His arms where strong as they seemed to hold you a moment in the warm sun, as if unable to move from the light, as if you where the sun itself the knight stood a moment longer before allowing you to nestle yourself on the grass between spiraling twisting roots and shaded by foliage of the same weeping willow tree. You sat and he stood, arms folded behind his back and feet together as if on guard for danger. “You were saying something?” he inquired. “Well, I wondered if you had heard of the competition in a week's time, for knights of fighters- heh really anyone who fancies themselves good with a sword.” glancing up at him his expression was not the soft one from a moment ago, but the one he always had. “I have no interest in the affairs of humans” you frowned and twiddled with a small blue hued flower by your side. “Really? It's a great chance to prove your skill or represent your lord, aaannnddd the prize is a kiss from someone of your choice-” his eyes perked up and it excited you “perhaps i could impress my lord!” oh how his heart boomed.could you hear it? The way it shaked and rattled in his ribs at the thought of your kiss, but he would take this to the grave with him, to let this human know of his affections was…no he couldn't, he would pretend that his spine did not shudder at the thought, that his palms did not grow moist with sweat as he felt himself wanting that prize. His pride, that damned pride of the knight would not allow him to fall, to fall so desperately in love with this human, but his pride would not let him lose, he would win this competition for the honor of his love and for the touch of your lips. “Oh, yes i'm sure he'd be very impressed if you won” 

Bright were the blinding rays that illuminated the dirt paths and vibrant colors of the cloth colored stands, strewn with the patterns of this kingdom in reds and greens and blues cheering crowds hollered at knights who prepared to fight. Up in high stands sat the king next to his own king malleus, standing alongside the king was his advisor and alongside malleus was lilia as expected. Next to the highest stands were slightly lowered stands where noble women sat and gawked in frilly petticoats and ruffles in spring hues, although like a blak sheep you stood out, sitting amongst them in simple clothing and a shifting uncomfortable glance around. He was curious as to why you sat with them out of place. 

He began to prepare, putting on the thick padded clothing and the cadmium green fabric over his head, the panels of fabric covering his back and front adorned with the crest he wore as a knight as well as the crest of his family. He fastened his belt around his waist loose and checked his sword, a blade without an edge as to not cause impairment

The haughty voice of the king flooded the open air, a man devoid of dignity and a fool of a king. True, tension and unease was rampant between the kingdoms since the time of the old queen and the king philip. “As you all have gathered here, your gratuitous and splendid king, me, hosts this tournament between knights and those who take up the sword! Besides the price of honor and gold, the champion shall also receive a blessing and kiss from the one of their choice” the fool of a king gestured towards the stands that you sat in with the noble women, “eligible noble women and the kingdoms beloved (y/n)” he laughed to himself as if this was a brilliant idea. “Have you anything to say to the competing knights and fighters?” the king asked. You glanced around the field as though your eyes were searching in vain for something you could not find, until with joy they landed on the figure close to the stands.

“Yes m’lord i do have something to say!” all eyes watched you as your figure leaned over the edge of the stands just far enough to almost reach the knight with tresses of feldgrau and nyanza green. He reached a hand up to yours, hardly bowed as to your outstretched one, but they were held together. “i already give my blessing to sir zigvolt!” you stated matter of factly, voice heard by all as whispers and murmurs sprouted like blackberry seeds. His face bloomed scarlet like spring carnations, the tips of his ears burning brighter in hue than even his pale skin. A prideful smile crept its way onto his face, chest inflating with confidence as he shot you a smug toothy gin. “I will win, with your blessing I will be victorious” as he turned away he paid no mind to the scowls and glares that followed the path he walked and saturated the air he breathed so thickly. 

Settled now from the shock of your statement the stands where envied with new life, howling and whistling cheers rang in the spring air and filled the ears of over confident knights and fighters.

Carried by wisps of wind, sand and dirt shifted and settled like dancing plumes of smoke around the footing of those who fought in the dirt flores arena. The world mattered not for the knight who stood tall and unflinching in the face of a steel blade thrust towards him. It was mocking really, the way he rolled his sinewy shoulders as if warming up, the lightning step of his feet that kicked up dirt and how the pommel of his sword struck his opponents center back. He was showing off, proving his capability in hope his love would praise his skill, and call him their knight. 

Another one defeated, dules passing by quickly as the knight's gaze became more intense, predatory as light cast the hard shadows of his strong features soft. To take up a sword seemed to come as naturally to the fae knight you watched as breathing, as being the same passionate yet sullen man you admired in your own secrecy just as he did. Even as he mounted a horse, confidence rolling off him in waves and floating like clouds to dampen the opponent in cowardice, he held an almost tangible pride, one that he wore on his shoulder and carried in his crest. 

You sat enraptured at the edge of your seat, palms flexing against the wood as your breath caught in your throat. Birds flap their bright wings within your stomach and you refused yourself to blink for the anticipation was too much. 

The lines of his head were creased in concentration, the long ple spiraling in green and white readied at his side, the way his jaw held firm and his lips pressed to a fine line, the way the cheers of the crowd faded to nothing more than a dull ringing in your ears as a grin split the heavens of your face and the knight opposite to the one you fancied was knocked off his horse. The hardened gaze that met yours held much more than pride and jovial victory, that old golden gaze held for only you a love that the fae had not harbored for another. 

