#children of abuse learn to love each other and themselves

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

[crystallizedtwilight]

Nightmare Before Christmas AU Overview:

🎃🦇🍂

OVERVIEW: This AU follows the events of the movie The Nightmare Before Christmas. Taking place a few years in the future, it focuses on the adventures of Lock, Shock, and Barrel as young adults. The trio has since been welcomed into the town by Pumpkin King and Queen Jack and Sally, though they still live happily in their treehouse on the outskirts. They enjoy life under their own command, free from the now-deceased Oogie Boogie, causing mischief and pulling pranks on the good folk of Halloween Town. Throughout their continued adventures together they discover that growing means learning about themselves, each other, and dealing with change. But one thing remains constant—they'll always be birds of a feather, now and forever.

BACKSTORIES: The trio came to Halloween Town under unfortunate circumstances. Each of their families had lived in the human world, as many monsters do, either nomadically, elusively in the wilderness, or by masquerading. The trio were all born in different parts of the the world during the height of monster hunting. They were three fortunate cases who were found by other monsters and taken to Halloween Town as orphans.

Once in Halloween Town, the trio often ditched school, feeling they weren’t as accepted as the local kids, and deliberately caused trouble which earned them a bad reputation. The three bonded over a love of mischief and the feeling of being outcasts, so when Oogie offered them a life free of rules, they were easily convinced to leave the town entirely to become his henchmen.

Unbeknownst to them, the reason monster hunting took place during that time was because Oogie was rampantly devouring human children. Essentially, they were orphaned because their boss had given humans in several towns desperate cause to hunt the supernatural.

They would not come to learn this until after Boogie’s death. They grew up resenting humans for orphaning them and were horrified to learn that they'd worked for the monster who forced humans to defend themselves as well as let their parents take the fall. Nowadays, they choose to give the human world a chance by regularly traveling all over the world.

LOCK:

Lock is an imp, which is a type of devil. He has nocturnal vision, speed, and a natural desire to climb to very high places. He can often be found on the roof of the treehouse or up a tree when he needs to think. In the human world, imps are stealth hunters in deep forests, preying on deer and other local fauna. However, Lock has a diet of junk food and candy since he was raised without these hunting skills in Halloween Town.

Imps are naturally solitary creatures and dislike group settings, so no imp has ever come through Halloween Town. This, unfortunately, gave Lock a subconscious sense of loneliness and doubt. This is why he tries the hardest to keep the trio together by rejecting any change, which at one point resulted in a huge argument with Shock when she wanted to start attending coven studies a few days a week.

Of the three, Oogie’s abuse rooted itself mostly deeply within him, as Oogie played into the “who else would want you” angle Lock already felt as the only imp in town. He often overcompensates for his insecurities with arrogance and acts childishly, selfishly, and even meanly at times. However, under it all, he has a good heart and just wants to know that his friends aren’t going to leave him.

Lock and Shock are rivals who motivate each other, constantly bickering over which one of them is actually the leader of the trio. At the end of the day, they respect each other's skills and would do anything to keep their friend safe, but you'll never hear them say that.

Eventually, Lock begins a casual fwb relationship with Barrel, under the terms "as long as it doesn’t change anything”—worried that if they labeled themselves and it went sour, he could lose his friend. Barrel, who had always been in love with him, happily agreed to these terms. However, despite insisting that they were only friends, Lock finds himself extremely jealous when another ghoul, Belladonna, takes an interest in Barrel.

Lock is overwhelmed to realize that he actually does have feelings for Barrel but has likely missed his chance with him by insisting they weren't together, and Belladonna is probably better for him anyway. In an emotional confrontation where Lock accidentally scars Barrel’s arm with a bite, the two finally confess their true feelings.

SHOCK:

Shock is a witch, which is a type of magical entity. Of the three, she is the most confident and intelligent. Most witches will start coven studies at a young age to learn how to harness their magic, however, growing up under Oogie, she was discouraged from doing so. After Oogie’s demise Shock found herself determined to pursue her dreams of magic. Unlike how it had affected Lock, Oogie’s vicious words of “you’re not good enough” were only fuel to her fire, and she took all that anger and turned in into passion for her studies. 

She demanded that Halloween Town’s coven mentor her, even though she was older than the typical witch who was just starting her studies. The coven saw her passion and agreed. The studying has three phases: master flying, master potions, and master hexes, and one cannot be learned until the previous is mastered. The process takes years but Shock is currently deep in her potions phase and can often be found nose-deep in a book or foraging for herbs. Mastering hexes is her dream and she is eagerly chasing it.

One night, while out for a flight, Shock encounters a banshee crying in the moonlight. Shock learns that her name is Calliope and the human family’s line that she watched over had comes to an end. Shock instantly feels drawn to her and they quickly become friends. Shock secretly makes it her mission help Calliope feel happy again. Eventually, the two develop romantic feelings for each other as well.

BARREL:

Barrel is a ghoul, which is a type of demon that feasts on the flesh of cold, buried humans. Like Lock, Barrel was raised on junk food and candy in Halloween Town so that’s the diet he prefers today. Ghouls are naturally nomadic due to their diet, needing to find different graveyards to dig in to avoid being caught. However, many ghoul packs often breeze through Halloween Town for events, and are genuinely regarded fondly by the locals since they’re always polite and up for a fun time.

Of the three, Barrel is the most easygoing. He wants to hang out with his friends more than he wants to prank people, but is always up for fun nonetheless. He also keeps scorpions as pets. Regarding Oogie, Barrel walked away the least scathed because Shock and Lock intentionally took the brunt of his anger to protect him since he was the youngest. This left Barrel with a sense of guilt for not being strong enough to protect his friends back then. However he’s worked through that by deciding he would never let either of them be hurt again now that he could hold his own.

Barrel always had a crush on Lock since the moment he met him. The feeling was not mutual, and it wasn’t until Barrel kissed him much later in life that Lock even entertained the idea. Despite this, Barrel continues to love him timelessly and patiently, despite Lock still having a lot to work through and trouble recognizing his own feelings.

CALLIOPE:

Calliope is a banshee, which is a type of fairy that heralds death. She is sweet-natured and very new to the ways of Halloween Town, having grown up in the human world. She loves dogs since, like her, they also warn humans of danger. She has taken a liking to Zero in particular.

Calliope develops feelings for Shock who not only helped her feel at home in Halloween Town, but also helped her find her happiness when she never thought she'd smile again. Nowadays, Calliope is happier than ever before.

BELLADONNA:

Belladonna is a ghoul who lives in the human world with a pack of other ghouls. They masquerade as a human band/roadies, live nomadically, and actually put on some good concerts. Ghouls don’t kill or cause any harm to humans (they love their audiences!) but they do eat corpses by raiding graves at night. They breeze through Halloween Town once or twice a year for big events.

Belladonna is instantly attracted to Barrel when they meet at one of Halloween Town's formal parties. She is fun, good-natured, and helps Barrel learn about what his kind is up to in the human world.

JACK:

Jack still reigns as Pumpkin King, alongside Sally whom he recently wed. Regarding the trio, Jack feels guilt for overlooking them when they were children. Jack had a no-kill policy when it came to humans and Oogie Boogie did not—due to this conflict, Jack banished Oogie to the outskirts, and he is the reason the town has a guarded gate.

Jack was especially bitter about this rivalry, since he used to be friends with Oogie, and declared that Oogie would never be allowed into town again. Moreover, anyone associated with Oogie needed a by-name invitation from Jack himself before they’d be allowed into town. Even though the trio were just children at that time, Jack declared there would be no exceptions, and ignored the fact that the trio were actually in real danger with Oogie, which he found easy to overlook since they were so ill-behaved and rude to him.

At the end of the movie the trio have a change of heart and warn the townsfolk that Jack, Sally, and Sandy are trapped in Oogie's lair. Even though Jack was able to defeat Oogie before needing the town's assistance, this helped him see that the trio are actually good kids and he was wrong to ignore their circumstances for so long.

Nowadays, Jack tries very hard to make up for his mistake. He has declared that they are welcome inside the town, removed the gate, and regularly defends them when they prank the townsfolk (and Jack himself). Sometimes, Jack tries too hard, requiring their attendance at Town celebrations which the trio roll their eyes at. They regard Jack as a nerd, but know he is well-meaning. The mayor still dislikes them, but trusts Jack’s judgement.

SALLY:

Sally, now Pumpkin Queen, gets along quite well with the trio. Because she is so clever, she’s the only person in town they’ve never managed to prank, and she even managed to prank them once. Though Queen is her title, sewing is her passion and she happily has taken up the job as town seamstress, eagerly designing clothes for all the wonderful shapes that call Halloween Town home, trio included.

Shock actually enjoys Sally’s company and thinks of her like an older sister, even confiding in or asking her for advice at times. Lock is still a bit skeptical and cold with her since he is forever done with authority figures, though Sally finds him funny. Barrel likes Sally just fine, and really enjoys how soft and comfortable she makes all his clothes.

OTHER KIDS:

Growing up, the trio didn’t like the inner-town kids (Corpse Kid, Mummy Boy, and Winged Demon, as they’re referred to in the movie). The trio saw them as “goody-two-shoes” who grew up nice and cushy inside the town gate, happy to follow Jack’s ever order, and going home to loving families every night. However, the inner-town trio prove to not actually be so bad and take earnest steps to make the trio feel welcome in town after Oogie’s demise.

MISC FACTS: ▪️ The trio regularly utilize the towns tomb portals to travel all over the human world. They're particularly interested in celebrations or festivals that are similar to Halloween. They're technically not supposed to interact with human festivities so openly, as fear of the unknown gives monsters more mystery and therefore more fright factors on Halloween, but Sally knows they do so and keeps their secret: [1] [2] [3] [4]

▪️ They upgraded their treehouse to be more spacious: [1] [2] [3]

▪️ They gave each other piercings to signify them being friends forever

▪️ The three of them were brought to Halloween Town just days apart. They were then named as a unit after the merism. However, they did have other names before they arrived, though they no longer want to use them.

▪️ None of them know how old or when their birthdays are. They mark time in a very general sense by how many Halloweens it feels like they've had together.

▪️ This AU began as sketches in 2018 and I posted my first art of them publicly in 2020. I was inspired by the Photo Booth pin. I thought it would be fun if the trio took pictures in the more modern sense, capturing their shenanigans with selfies and documenting their mischief, which is why the first couple drawings are framed that way.

The second thing that inspired me was the screenshot of Oogie saying he’ll decide which of the trio to eat when they displease him, and the general theory that the masks in the treehouse are from previous victims whom he had eaten. I thought since Jack destroys Oogie at the end of the movie, maybe the trio gets the chance to grow up, hence an AU about their happy, older years.

ART TAGS:

🎃 Entire Nightmare Before Christmas Tag

💘 Lock/Barrel Tag

🩵 Calliope Tag

💚 Belladonna Tag

🤩 Fan Art of My AU Tag (THANK YOU!!)

INSTAGRAM:

best_trickortreaters

[vasilissadragomir]

one of the most heart-wrenching things about thg universe is that you feel the loss of who each character would be outside the circumstances of their birth almost as acutely as you feel the loss of the characters themselves.

sure, we know what lucy gray and her family would be doing in a different world; she’d be dancing and singing and making music which defines a cultural identity. but what about the others? would haymitch have been a hilarious, loving father with a family had he not been forced to survive 47 other children’s brutal deaths? would finnick have been a charismatic and beloved actor, bringing joy to immeasurable people on his own terms? would beetee and wiress have worked together to develop technology to make it easier to connect loved ones far and wide? what would reaper and annie have given to the world, or thresh, or rue, or even coral or cato or glimmer or clove?

if katniss wasn’t half-starving and forced to spend each day hunting to feed her family, would archery be her true passion? or if she’d been a well-sustained little girl with access to art supplies, would she have spent her time sketching captivating dresses? she picks up ropes and making fish hooks quickly—could her dexterity have lent itself to knitting, sewing, or crocheting with vibrant yarns and fabrics? there’s so much evidence that katniss finds clothing inspiring and empowering, even when she dismisses it as frivolous. she likes being pretty, she just hates the circumstances under which she’s made to look pretty. cinna shows her that beauty has its own power, and there are several moments in her interactions with cinna and his designs that make me wonder who she’d be if she had space for art and creativity in her life.

conversely, peeta has had art in his life since he was a small child, but for him, art has always been entangled with his trauma. he could bake and decorate well because he learned from his mother, a mother who beat him his whole life. but his talent grows, not only as a survival tool in the first games, but when he paints rue on the floor of the training center before the second games. his art becomes not only a symbol of his trauma, but a means of resistance and solidarity. in a world where peeta’s intrinsic kindness and loving heart had been nurtured and welcomed rather than abused, could he have been a painter, helping people find collective meaning in the simple realities of life?