You raised from your seat as soon as the cheers of victory brought you back from his gase, and you traversed down to the pit where your prideful knight dropped to his knee, gloved hands folded over his knee and head lowered to a bow.  

Gentle hands like flowerpetles cupped his face, and tilted it to meet your eyes. “Congratulations my valiant knight” you teased, yet with a touch soft as morning dew your lips fell to his hairline where nyanza green hair was slicked back, and there that touch of your lips lingered, and would continue to linger until he felt it again.

For love struck was the knight who kneeled to two, and prideful was the knight who held that image of you in his mind. Sturdy was the knight who held you in his arms when you fell not only for him but from that wall. Foolish was the knight, truly foolish was the knight who thought love would escape him, that it would not encroach on him like winding vines in such a fleeting moment. But even old legends tell tales of those mystic beings who dance in night time meadows and drink sweet cream and talk of magic amongst themselves, and who find love at a glance no matter how fleeting it may seem to those not blessed with the eyes to witness it. Yes prideful and foolish, and hopelessly in love was the knight who was blessed with those golden eyes laden with moss green. Blessed was he to have seen you sit on that tall wall, to watch violet roses bloom before him and foster those feelings of love. 

Blessed was that prideful knight to see the beauty you held, and blessed was he to love it, for he would always love what even you could not see. 

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you want another request, how about something with Four? I feel like he is an undertapped Link in the LU x reader fic verse. I also think he fits in well with a bunch of different story types. He has the skills to live a peaceful life at home with a partner, he has the Colors, he also can be small (or a Minish depending on whether you believe his is small or transforms into a Minish), & shadow…. I am not picky whatsoever , but if you are willing, could you do some Four x reader?

Order up!

*ahem* I AM MOST DEFINITELY WILLING. GIVEGIVEGIVEGIVE- I agree with you. This man needs more love. Formatting a little differently this time, let me know what y’all think!

(thanks again to @litrllyvoid for proofreadin’)

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Long he had lived a simple life. Even with the dramatic disruptions of the world, he could tell it wasn’t a life cut out for him. That grandeur had called to him, and when he responded, there was only judgement in turn. Since he was little, Link had found peace with the small world within his village. Running through uneven grassy hills and causing havoc, hand in hand with you. His arms and legs bruised, but with a full heart and genuine grin. Though, the older he gets, and the more the edges of his memory begin to fray, he wonders if that were truly the case. Perhaps it wasn’t that he was content with the world he was born into. It is on cold mornings such as this where the question burdened him most. Was it life that made him happy, or was it just you?

He burned the thought away, tugging at the fragile nerves that caressed his heart. He shrugged on some clothes with little regard for what he adorned himself with. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to impress— especially when he’d be working for the most of the day.

Each stair step creaked and groaned. His grandfather sat at the table, already eating breakfast. He plucked an apple on his way to sit, its waxy skin once a luxury that would’ve been shared. He no longer needed a knife to split the core in half. The juice tasted less sweet when there wasn’t sweet laughter accompanying it.

“Yikes, bad apple?” His grandfather laughed huskily in reaction to his dismay, crows feet and smile lines etched into his face. How was it that he could find happiness here where Link could not?

“Rough morning.”

“Ah. I see. Please… take a break if you need to” The old man clasped his hands, bony elbows rested on the table. It wasn’t hard to spot the concern in the deepset wrinkles of his grandfather’s face. Link found the strength to nod and move on for the moment.

The dull ache of his arms never faded as he worked. It was to be expected, forging something from an abstract nothing was not a task even the gods found simplistic. Monotonous, sure. There was a rhythm in each strike against the metal, a pattern to be found within the firings.

There was a finality like death in the quench of the blade.

The weight of his work and a life brought to an abrupt end.

And like a body, he decorated the corpse with wood, wrapping it in delicate cloth— a casket of its own.

Creation was not a task meant for mortals, he thinks. Though people often try to make it so, the hollow pain in his joints and sear of his muscles make it apparent. It strains him, though it is what fuels him. There is a sense of grief whenever he hands over a blade he slaved over— a mourning so powerful that no amount of rupees wish away.

It was in such a similar manner that he loved you. With such a sense of fullness and unconditionality, he did not stop to think of a world for which you were not in it. It is foolish of him to long for his childhood just because it was spent hand in hand with you. But he’d give anything to have colors be so bright again and for his smile to be so wide and genuine. It didn’t matter how bruised he’d be, so long as he gained those bruises running down riverbeds with you.

Now, he dressed up the body of those memories. Decorating you in his mind's eye with blue thistles, sprigs of rosemary, wild poppies and violets. Each aspect of him paying homage to their love of you. Of who he can only hope you continued to be.

The blade he held cracked when it was dipped into the water, split in twain. He looked at the jagged edge where the hilt was severed.

He could not find it within himself to remeld the pieces.

It would not be the same again.

He needed to move on.

He was close enough when adventuring with his brethren. There was enough fighting and adrenaline to keep his mind off his wounds. He let himself attach —maybe not in such a similar fashion as he did you— but in a way equally fulfilling.

What a fool he was.

How could he not notice the darkness creeping its way in? The abyss called for his return, sentencing him back to a cage he built. And so, he returned. Back to a life wherein he could reap no joy but couldn’t muster the strength to leave.