could katniss and peeta have still found each other in another world, a world without the horrors they were raised with, and bonded over their love of art? could they have been each other’s muses?

maybe they find their way to share art, after the events of mockingjay, as part of their process of healing and falling in love with each other. when they’re finally safe and have been for a long time, maybe katniss fashions peeta an easel for him to paint in their living room. after months of watching him gaze out the window and paint the changing leaves, katniss takes to knitting on a rocking chair in the other corner of the living room to steady her restless hands. they work silently as the days go by, quietly exchanging the things they’ve made to give each other the reassurance and love neither could ever fully convey with words.

and maybe one day, when they learn there’s a baby on the way due in midwinter, katniss takes a page from peeta’s sketchpad and starts to plan a series of sweaters and hats and socks she can knit for the baby. and peeta goes to the little nursery upstairs and starts working on a mural, so the baby will have something beautiful to look at every day. they work together to design the perfect baby blanket for their child, to ensure they will always be wrapped in a layer of protection and love by their parents.

but even if they find creativity and beauty in their lives after the end of mockingjay, the art they make will simply never be what that art could have been had they not faced what they faced. art comes from suffering, yes, but the human condition has so much suffering as is, and we’d never know what kind of art they’d make if they hadn’t experienced trauma of a distinctly sadistic and inhuman nature. but maybe their children, raised in a better world with love and protection and safety and joy and creativity and expression, will be the ones to create the art peeta and katniss never could.

[antianakin]

It's really sad that the Jedi Apprentice series and its impact on Obi-Wan's character in fandom is reduced to a combination of: uwu sad Obi-Wan with trauma, Qui-Gon is an abuser, or "this is how Obi-Wan learned to shoot a gun/fight a war."

When there's honestly SO MUCH you can do with Jedi Apprentice and its impact on Obi-Wan that goes way deeper than that and really takes the themes and messages of the story into account. Like all the lessons about attachment and how Obi-Wan was so caught up in wanting to be a Jedi Knight that he couldn't conceive of any other future for himself and saw everything else as inferior and the fear of the uncertainty in his life if he couldn't be a Jedi Knight consumes him to the point of hindering his relationship with Qui-Gon and his understanding of what it means to be a Jedi at all. Obi-Wan learns to understand what being a Jedi is all about because he makes a mistake that ultimately has a lot of unintended consequences that he can't really undo, either by himself or at all. Obi-Wan has to learn to take responsibility for his own choices and accept that life is often uncertain before he can truly be a Jedi. This is what makes Obi-Wan such a GOOD Jedi later on. This is why he can connect so well to Anakin even, because he's felt many of the same fears that Anakin would be struggling with upon joining the Order.

You can look at the impact of different kinds of friendships Obi-Wan makes within his first few missions, from a fellow slave to Service Corps members to the children of Melida/Daan. They're all from very different walks of life and have radically different personalities and agendas, and Obi-Wan learns things from all of them that he takes with him. And none of them are romantic! Because he doesn't NEED a romantic love interest to be interesting or relatable or a foil for Anakin.

And his relationship with Qui-Gon is so interesting because the two of them are suffering from many of the same issues and have to grow through them together. They both see themselves as failures due to the actions of others (Bruck's bullying and the rejection of the other masters for Obi-Wan, and Xanatos's betrayal for Qui-Gon) and only by learning to see each other for who they are rather than the symbols of their regrets and fears are they able to truly connect to each other and move forward in their relationship. It's honestly really beautiful! They are neither of them perfect in their handling of their relationship, that's the POINT. They both make mistakes and screw up and have to deal with the fallout and figure out if fighting for each other is worth the possible pain if they make a mistake again. And it is. Of course it is. They both make each other BETTER because their relationship with each other allows them to see themselves more clearly.

Jedi Apprentice could be a really interesting basis for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's characters if more people were willing to do a more than skin deep analysis of it.

[heretherebedork]

It's Juyeong clinging to Dohoe's father out of a desperation to still find that connection to Dohoe, to find that connection to the man he loved but also to the man who was abusive but who took him in, who beat him but did not leave him on the street or turn other people against him.

It's Dohoe pulling himself away from the brink of violence and escaping the life he most feared, trying to escapes the parts of himself he feared by leaving it all behind and knowing where Juyeong was but also knowing what he was doing and never going back.

It's both of them feeling betrayed and abandoned, both of them alone, both of them fighting the curse of the violence that haunts them. Because they are both haunted, each in their own way, by the violence done to them and the violence they did or almost did.

Juyeong tries to teach children what he learned but with kindness and excitement and joy. He tries to share what he found in taekwondo with them but also to show them kindness and care, to show them that they are worthwhile and worth kindness and tenderness and gentleness, all the things he was never shown except by Dohoe, to show them acceptance.

Dohoe left all of that behind. He saw the potential for violence in himself and pulled away from all of it, turning his back entirely on the concept itself. He made a different life, a different kind of life, one without the violence and without the need to forgive.

(They found joy in sparring but that joy was a small one, born of love that brought greater joy in many places and many ways and that joy is the joy they both lost, that joy of love and acceptance and tenderness and abuse stole that from them, the cycle of pain stole from them what could have been and now they must find a way to free themselves, to escape the curse of violence even the violence that they do to themselves.)

[furiousgoldfish]

Being raised in an abused family will often leave you with the abusive system of social hierarchy in your subconscious mind, and you might not even realize you're following its rules in the life after abuse.

The system is created to rationalize and enable abuse, to the point that it's difficult for anything but abuse to go on within the system. It puts all of the people in your life in 2 possible roles: First role are the people with authority over you, who can use you, hurt you, and you have to tolerate it, you have to see it as them 'just taking their frustrations out on you' and 'not knowing any better', and not take it personally. You can't act against them because they always have some hold over you, or just scare you too much to retaliate. The second role are people who have less power than you, or depend on you in some way, and they're the ones who are acceptable for you to demand things from, take your frustrations out on, expect things from them, criticize them or complain how they're not doing enough for you. For some people, who have are used to being at the very bottom of the hierarchy, don't have anyone with less power than them, and will therefore expect always to be the one others are hurting, with nobody to take it out on but themselves.

The reason we learn this is because it happens in the abusive homes, and often other parts of society, to the point where we think it's normal. Parent getting yelled at by the boss, then yelling at home at their spouse, then spouse yelling at the children, and children yelling at each other. In each of these stages, one person is getting their need to feel 'superior to someone' met by dehumanizing and using someone they can do it to, without suffering any consequences. And we accepted this is just how life is, how is one supposed to live without having someone to vent their frustration on? And the solution they propose is 'don't take it personally, this person still loves you they're just having a bad day'. But it's not just one bad day. And there is no love, only dehumanizing you in order to feel superior.

In abusive systems like this, attention, love, caretaking or fulfilling someone's needs is scarce, and will only ever come from those lower on the abusive hierarchy. This means that the less abusive spouse, and the children, will end up giving love and care to the worst abuser, they'll have to fulfill this person's needs and wants, when it should be reverse. Families exists so children could be taken care of. The competition for attention and care can be so fierce that anyone getting attention can make other members of the family angry or jealous, because there's so little of it to go around, and the people giving attention will be taken for granted and used as resources. Dehumanized, only there to fulfill a need.

This is not how normal, healthy communities work. In a normal, healthy setting, everyone is getting their needs met, and we don't fight to feel 'superior to others', we understand that we're all equal, nobody better or more important than another, and each of us special to someone. There's value in humans that isn't shown when all you can do is try to avoid being the target of someone's anger, or trying to prove that you're a good enough resource and you don't deserve to be punished for not doing enough. No human should ever be somebody's target for letting out frustrations. Nobody deserves that.

How to tell if you're still unconsciously living by this system? See if you check any of these points:

people who willingly give you care, attention, love, and fulfill your needs, are people who you give no attention, they're boring and you know you can take them for granted

people you seek attention from are people who are in higher authority than you, popular or special in some way, and who repeatedly ignore/neglect you or are emotionally unavailable and unwilling to care for you

you don't feel guilty or ashamed for yelling or berating someone in your life who annoys you or is in your way, even if they didn't do it on purpose. you feel it's completely their fault for not thinking of you first.

you feel immensely stressed if you accidentally annoy or slight someone who you want attention from, you obsess over how will they see you now and how you must have ruined your chances to be loved or admired by them

you long for more success and better social standing, not only for the money but to feel like you're on top and allowed to tell other people off and never have any consequences for it

you look down on people who are doing worse than you, you feel inclined to tell them it's their fault because if they had tried harder, like you did, they would have made it

you don't feel guilty or ashamed of manipulating people to get what you want, especially if they present no threat to you and there's no consequences for it. You feel inside that they deserve it

you refuse to admit or acknowledge if you're being manipulated or used, because it would feel too humiliating and unbearable to withstand it, you instead pretend it didn't happen

you don't think it's a big deal to cut off anyone who isn't of any use of you, and you don't consider their feelings on the matter

being cut off by someone whose attention you want puts you in a lot of pain and humiliation and you feel like you need to keep it secret or pretend it didn't happen, it damages your sense of self to be aware of it, and you feel it's your fault it happened

you're ready to defend and make excuses for people who are above you in social standing, if they hurt you or anyone else, you feel connected to them and want to reach their status, and for this status to be protected from criticism

you feel that people who are 'below' you in society are at fault both for being hurt, and for hurting anyone else, their motives must always be malicious and you don't think any measure of sanction is too much for them

you find it very normal to vent your frustrations at people who, in your mind, should tolerate this and understand it's just a way of life

If you were at the bottom of the hierarchy in your upbringing, it's likely you don't align with most of these, because you had nobody "under" you to take for granted, or use in any way, and instead you became the resource and the world became the unreachable, scary, and filled with pain for you. If, instead, you were in the middle of it, and were constantly relying on someone to take your frustrations, fulfill your needs, while you're also doing that for somebody else, you could potentially get caught in the loophole and continue living this way, as if its the normal way of life, without realizing it.

This is not a normal way to live. In the system, there is no love, no true connection, no humanity and no respect for any human being. There's only chase for power while stepping all over people who care for you. It's not humane, not sustainable, and the system inevitably crashes once those who provide care and love, withdraw because they realize they've been abused, exploited and got only hatred in return. System relies on abuse and fake feeling of superiority in order to run, and the result is only the abuse of human beings. Nobody is still superior to anyone, but everyone in the system gets a share of being abused, exploited, manipulated and dehumanized.

[hauntedselves]

Clinical Formulations of Narcissistic PD

Clinical formulations and case conceptualisations are introduced in this post.

These are all generalisations and theories of how NPD develops, not something that is supposed to be true for everyone with NPD.

Psychodynamic model

Freud suggests parents either overvaluing or neglecting (or both) a child can lead to NPD & especially inability to form healthy, lasting relationships and regulate self-esteem

"In other words, [NPD] is the outcome of insufficient gratification of the normal narcissistic needs of infancy and childhood."

Kohut theorises that narcissists' ability to form a cohesive sense of self and others was developmentally arrested in childhood, resulting in grandiosity & idealising others

"Narcissistic injury" = fragmentation of the self

Kernberg suggests grandiosity & exploitation result from maternal emotional abuse

Grandiosity is an "emotional escape valve"

Grandiosity & entitlement mask the "real self" that is "split off"

The real self unconsciously holds rage, fear, envy, deprivation

Defensive structure is same as BPD but difference is grandiosity

Biosocial model

NPD is primarily the result of environment, especially "parental indulgence and overvaluation, learned exploitive behavior, and only-child status"

Special treatment from caregivers leads children to believe that the "world revolves around them", and therefore they expect the same outside the home

When special treatment outside the home doesn't happen, they "experiment with demanding and exploitive tactics and subsequently develop considerable skill in manipulating others"

"At the same time they come to believe that most others are inferior, weak, and exploitable."

NPD is self-perpetuating through sense of superiority, lack of self control, sense of entitlement, and dismissing of those who reject their world / self-view

Cognitive-Behavioural model

Key feature of NPD is self-aggrandisement

Core beliefs:

> Deserving of special treatment

> Not bound by social norms and rules

Conditional beliefs:

> Others should be punished for not recognising their specialness

> To maintain that special status others should be subservient to them

Instrumental belief:

> Always strive to demonstrate their superiority

> See themselves as special, superior, entitled to special favors and treatment, and vulnerable to loss of status

> View others as inferior but potential admirers

Main pattern of behaviour is "seeking prestige, power, position, and wealth as a way of reinforcing their image of superiority", using "manipulation and guile" if necessary

The primary schema is superior & special (/ entitlement & grandiosity)

> Superior schema "shaped by flattery, indulgence, and favoritism"

> Special schema shaped by "rejection, limitations, exclusion, or deficits"

> Common denominator is the belief that the individual is different in some way

Three subtypes:

> Self-centered impulsive type

> Ruthless impression-management type

> Acceptance-oriented impression-management type

> Each type is centred around an impulse control deficit developed in childhood

> "Specifically, these individuals learned to seek reinforcers without having to work for them. This resulted in their development as self-indulgent, egocentric, and impulsive individuals."