He wished he had his brothers. Time to help him forge a plan of escape from the mundane. Twilight to offer assistance in the smaller tasks— so he could manage life just a little bit easier. Sky to boss him into taking a break, even if it were just stretching. Legend to banter with as he worked, taking the weight off of the task. Wild to make use of the end product, to give the life of the blade meaning. Even just the careful eyes of Wind studying what he did. He missed how individual he felt, yet still holding his place among the set. He’d always have a home there, even if he was fundamentally different from his brethren.

He wished he still had a home with you.

You still had a home with him.

If only you’d return to him…

But life is not such a simple endeavour, and he doubts your parents would be content with you marrying some blacksmith, even if he held the title of hero. That was if you weren’t already forced to marry. That was if you still loved him.

He hopes whatever life you’ve been condemned to is happy.

Because if he is not there to protect you from the worst that fate has to offer, he can at least hope that there’s someone there who can.

Even though it isn’t him.

[subwaystanwich]

Our Secret

Hey guys! Here's the piece I was working on, that I showed the teaser of! I hope you enjoy my first piece of writing on this blog! Minors DNI!!! This is a mature piece.

WARNING: This piece contains sibling incest. If you have found this mistakenly, please move on for your comfort and safety. If you choose to read this piece you are consenting to being exposed to this content.

You can find the fic on ao3 or read it down below!

The unknown always appealed to Ford. It was mysterious, it was weird, it was perfect. So falling for his twin wasn't scary, it was something new to explore. Uncharted territory that he was ready to fling himself into. It was bizarre, it was something people would judge him for. But Ford was used to judgment, used to stares. He had his six fingers to thank for that.

But realistically, Ford knew that he wasn't the best choice for his brother. Stan deserved a happy ending, not to be constantly worried about people finding out about his relationship. So Ford should be happy about his twin's relationship, right? He should be over the moon.

But he wasn't.

Carla was stunning. Stan was always talking about how he couldn't believe someone as gorgeous as her would be interested in someone like him. Ford wanted to grab his brother and tell him of course she liked him! Stan was handsome, and had a magnetic personality. He was so lovable. 

But he was also fragile. And his fragility was all Ford could think about as he sat in his bed, watching Stan stare off into the distance. His eyes were rimmed with red, having spent the better part of the last hour crying.

“Hey Ford?”

Ford looked up and saw Stan looking at him, looking absolutely wrecked. It broke Ford’s heart just to look at him.

“Yes Stanley?” Ford responded.

“What’s wrong with me?” Stan asked softly.

Ford blinked, confused. “What?”

“I said, what's wrong with me? I'm such a screw up. I get bad grades, Pops hates me, and now Carla's gone. What'd I do to piss the world off?” Stan said, eyes flicking from Ford to the floor. “I'm pathetic.”

“No you’re not,” Ford said firmly. “You're not pathetic. Carla was a fool to leave someone like you.”

Stan let out a harsh laugh. “She found someone better. Someone who’s leagues better than me.”

“Thistle Downe is not leagues better than you. I’ve heard his music, and he’s the pathetic one if you ask me,” Ford said, and patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come here,” he said.

Stan stood up from their desk chair and slowly walked over to Ford, springs squeaking as he sat down. Ford took one of his brother's hands in his own and squeezed tightly. He looked up, and two locked eyes. Ford let go of Stan, and instead, cupped his brother’s face with his hands.

“You’re a bright light, Stanley. Don't let this burn you out.”

Stan's eyes welled with tears, and Ford wiped them away with his thumbs when they fell. He needed to help his brother, but nothing seemed to be working. What could he do? And then suddenly it came to him.

“Do you want to make Fort Stan?” Ford asked, hands dropping away. Stan let out a watery laugh.

“We haven't done that in forever,” Stan said, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Encouraged, Ford continued.

“We could build it and put pillows and blankets in there! And you can bring those magazines, and I'll bring my books!” Ford said excitedly.

“I also have a stash of snacks under my bed,” Stan said. “And not just toffee peanuts!”

“Ugh you better have something different over there,” Ford said with a shudder. “Those things are terrible.”

Stan laughed good naturedly and crossed the room, pulling out his magazines and food. Ford grabbed his top sheet off the bed, and the two began construction. Stan seemed cheerful, and Ford cheered internally. Comforting people was not his forte, but somehow this was working.

“Perfect!” Stan finally said with a grin. The tent was erected, and the two brought their items in. 

“Okay, so the only snacks I actually have are toffee peanuts and jelly beans. But--”

“Jelly beans?” Ford said, eyes wide. “I thought you hated jelly beans!”

“Eh,” Stan said shrugging, “I know they’re like, your one weakness, so I put some up here in case it looked you needed some. And now’s the perfect time!”

“You have them here for me?” Ford said, surprised.

“Well yeah,” Stan said with a smile. “Gotta have something for you.”

Ford smiled softly as Stan opened up one of his magazines. It was full of pictures of bikini clad women, and Stan kept showing Ford the most risque ones.

“Stop it!” Ford finally said with an eye roll. “I don’t want to see that!”

“Why?” Stan said, “You gay or something?”

The words were said casually, no malice or harshness at all. Stan was clearly just teasing, but Ford found he couldn’t speak. Gay. He knew that he’d only had a crush on one girl before, and he knew that he loved his twin more than natural…but he’d never thought to label his feelings before. But now that the words had left Stan’s lips, Ford realized there might be some truth to them.

“Sixer?” Stan said, looking up, concern on his face. “You okay?”

“Yes of course,” Ford said shakily. Stan frowned. Unlike Ford, Stan had always been good with emotions, good at figuring out how people were feeling.

“You don’t seem okay,” he said, setting his magazine aside and sitting up. He slid over towards Ford, who tensed up at the action. “Is it what I said? About being gay?”

“Why would it be that?” Ford said, voice unnaturally high.

“It’s okay if you are,” Stan said, putting his arm around Ford. “I kinda always knew.”

“What?!” Ford practically shouted, pulling away from his twin as though he’d been burned. “I’m…I’m not, you’ve got it wrong, I don’t—!”

“It’s okay Ford,” Stan said softly. “I promise, I’m not upset.”

Ford went quiet, staring at the ground. “Maybe…maybe I am,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stan said. “We can share secrets you know. I’ve got ‘em, you’ve got ‘em. We can tell each other!”

“Like what?” Ford asked Stan, giving him a side eye.

“Well,” Stan said, drawing out the word, “I…I’ve had crushes on guys before too.”

“Really?” Ford said, eyebrows shooting up. “Who?”

“You know Ezra Miller from Saturday school?” Stan asked. “I had a thing for him.”

“Wow,” Ford breathed. He had no idea! Stan said he’d always known that Ford was gay, but Stan? Ford would never have guessed in a million years!

“But you were with…you’ve dated girls,” Ford said, sounding confused.

“I guess I’m into both?” Stan said, looking thoughtful. “Also Robbie Milfred. He was always nice to me but I got over him pretty quick once he started hanging out with Crampelter. Ugh. So, who have you had crushes on?”

You’re the only one, Ford thought to himself. But there was no way he could say that out loud! Sure Stan said they could share secrets, but this? This was a secret that he couldn’t share no matter what.

“Nobody,” Ford said.

“That’s not true,” Stan said, scooting closer to Ford. “I know there’s someone.”

Ford gulped, eyes flicking up to meet Stan’s. His brother was looking at him, but the look in his eyes was different. He couldn’t place what was different about Stan, but something had changed. The air was different, and Ford’s heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“There’s really not,” Ford said, leaning back. But as he did so, Stan moved even closer. Their thighs were touching, and oh god their thighs were touching. Ford focused all his energy on keeping the blood in his head and not his…other head. There was no way he could get a hard on near his brother, and certainly not from something like that.

“I said we could share secrets,” Stan said, voice deep and layered, dripping with honey. “I meant it. Any secret you have, you can tell me. Want me to tell you another of mine?”

“Sure,” Ford said, hoping that whatever secret this was would get the subject to change.

“I want you,” Stan said, and placed a hand over Ford’s. “I always have.” Ford choked on air. “Stanley!” he said, shocked. “You can’t…”

“I can,” Stan said, touching foreheads with Ford. “And I know you like me too. Don’t pretend. I see how you look at me when I change in front of you.”

Ford’s breathing was heavy now, and he closed his eyes. This was a joke, surely. Stan would pull away at any moment, laughing at how gullible Ford was. They would both roll their eyes and get back to those stupid magazines. There was no way this was really happening.

“Stanley, we can’t…”

“Why not?” Stan said, hot breath on Ford’s face. “This fort is for secrets. I won’t tell anyone what happens in here if you don’t.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“I do,” Stan said, and Ford suddenly found his lips captured in a kiss. His eyes flew open, shocked. Stan was kissing him. Stan was kissing him. Ford found himself melting into it, soft sounds of lips on lips filling the air. He let Stan work his mouth open with his own, and soon their tongues were sliding slickly against each other. Ford let out a moan that he would normally be embarrassed by, but the groan that Stan answered with made all thoughts of shame leave his mind instantly.

Ford couldn’t believe this was really happening. Every fantasy he’d ever had, it was finally coming true. Stan gently pushed Ford down, their kisses growing feverish now, desperate. A match had been lit, and now the fire was spreading. Stan’s hands explored Ford’s sides, and Ford felt his pants growing tight. But it didn’t matter, because Stan was clearly suffering from the same condition. Ford could feel his boner pressing against him, and he longed to see it, to touch it.

Ford ran his fingers through Stan’s hair and instinctively tugged. Stan made a sound, a purely animalistic sound, and his hips jerked forward.

“Stanley!” Ford cried out. 

“Shhh,” Stan said, but his hips kept moving. “Don’t want Ma and Pops to hear.”

Oh god. Ma and Pops. If they knew that their children, their precious babies, were dry humping the shit out of each other…there would be hell to pay. Ford could practically see his Pops’ face growing red with anger, and his Ma letting out choked sobs.

But he didn’t have time to contemplate this more, as Stan latched onto him, where his shoulder met his neck, and began to suck and bite.

“St-stan…” Ford moaned, trying to keep quiet.