> Ruthless & Acceptance-oriented types focus on creating favourable impressions with others, but struggle with long-lasting healthy relationships because of their empathy deficits

Interpersonal model

People with NPD were raised in an environment of "selfless not contingent" love, leading to insensitivity to others' needs

The caregiver was over-adoring, but there was also a constant threat of a "fall from grace", with pressure to be the perfect child

The constant overbearing love means that any criticism or disappointment hits very hard

"In short, there is extreme vulnerability to criticism or being ignored, together with a strong wish for love, support, and admiration from others. Noncontingent love and presumptive control of others is expected and even demanded. If support is withdrawn, or lack of perfection is evident, the self-concept degrades into severe self-criticism."

Integrative model

People with NPD are hypersensitive

Seen as exceptional children, leading to pressure to perform

As children likely had highly developed speech and interpersonal skills

Life purpose: "I’m special and unique, and I am entitled to extraordinary rights and privileges whether I have earned them or not."

World-view: "Life is a banquet table to be sampled at will. People owe me admiration and privilege."

Goal: "Therefore, I’ll expect and demand this specialness."

Defense mechanisms: rationalisation and projective identification

Parental injunction: "Grow up and be wonderful—for me."

"The illusion of specialness, disdain for others’ views, and a sense of entitlement lead to an underdeveloped sense of social interest and responsibility. This, in turn, leads to increased self-absorption and confirmation of narcissistic beliefs."

- From Sperry, Handbook of Diagnosis and Treatment of DSM-5 Personality Disorders (2016)

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Moonlight Chicken is For the Queers

Ok I started my rewatch of episode 8 and figured out what I want to talk about for this series' finale: intentions and resolutions. This post will be about intention, and how I truly feel that Moonlight Chicken is a gift for queer people. Why? Well, there are many reasons, but for the purposes of this post, I will simply present the following title card.

Moonlight Chicken, Chapter 8: The Self-made House and Home

(if you are expecting this post to be anything other than a jumbled mess of my personal experiences with no clear through-lines or relevant transitions between sentences, thoughts, etc. then turn back now)

Whatever we want to say boy loves started as, fetish or otherwise, queer people are still able to see themselves or get comfort and representation. But coming from watching literally 25 boy loves in the last four months, this show feels different from most (not all) of them, to me, because of how strongly this show centers around built community, rather than romance, as it's central theme.

And yeah while any standard friend group in BL could be considered community in the abstract, the idea that they are a community is never quite presented. It's Team taking food from Pharm and all three of the gang teasing each other, it's Kuea and Diao spending most of their time talking about their relationships, it's Porsche forgetting Pete exists because he's so caught up in Kinn. More often than not we are building towards and hoping for declarations of love between two characters. And do not get me wrong, that is all well and good, and always what I'm rooting for in those shows. And we get something akin to that in Moonlight Chicken too, which is when you finally have Li Ming and Jim calling Heart and Wen (respectively) their boyfriends.

But the "I love you" we get in Moonlight Chicken? That isn't between the couples, it's between Li Ming and Jim.

Because the thing that makes Moonlight Chicken different from other BLs is the emphasis it puts on queer elders raising queer youth. It's about queer youth learning from queer elders and queer elders learning from queer youth. It's about how home and birth families don't always fit quite right, and how you build families and homes despite. And it's applicable to many people, children in abusive homes, disabled people, etc. too. Which is why P'Aof adds strained parental relationships and deafness in to this piece. But because this is fundamentally a BL show, I'm viewing this more through a queer lens.

So naturally, this also means I am informing my analysis of this show through my feelings as the only (known/out/visible) queer person on either side of my family. When I was little, a decade or more before I realized I was queer, I asked my mother one night if I was adopted. I'm not, and I know that, but why did I ask? Because I never really felt like I fit. Not the way I was supposed to fit, not the way family was supposed to fit together. My house never felt like a home.

And it's why I love this exchange between Wen and Jim at the end of episode 2

"I want home," "Don't you already have one?" "I don't." "A person like me doesn't fit to be anyone's home,"

And technically we know this isn't true. Wen does have a home, he has a condo, he has a place to sleep. But emotionally is where the problem lies. Wen is living with his ex, the apartment is cold, he has work colleagues and a friend that he and his ex both know and that's it. And as he tells Jim in episode 7, all his friends are straight. And then he meets Jim, and there is a spark, and maybe it's possible for home to grow there.

Literally, physically, I have a home. I have a family. But the more I embrace my queerness, the more I understand and am comfortable with myself, the more isolating and cold that house and family feel. I'm such a different person now than I was, and there are homophobes and transphobes on both sides of my family, and that makes it hard for me to feel like I am loved. Even when logically I know I am. But it's hard, when your mother says she accepts you and has yet to use my pronouns properly despite me being out to her for over a year and having three separate conversations about it. When your uncle spends twenty minutes or more complaining about trans people, when your cousins don't think trans people should exist. That's my family...technically. That's my home...technically. But it hasn't felt like that in years. So I understand what Wen means here, Wen's definition of home is not a place it is a feeling.

And Jim? We know Jim is already everyone's home. He is home for Li Ming, he is the closest thing to a parent that Leng has in his life, he makes sure the community not only has food, but has as much as food as they could possibly eat. He is first and foremost a community caretaker. But he is so wrapped up in his grief about Beam, his self-hatred, his stubbornness, his exhaustion that he is not able to believe that about himself. Home is a place and not a feeling for Jim, because he can't allow it to be.

The key to Wen and Jim's relationship is finding and building that home.

Home, Family, Community. These are incredibly important themes to Moonlight Chicken and those themes are incredibly important aspects of being queer.

I don't know how Thailand is re: homophobia and transphobia, if kids risk the same chance of getting kicked out of their homes for being queer, etc. But that is a very real possibility for many queer people in the States. But I'm thinking of homelessness in queer youth, how 28% of queer youth have reported experiencing homelessness in their lives. I'm thinking of ballroom and ball culture and how participants in the Ballroom scene were parts of Houses with mothers and fathers at the head of them who acted as mentors to their queer children. When I think about queerness and what it means, I think about ballroom. I think about connection, I think about community.