“Yeah?” Stan said, hips moving faster. Ford felt himself moving in time, both of them chasing their own pleasure. Soon, fireworks exploded before Ford’s eyes, and he had to shove his knuckles into his mouth to prevent himself from screaming out his twin’s name. Stan followed soon after, and kissed him one last time, softly. He gently rolled off, and pulled Ford close.

“We should probably clean up,” Ford murmured. 

“Later,” Stan said, and Ford nodded. But he couldn’t help but think…everything is different now.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Tactus Mortis | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | llegando⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A heavy sigh left your mouth as you exited your little shop, hands aching from separating and unraveling all of the thistles of sage Isabela was so kind to grow for you.

Though tired, you felt yourself grow relaxed from the peaceful atmosphere around you; the colors of fire hearths and mandarins, extending far along the sky cloaked you in an orange-gold light as the sun set below the horizon.

Halfway home, you spot a hunched-over figure in the near distance. The closer you got to the field, the more you were able to make out a familiar yellow ruana. "Is...Is that Camilo?"

Now, you had half a mind to ignore him due to being utterly exhausted from having to spend an entire day surrounded by his presence, but you couldn't help the burning curiosity growing in your mind, wondering what he was up to.

Coming to a complete stop behind Camilo's crouched form, you could only watch as he carefully dug a hole in the ground.

Unable to stand there another second, you cleared your throat to catch the auburnet's attention.

Camilo froze at the sound before letting a deep groan leave his mouth, "Mirabel, I already told you that I'll be home before dinner. Now leave me aloneᅳ" a strangled choke left his mouth, eyes widening once he turned around and saw that it was you, instead of his cousin.

Seeing that you were eyeing the hole behind him, Camilo awkwardly kicked the bundle of flowers to the back before giving you a shaky smile, "H-Hey, ____. What are you doing out here?"

"I could be asking you the same, Madrigal. So what are you doing out here? It's almost night," you said, gesturing towards the darkening sky.

"Nothing."

"That"ᅳyou made a show of leaning over to point at the pile of plants behind himᅳ"doesn't look like nothing," you said, eyes narrowing a bit as you took in the violet petals.

Why does that look so familarᅳ

"I-It's really nothing," Camilo stuttered, moving over to block your vision. "I just thought it'd do me some good to go out and get some fresh air."

"Then why are you digging a hole in the ground?"

"Because it's...therapeutic?"

When he saw your face, Camilo rose his hands up in defeat. "Fine, you caught me. I'm not out here to get some air, I'm actually here to plant a few flowers in honor of Isabela being such a kind soul and showing me how beautiful nature is."

"What good is that? Isabela can grow thousands of flowers in a second if she chose to. It's her gift, remember?"

Camilo's face fell at your words as if just realizing how right you were.

Before you could open your mouth to take another jab at his obvious lies, Camilo beat you to it.

"You know what, ____? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like me with how much you seem to worry about what I'm up to."

With widened eyes and a burning face, you felt your mind fizzle into molten lava of misery. "Like you!?" You screeched in horror, taking a step back from his cackling form. "I could never! I don't even know why I bothered coming over here." And with an angry huff, you stomped away.

☆

☆

Camilo could only watch as you stormed off, a wave of relief washing over him; he had been on edge the entire day, and seeing you walk up to him in the field had made him even more nervous. He had hoped that you wouldn't notice the flowers he was planting, but of course, you had.

Glancing over at the bundle of violet flowers, Camilo let out a deep breath. "That was close."

☆

☆

Even as you found yourself on the porch of your house, you still felt yourself brimming with frustration. "I can't believe he said that...I would never! I have standards..." you muttered under your breath as opened the door.

The second you walked inside, the faint scent of food entered your nose, immediately throwing you off of the course of your thoughts.

Pushing everything to the back of your mind, you quickly shed your cloak, excited to eat your father's cooking.

"Oh, wow," you awed, eyes practically shining as you saw the spread of food on the dining table.

Light steam hovered over the bowl and plates of food, bringing with it a blast of mouthwatering aroma.

Just as you were about to reach down and grab a bit to snack on, your father's voice echoed all around.

"Aht, aht, aht! Not so fast. Go wash your hands before digging in," he lightly scolded, setting two bowls of ceviche de camarones on the table.

Not even bothering to stay behind and whine, you raced to get ready, arriving just in time for your father to bring out a few more dishes.

But even as you filled your entire plate with food, you couldn't help the pout that found itself on your lips as you thought of Camillo's weird behavior.

It was unlike him to act so jittery and suspicious, and you couldn't help but wonder if the trickster was up to something.

As you mull over the possibilities, lost in thought, your father couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your concentrated expression, your cheeks bulging with food like an angry chipmunk. "What seems to be bothering you, my muñequita?" he asked, using the affectionate nickname he had given you as a child; his voice was gentle and kind, and it was clear that he genuinely wanted to know what was troubling you.

You blinked owlishly at him while swallowing your food. At first, you thought about lying, but the warm and encouraging look he was giving you pushed you to spill the truth. "Camilo was acting weird today," you started, putting down your fork and leaning back in your chair. "I saw him in a field, digging a hole and planting flowers. When I asked him about it, he just stuttered and said it was therapeutic. But it was so strange. I don't know why he would do something like that."

Your father listened patiently, a small smile on his face as he watched you talk. When you finished, he chuckled and teased you, "Sounds like Camilo likes you."

Your face burned with embarrassment and you quickly denied it, "No way! Camilo is just...Camilo. He's always doing weird things like that. It's probably just some prank or joke."

Your father apologized, still laughing a little, and gave you some serious advice, "Well, maybe there's something going on that he's not ready to talk about yet. It's important to give people space and time when they need it. Either way, you'll figure out what to do, muñequita. You always do."

Later that night, as you got ready for bed, a cool breeze blew through your window, brushing against your face, and carrying with it a sweet, floral scent that made you pause.

You took a deep breath, trying to identify the fragrance, but it was oddly familiar, yet you couldn't quite place it.

The second lungful of air left you feeling uneasy, as a sort of fog crept over your mind, causing your head to spin for just a few seconds. You shook your head, thinking that it was just lingering stress from passing assignments, and shrugged the uncomfortable sensation off.

As you closed the window, the sweet scent lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but allow your thoughts to drift off to Camilo and his strange behavior earlier that day.

You wondered if he was somehow involved in this or if it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Shaking your head, you tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on getting some rest. You climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up to your chin, and closed your eyes.

But as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that something was wrong. It was as if a dark cloud had settled over you, casting a shadow on your otherwise peaceful night.

You tossed and turned, your mind racing with unanswered questions and a growing sense of unease.

[eywaseclipse]

FAQ

🌱Welcome! I’m Mari. My pronouns are she/her. I’ve been a fan of the incredible Avatar universe since I was 12.

🌱I’m a 27 year old artist (and budding writer if I say so myself)

🌱I don’t want any minors on my blog

🍃Now let’s get to the good stuff🍃

🍃Small PSA: this blog was on hiatus from June 2023- January 2024 all activities were on pause

Who Do I Write For?:✅

Jake

Tonowari

So’lek

Teylan

Tsu’tey

What Do I Write?: ✅

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Breeding kinks

Age gaps (usually no bigger than 10 years)

General action/ violence

✨My favorite trope of all time is enemies to lovers which I utilize a lot in my works

✨Not to mention a delicious slow burn

What Don’t I Write?: 🛑

Dubious consent

Somnophilia

Violence used in sexual acts

Degradation play

CNC

Stepcest/ incest

Non-canon sexual orientation for characters (this does not include threesomes)

Smut for minors

Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Spider are children and I will not write explicit material for them

‼️All previous work including smut has been erased due to serious reconsideration of the questionable discourse around alien culture and age differences on Pandora

I am not comfortable justifying this furthermore and the lines are far too blurred. When I first made the blog I was under the impression that Neteyam and Lo’ak were 18-19, and without proper research, I decided to be influenced by “yes man” people. Since the information about them was not either officially released, or canon I felt this was okay. I also believe a lot of us seemed to have this collective delusion that alien ages were different because of them being on Pandora, or that they’re similar to animal-like years etc. So I take accountability there. I would’ve deleted my works much sooner but I was on a 7 month hiatus with my app deleted. I could not justify it anymore. Please respect my decisions. It is wrong.

There will be no aging up the characters for smut as well. This blog will not be a safe space to fans who abuse and disrespect indigenous cultures and exploit underage characters. You are not welcome here.

Let’s spread kindness, creativity, world building and new ideas.

🪐Bonus🪐

Who is My OC? :

🌱Name: Tani te Ol’ul Peyral’ite

🌱Daughter of the mighty hunter Peyral and Taktu te Omi (character I made up)

🌱Clan: Omatikaya

🌱Age: 20’s

🌱Height: 8’8” she’s one of the tallest female na’vi for her age group

🌱Ikran: She tamed a beautiful indigo almost black female Ikran with scatters of bright bioluminescent spots named Oare which means Moon in Na’vi

(pronounced Oh-R-Ay with rolled ‘r’)

🌱Special Skills: Archery, Ikran flying, weaving and craftsmanship, spear fishing, and hand to hand combat thanks to Jake Sully’s informative combat lessons

🌱Her Favorite Food: minced hexapede meat with rice and vegetables stuffed in a smoked hand wrapped banana leaf, Dawn Fruit for its sour tangy flavor, bladder polyps for the saltiness, thistle bud for snacking

✨Trivia✨

🌱Tani was a young child when the battle of the Hallelujah Mountains took place so she stayed back with her grandmother and other children while the elders looked after them. She had an older sister named Zetey the same age as Neytiri who was killed in battle and regularly talks to her at the spirit tree

🌱Experiencing war at such a young age significantly changed her and the way she acts, many elders in the clan commend her for her stoic attitude and maturity.

🌱She leads a very hectic lifestyle serving as one of the high ranking warriors in the clan under Jake’s leadership alongside her parents

🌱She secretly wishes for a quiet life and large family dabbling into healing work and weaving goods for the clan

🌱She has an even temper and is not usually tempted to lash out, she’s very calculated and cunning

🌱Every hunting festival she makes new garments usually showcasing a significant event that occurred before the big hunt

🌱She has a large collection of beads and rocks she’s received from both Tuk and Lo’ak she keeps in a special bowl by her bedside at all times

🌱After joining union with Jake she collected a rock from the river where they had a heart to heart and strung it onto her songcord

🌱She has a soft spot for Lo’ak being the younger sibling herself and often defends him and tries to get Jake to soften his attitude

🌱She ends up having 2 more babies with Jake, a boy, and another girl

🌱She and Ronal end up becoming great friends and their babies have many play dates together

🌱Tani and Jake have matching Metkayina tattoos on their shoulders

[burning-thistles-bt]

beep boop lookie what i did again :)

this one follows Thistleclaw and Fireheart’s relationships with some good ol’ spoilers in the mix ;)

[ratsoh-writes]

What activates the purrs and hisses for these new boys?