But that community is often forged from necessity borne out of isolation. What do I mean by isolation? I mean the isolation that Li Ming feels in school, around his school friends. I mean the faces Li Ming makes when his friends are talking about girls:

I mean the physical barriers the show places between Li Ming and his school friends.

It is the isolation that comes with queerness, with poverty, with everything about Li Ming. Beyond the fact Wen is a little younger than Jim and thus better able to understand and see Li Ming's desires to be seen as an adult. I think it is this state of listlessness in Li Ming is also something Wen recognizes. I think at this point Li Ming is so desperate to get away, to go to America, to be listened to and respected by Jim.

Jim who is too caught up in constant stress to see the home he has built for himself, Li Ming who is too caught up in wanting to be understood to appreciate that he has a home to run from. Wen who is working as a go between for Li Ming and Jim because he wants them to be his home. Heart who has been trapped at home and found his freedom because Li Ming understands the frustration of misunderstanding, and the importance of community.

I'm thinking about how so much of the final episodes are dedicated to showing community, showing family, showing the audience that home lies in the collective.

We see it in how many people rush to help Mrs. Hong:

We see it in the people who help you carry your grief:

We see it in how deeply and broadly the pain is felt when community pillars are lost:

We see it in the end of and era:

We see it in the olive branches:

And in new beginnings:

Very few people in these shots are connected through blood, but they are a family. And when I look at these shots the only thing I can think about is how I felt the night I threw a party for all my trans friends. All I can think about when I see these shots of everyone sitting and eating together is how many times I would look over to my friends and see them beaming. How many times someone came up to me to excitedly say this is the first time they felt like they could fully be themselves. How everyone kept asking to do an event like this again. How everyone kept asking to be added to a group chat at the end of the night so they could keep in contact.

And I remember how it felt for me to realize that I had built a community for myself in a place that I have really been struggling to feel was home. Because I had spent so much time in school and work, barley able to scrape together enough money to cover expenses, exhausted and stressed and unable to see what I had sitting right in front of me.

And I think about other queer people I have met, who light up when they see someone else who is gay, who talk about how lonely they feel because they only have one other queer friend. How immediately the need to invite them out, to introduce them to people, to make sure they have community strikes.

I think about how I worked at a summer camp out of state, and got to try out my pronouns, and figure out who I was, and then a few months later, I had to return home. Where I wasn't out yet, where I was going to get misgendered, and how quickly I came out to all of my close friends about my gender identity to try to mitigate how much my mental health tanked when I had to be someone my parents thought I still was. How at the same camp, the queer kids flocked to all the queer staff, how desperate they were to bond. How much lighter they got to be when they were away from their parents and allowed to be themselves around people who also understood not only them as people with the identities they held, but also their struggles existing in a household that didn't see who they were.

I think about how, in the States at least, "are you family?" is/was used as code for "are you gay?"

It's why it is so important to me that Moonlight Chicken ends with the line: "I just built a home. I don't want to move anywhere."

Because Wen has finally built his home. Because he has found his family, his queer community, his home. And yeah, we get the romance, yeah we get Li Ming and Heart holding hands, and Jim and Wen making out, but the emphasis of the final episode is moving forward, being brave, allowing yourself to love, and allowing yourself to stop, look around, and realize that you've made a home for yourself that is built of the people you love who love you in return.

Community building is a huge part of life for literally everyone, but it vital to the survival of marginalized communities. And when I think about my own relationship to queerness, one of the most sacred and important aspects of being queer is building the family you need.

[jaimeslayers]

The Things I Do For Love: A Jaime Lannister Analysis 

So much discussion around Jaime revolves around the theme of redemption. What does it mean? Is it possible? How does one redeem themselves? However, another core aspect of what Jaimes character is all about is love, what he will do for it, and how it changes him.

When we first meet Jaime he is the mirror image of Cersei: beautiful, so confident that it is bordering on arrogance, and cruel. This is reflected in their incestuous relationship, one that has lasted since the twins were children. This relationship stems from the idea of Lannister supremacy encouraged and fostered by Tywin. It is through Tywin’s actions such as the extermination of the Reyne and Castamere families that the Lannister siblings learned that anyone who wasn’t a Lannister was inferior and beneath them. It is this sort of lion's pride that lives in each of them, even Tyrion. When it comes to Jaime and Cersei it manifests itself in their incestuous relationship. To them no one else was worthy of themselves, only another Lannister, and who else could they turn to but their identical twin? Through time the twins developed an “us versus them” mentality. That no one else mattered but them. It is this codependency that only grew as they grew up. It is this mentality that is key to understanding Jaime’s own identity.

Due to the belief that they were each other's mirror image, Jaime created an image of Cersei based off of himself. He thinks that Cersei may be a little mean and does some bad stuff but isn’t evil. It is this false image that helps Jaime repress (of which he often does with uncomfortable truths) the fact that Cersei is unnecessarily cruel and abusive towards his beloved little brother Tyrion. It makes it easier for him to love her too. It is this love for his siblings that defines Jaime. While a horrible thing to do, the whole reasoning behind pushing Bran out the window after catching the twins having sex is out of perverse protective love for Cersei. Jaime knows that she and himself will be killed if the truth comes out. While one can argue he also was considering the lives of their children it’s only till Feast that Jaime begins to care about Tommen. This protective nature also manifests itself later in AGOT when Jaime and his men kill Ned’s escort due to Tyrion being kidnapped and being placed under arrest. Yet another morally dubious action done out of love for his siblings. However, it is this love and ego that eventually shatters when Jaime loses his sword hand.

So much of Jaime’s identity revolved around his sword hand. It was the hand he used to kill Aerys and touch Cersei alongside many other things central to his person. By having it cut off Jaime learns that Lannisters can indeed be hurt just like any other person breaking down his image of an invulnerable golden Lannister. Through losing his hand, he is forced to ask himself the questions of who he really is and what that looks like. For a while, he holds onto the love for his siblings, especially his mirror image Cersei. However, it is this image that shatters. For Cersei, she sees that Jaime no longer resembles her and for this she goes cold. This being in direct contrast to Jaime’s idea that the love and codependency that they had created for themselves was unconditional. His relationship with Tyrion also implodes in ASOS with the Tysha reveal. The relationship with the twins further breaks down not simply due to Jaime now knowing of Cersei’s infidelity but also her growing darker nature. It is this that also shatters the mirror image. Cersei is unnecessarily cruel by burning down the Tower of the Hand with wildfire. By comparing her to Aerys, it is clear that Jaime’s image of her being just like him is gone. It is likely she has woken up his trauma that he desperately tries to repress. Jaime learns that her cruelty is not his own despite his prior morally dubious actions. While this relationship breaks down another grows. This being his relationship with Brienne.

In a direct contrast to Jaime and Cersei’s relationship, the dynamic that exists between Jaime and Brienne is based on reality not delusion. Brienne sees the worst in Jaime through his ego and knows of his most horrible acts. She bluntly calls him out on these and judges him for them. On the other hand Jaime insults her and plays on her insecurities. However, it is the loss of his hand that things change for the two. While still not friends directly after the injury, Jaime ensures Brienne is not assaulted after all the abuse both him and her have faced. Upon their arrival at Harrenhal, Jaime makes sure that her wounds are cared for as much as his.  For Brienne she learns the truth behind Jaime’s murder of Aerys. Through this and many other actions such as Jaime rescuing her from the bear and giving her Oathkeeper, she sees that there is some good in the man. On the flip side, Jaime develops one of the first relationships in his life with someone who is not a Lannister. He learns to both see and respect that Brienne is her own person, one that is complicated and does her own thing. It is this what Jaime is becoming. As such, Brienne is not a plot device for Jaime’s development but rather a catalyst. Through her Jaime learns to care about another individual and care deeply.

While we don’t know where Jaime’s story will go just yet. Perhaps he is the Valonqar or maybe he will be killed by Stoneheart. Regardless of where he goes it's clear that love and his falling out of it and arguably his falling into it has greatly defined his arc and who he is.

[eywa-eveng]

ɪᴠ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.4

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake, major character death

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @itscheybaby @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @goldenmoonbeam @ladylovegood-69 @slutforsmut4ever @myheartfollower @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz @sovereignsylvia @scc7514 @ghost-lantern @calums-betch @nao-cchi @a--1--1--3 @crazy4books1 @meladollsims @yeosxxx

Wounds will heal with time. Scabs turned to scars. And these demons have gouged deep gashes across Pandora, ravaging everything they touch with no regard for anything outside of themselves. They are the aliens setting foot in a world that is not their own and yet they treat Pandora as if she is theirs to tame. To torture and abuse. Like a diseased plant poisoning all that it’s roots tough, they take and take, never returning that which they’ve stolen. They reap without sowing and destroy everything that wanders into their path. The Great Mother has surely weeped for many years at the atrocities these sawtute have committed against her. And even those years of peace were stolen away in a heartbeat. A scar long since healed torn open to bleed once more. Pandora had prevailed once before and yet these humans have learned nothing. Ignorant as children, repeating the same mistake and hoping that this time it will be different. 

The oceans have been stained in blood by their hands. The blood of tulkun. The blood of Na’vi. But the favor has been returned and it’s now their blood that mingles with the waves. This battle may have been small, only a shadow of the might they brought down upon the forest, but they lost. What was left of their people retreated like wounded animals, chased out of the ocean back to whatever stolen piece of the forest they’ve made their home. But how long until they’ve regained their strength? How long until they return once more in search of revenge. These humans are like weeds. Cut away only to grow back once more. It will be a small miracle if they’re gone long enough for the People to heal, to grieve. Because both sides have suffered losses, though some feel greater than others. 

“Tsireya!” It’s the first word you’ve spoken in what feels like days and it sears through your throat as if you’ve swallowed fire. The clouds of smoke had not been kind to your body, feeling your lungs and making each breath feel like you’ve swallowed thorns. 

“Sa’tsmuke!” Sunlight spills over her in a wash of amber light, tears sparkling in her eyes as she finds you in the distance. Payakan had kept all of you in the cradle of his fins through the eclipse. It allowed for a fitful sort of rest in the soft rocking of the waves. It felt like the comfort of your mother’s arms gently bouncing you as your mind slowly began to stitch itself back together after coming undone by the thought of your son being one of the casualties lost to the hands of the sky demons. Even now you can hardly think further than what is in front of your eyes. Your children, your mate. Your family. You cling to the idea of them, terrified of what will happen if you allow the pain to consume you once more. To return to that great gaping maw that swallowed you whole, covered your eyes and quieted your mind to anything but seeking to make others suffer with you. It was deserved but the demons are gone. To lash out now would be to hurt those that you love. The only people that remain already share in your pain. 

A deep breath steadies your resolve. 

Tsireya stands shakily to her feet, swaying as she wraps her arms around herself, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. She reaches for you as soon as you climb ashore the tiny stone island. 

“Tsmuke’ite,” you cup her face until her gaze steadies on your face, “where’s your brother? Where are Ao’nung and Rotxo?” She shakes her head as falls into your arms, burying her face in your chest. Her heartbeat drums against the palm of your hand settles on her back. You curl yourself around her as if there’s anything left to protect her from. The damage has been done. All you can do is pick up the pieces left behind. Her tears wet your skin as your nose presses against the shell crowning her head. She smells like home. Like comfort and safety and happiness beyond this small piece of land wet with water and blood. Her hair carries the familiar scent of dried flowers and that sour fruit so few people seem to like. Your heart pinches at the thought as your arms tighten around her. Ronal and Tsireya were always the ones to share the sour fruit with you until the Sullys arrived. Neteyam seemed to love the almost bitter taste. It pains you to think you’ll never bask in the simple joy of eating with your son again. 

The points of your fangs dig into your lower lip as you brace yourself to look over at where you know he’s lying. Tuk is at his side, holding his hand in her own. Her tears fall over his fingers and drip down his arm and still he doesn’t move. And his stillness can’t be mistaken for anything other than death. His eyes are closed but it hardly looks like he’s resting. The hole torn through his chest stands out against his deep blue skin, like a red flower blooming in his chest. The sight of it snatched the air from your lungs and the strength from your body. Lo’ak rushes to your side as Tsireya struggles to keep you standing. The ground meets your knees, stone chafing your skin, but you hardly notice. Tsireya says something. Perhaps to you, or maybe to Lo’ak. It sounds as if she’s shouting from across the horizon even as she kneels beside you. A hand touches your shoulder, just for a moment before falling away as you rise just far enough to move. Your hands keep your movements steady as you half crawl towards Neteyam’s prone body. 