Thistle: oh gosh, just let him be the big spoon in bed or on the couch and you’ll hear his deep motor running! His purr is so low it almost sounds like a growl.

He hisses when he gets hiccups. He hates having hiccups. Oh and he hisses when his parents start getting a bit too affectionate in his presence lol

Yarrow: he purrs if you scratch the back of his head. He fkn loves that. Or when he finds a particularly pretty new spot in the underground

He hisses and growls when he breaks anything, messes up a decoration or craft, or burns food. He gets very frustrated if he messes up anything he’s trying to make

[doritopaw101]

I’m obsessed with Thistleclaw being Sunstar’s son. Honestly Poppydawn could still be his mom but irrelevant.

Just the angst potential with Thistle and Blue with that background.

It’s just tasteful and interesting to me

These two cats who are close with Sunstar fighting for the spot below him and falling as a result.

No matter who he chose, someone was gonna get burned.

[extinct-fish]

Daily Unhinged Writing

Today's nominee: Vex

Context: the crew had landed on Tarata, which is in the Nocenti-4 star system. There, they spot a tree with glowing sap, and chaos ensues.

The crew opened the landing bay and stepped out onto the strange planet. Before them, the blue flora looked like grass, yet had the feel of those thistle leaves. The trees had dark-navy bark with a light-blue glowing sap flowing between the crevices. This made the woodlands, in which the ship landed, smell quite sweet. “Oh god, this smells so good!” Lynx salivated. “Man, this would make great candles!” Pandora agreed. “Or gum, you can make sap gum,” Hamal shrugged. “You’ve tried it before?” “I’ve had Peach sap. And pine sap. Quite a bit lacking when it comes to taste, but good for chewing.” “Weirdo.” “Hey- the Natives did it first!” “I knew you were a redneck,” Dione commented, “but I didn’t know you were that much of a redneck.” “Rednecks don’t do native stuff, I’ve just so happen to have known a couple of people who have had sap gum, okay?” “Oh really? I dare you to lick it.” “I’m not licking it.” “Do not lick the unidentified sap,” Dr. Pent sighed. “¥2,960.25, you won’t do it,” Rigel joked. “Viza, what is ¥2960.25 in USD?” “¥2960.25 is $20 USD.” “Fuck you,” Hamal sighed, “$20 is $20.” Hamal then went and licked the glowing sap, the liquid sticking to his tongue. Hamal felt like he had just eaten a jalapeño, so much so he started fanning his tongue with his hands to cool it down. The crew laughed a bit at the reaction, which gained a glare from Hamal. “Thfuck you, Rigel!” Hamal shouted. Once the spicy sensation went away, Hamal gave Rigel a punch to his arm, which prompted a laugh from the mischievous navigator. “Well, at least we know that it’s spicy,” Dr. Pent sighed, “Viza, what is the weird sap?” “The sap found upon the Veriluma Pine is Verilume sap, composed of most elements similarly found in saps from earth. However, unlike the sap of earth, Verilume sap contains luciferin and luciferase, both natural components found to cause bioluminescence. It is also found to have capsaicin, which is a known component of chili peppers, which is a potent irritant and produces a burning sensation. The Scoville Scale of Verilume sap is approximately between 5,000 and 8,500SHU.” “Heh, that’s nothing!” Lynx scoffed proudly, “We eat jalapeños like it’s water!” “That doesn’t make sense, Lynx,” Hamal sighed. “Look, jalapeños are not that bad!” “Too spicy for me.” “Anything above salt and pepper is too spicy for you, anyways.” “I will somehow import wasabi from earth and shove it down your throat.” Lynx merely laughed at his threat.

“He may threaten that, but just so you know, Wasabi isn’t actually spicy, but it still holds a punch,” Rigel added. “Jeez, you kids are so weird,” Dr. Pent sighed. “And you were the one to agree to go,” Lynx retorted playfully. “Alright, you kindergarteners, eyes back here! Let’s get going.” “Right,” Hamal realized. The team walked in the woodlands, some of the members discussing what possible uses Verilume sap could be used for. While it was generally agreed that Verilume sap could be either paint or glowing hot sauce, someone suggested lube, which made Dione wince and shout: “Are you kidding?! That Hot Sauce Sap is NOT a good lube!” The sentence made Dr. Pent sigh as Pandora and Hamal were both weirded out by the loud statement.

[aria-raven]

OC-tober, Day 4: Frost

Today we have Avery, accompanied by Misty, as always. When it comes to plants and fantasy, I like to use both real plants and fictional ones. @apromptingwewillgo

Her breath hung in the air in front of her, and the grass crunched under her feet. Behind her, she could hear Misty quietly padding along. The last few leaves on the trees were tipped with white. Avery rubbed her hands together for warmth. They weren’t staying for long. Just until they could find what they needed. After that, it was back to the house. She might have waited until it was a bit warmer, but the sooner they finished making this potion, the better.

“Remember, we’re looking for thistles, moss, and viper’s teeth,” she told her companion. 

Misty blinked once. To anyone else, it would have been a completely normal gesture. But Avery knew this was her way of saying she understood. With both of them searching, they would surely find everything they needed. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find the thistles. They were growing in a bunch near the edge of the woods. Avery knelt down and carefully gripped them as close to the roots as possible. They were stiff with frost. She was even more thankful for her gloves. Being in the cold was bad enough, at least she didn’t have to handle prickly plants with bare hands.

With one sharp move, she yanked them out of the ground. An earthy smell filled her nose. Carefully storing them in her basket, she stood up and declared “Alright, that’s one thing.”

The woods were quiet, only the occasional sound of a bird chirping or a tiny animal in the distance scurrying away. Avery walked carefully, scanning the ground. She spotted a bit of moss growing on a rock. As she picked it up, she could hear soft crackles of ice particles. There was dirt on her gloves. Just one more item, and they could go back. Her fingers were growing stiff, and her ears were burning with cold. She glanced down at Misty and commented “You’re lucky, you know. On days like this, I wish I was covered with fur.”

Viper’s teeth, the last thing she needed, was named so for the oddly shaped leaves on its stem. They curved downwards and were pointed at the ends, resembling snake fangs. Despite their odd appearance, they were a perfectly harmless plant. And they were useful for some things, including the potion Avery needed to make. However, finding them wasn’t always easy. They were small and easily hidden among any other plants growing nearby.

Avery slowed down further, keeping her eyes downward. There weren’t many other plants growing in this part of the woods. It was mostly just grass. She just had to look for those strange leaves. Misty gently poked through the grass with her nose, until she abruptly stopped and gave a short, quick bark. Nearly stumbling, Avery rushed over to where she was and found a bunch of them hidden near a tree. Their leaves were tipped with white. She quickly pulled them up. “Thank you,” she told Misty. “It might have taken me forever to find them.”

Finally they could get out of the cold and start working on this potion. After that, she intended to spend as much of the day inside as possible.

[maesook]

""Weirdness, that weirdness that boils incessantly in the void of the black spot, in the void of the water droplet. The feeling of piercing, the feeling of weight and the voice that cannot be heard, even though it screams. The pain that encompasses every particle of the droplet. All the thorns that forcefully enter the white petals, while the thistles fall unseen.

A never-ending feeling, one that cannot be described or stopped. The feeling that persists and haunts you relentlessly, bringing you weight and pain. What pushes you into the dark depths and leaves you without the wind that comes and goes, or at least used to.

So a day passes, maybe two, possibly a week. You can't know the end. And yet, you hope minute by minute, hour by hour, that maybe there's a chance to blend among the colors of the sky.

It all starts at 6 o'clock, the time you wake up and feel like you want to pull your brains out because of the headache. Of course, my idea of ​​going to bed at 1 o'clock wasn't too inspired either. My desire to finish the book I started the same day was great, too great. I knew I had a literature test as well, my luck being that I'm a nerd and a future one, besides the fact that romance novels are my top priority. I knew I didn't have to study anymore, so I ended up with that book in my hand. The moment I started swallowing all the paragraphs where sweet and burning touches were described. The touches of the male character, bad, who touched the innocent girl, only if you knew her at first sight."""

[mrpristineblade]

A'ight. Let's think of some on the spot

Damsel: Daisy (favorite fictional princess, babyyyy)

Prisoner: Pax (pre-transition), Liber (post-transition)

Witch: Wish

Beast: Queen

Tower: Titania

Adversary: Vera

Nightmare: Nix

Spectre: Sierra (ey, almost the same one lol)

Razor: Raquelle

Stranger: Nell (Neutral), Heather (Harsh), Sofia (Soft), Eloise (Emo), Monica (Monster)

Burned Grey: Belle

Drowned Grey: Grace

Thorn: Thistle

Den: Den, maybe Denise

Apotheosis: Apeira ("apeiro" is the ancient greek word for infinity)

Eye Of The Needle: Dracona

Moment of Clarity: Clarity :), Claire for short

Wraith: Aiden (classic enby name for the enby headcanon~)

Fury: Fay

Wild: Willow (decided to use this name for her instead lol)

I've seen a lot of people give names for the Voices, and as a Vessel enjoyer, I decided to give my names for them, too!

Damsel: Danielle

Prisoner: Priscilla (Pris for short)

Witch: Willow

Beast: Beatrice (Bea for short)

Tower: Diane (my thought process was basically "goddess, divine, Diana, Diane" for this one)

Adversary: Addison (Addy for short)

Nightmare: Natalie (Nat for short)

Spectre: Sienna

Razor: Zora

Stranger: Stace (gender-neutral name for a they/them princess!)

Burned Grey: Bernice

Drowned Grey: Drusilla

Thorn: Therese

Den: Demi

Apotheosis: Aphrodite (keeping with the goddess theme)

Eye of the Needle: Iris

Moment of Clarity: Clara

Wraith: Winifred (her whole vibe kinda speaks to her having an old-fashioned name, in my opinion)

Fury: Fiona (though I've also considered Alecto)

Wild: Wihelmina