There’s a deceptive sort of warmth to his skin as you reach out to touch him, fingertips brushing over his cheek. The sun casts fleeting heat across his cold body as you pull him into your lap. He’s been here for hours, cold and alone save for Tsireya and the stone beneath him is wet with a facing wash of his blood. It stains your legs as you hug him close, Tuk nuzzling against you as you wrap your arms around the both of them. Her cries are quiet as she hides her face in your side, hands clinging to the beaded strings of your chest covering. The pads of your fingers find the shape of his pil, tracing the striped pattern so different from the ripples dappling your own face. Tears cloud your vision as you brush over the softness of his lashes, desperately hoping against hope that his eyes will suddenly flutter open. 

The shape of the wound in his chest seems almost delicate. Small and insignificant if it were in another place. The ocean holds many wonders, but also great dangers. Warriors have come to you to heal far more grievous wounds. Your fingers find the shape of the wound you’d stitched only weeks ago. It has healed well, only a slightly raised scar, a pale slash across his arm. He bled then too. It had seemed like such a simple thing to heal. A needle and thread to soothe the hurt, but some things are beyond your abilities as tsakarem. Even a tsahìk would be powerless to this injury. 

The thought weighs heavy in your heart. Already so much has been taken and still there is more to lose. But these things have a reason. There is balance in all that Eywa does. The Great Mother protects the balance of life no matter the cost. All things have a reason even when you cannot See it. This pain has blinded you, closed your heart. Your chest feels cold and empty as if the flame of your soul has burned out. Perhaps it has. The only thing left burning inside are the tears in your eyes, clouding your vision even as you try to focus on Neteyam’s face. To carve him into your memory before he is washed and committed to the ocean, returned to Eywa. Soon a search party will be sent to find those stranded and your family will be among them. Neteyam will be taken home. His adornments will be removed and his body washed in preparation for his burial, but you want to stay here for a while longer. To count the pale freckles dotted across his cheeks, to remember the pattern of stripes crowning his forehead. 

Someone says your name. Gentle as a warm breeze as you hug Neteyam close, cheek pressed against his braided hair. A shadow falls over your back, blocking out the warmth of the sun and reminding you just how cold Neteyam feels in your arms. 

“Come here, yuey.” Jake whispers. It’s his hands that move you more than any will of your own, gently unwinding your arms until Neteyam is laying on the ground once more with Tuk still at his side. It seems wrong to leave him there. Stone isn’t as gentle as sand. Surely his tswin is being pinched under the weight of his head. You reach to push a stray braid away from his face but Jake catches your fingers with his own. His grip is insistent as he pulls you away. Kiri takes your place at Neteyam’s side, taking his hand in hers just as Tuk had. You watch over them as Jake pulls you aside and wraps you in his embrace, arms tighten until the air is crushed from your lungs but you hardly protest. His grip is grounding though you can’t help but wonder how long this strength will last. Already you can see the splinters forming in the crease between his brows, in the hard line of his lips and the pain swirling like a storm in his eyes. 

“Monkey boy.” Kiri’s voice is quiet, only the faintest hint of relief ringing in her otherwise doleful tone. Her eyes are staring past you and you turn to find the same human god threatened on the demon ship. He looks different now that your mind isn’t fogged with mournful violence. When he was under your knife you hadn’t cared much for the finer details of his appearance, but now you stare at him with a renewed sense of curiosity. He boasts the trappings of a Na’vi and yet he still seems so strange and out of place. 

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, fingertips brushing over the scratch you’d left on his chest. It’s shallow as you’d expected and the bleeding has long since stopped. He nods but he eyes you warily before stepping away from the two of you. He joins the children around Neteyam’s body, speaking your language with assured fluidity. On the ship he had spoken in the human language but now he seems comfortable as he speaks to Kiri and Lo’ak, gently touching Neteyam’s arm. You stiffen, tail swaying tensely behind you. 

“Shh,” Jake whispers, nuzzling his nose against your temple as he feels your muscles tighten in his arms. “He’s okay. He’s safe.” You aren’t sure if he means the boy or Neteyam who can no longer be hurt by the hands of a tawtute. You watch him as he interacts with your family. Tsireya eyes him warily, sharing a fleeting glance with you even as Lo’ak speaks to him with a familiarity akin to that he shares with his siblings. All of the Sully children seem at ease in his presence but you find yourself still wondering about his ties to humanity. The man that held your daughters captive, that nearly killed your mate, hesitated at the thought of this human boy dying by your hand. He hadn’t seemed so worried over his band of uniltìrantokx warriors and it makes you nervous to think of what importance he holds to the demons terrorizing your home. He must feel the weight of your gaze as you scrutinize him, picking out the finer details of his appearance, because his shoulders begin to curl as if he can become any smaller. 

His hair is loc’d like Jake’s and adorned with beads, and you notice the end of a braid hanging down his back. Likely his equivalent of a tswin. A scowl finds its way onto your face, lip curling with distaste. Seeing something so sacred being mimicked by a human feels almost insulting. Your shoulders rise as your body seizes with disgust only to be soothes by Jake’s soft petting as he traces the shape of the stripes swirling across your shoulder beneath his fingers. You feel all five of them gliding across your skin. Five fingers. The same amount that Lo’ak has. That Kiri has. That this boy before you has. If he is so repugnant then what is keeping you from feeling repulsed by your mate and the family he’s given you. Your eyes move away from the braid, tracing over the rest of him. His armbands are handsomely made, the pattern indicative of the Omatikaya’s intricate weaving style. His tewng is comparatively plain but there is a songcord hanging from it. 

“Sa’nok,” Kiri says warily, watching you watch the boy. She had always spoken so fondly of her human friend and now she seems almost resigned to your displeasure. Hearing about him is different from seeing him before you, and suddenly you can’t reconcile the thought of this seemingly peaceful boy with the demons that attacked your family only a few hours ago. Not when he meant something to one of them. Norm and Max had been abandoned by their people, left here to live out their lives in a place that they loved. They made sacrifices to be here. What has this boy done but aided the demons that attacked your home. Speaking the tongue of your people only to demand to know where Jake had hidden himself away in a desperate attempt to live in peace. 

“Sa’nok, please.” Kiri tries again. You do your best to smooth out your expression and ease your body until a tenuous sort of neutrality returns to your face. Tsireya seems to calm with you, shoulders relaxing under Lo’ak’s arm. The boy–Spider–looks between all of you, as if he’s trying to piece together the threads that bind you to them. But he speaks Na’vi. He must know what sa’nok means. His eyes are brown and full of hesitancy as he stands to face you. So strange that you can See into him the same way you can with your People. 

“Spider,” Jake says finally, introducing you by name. “This is my mate.” 

“She is the sister of tsahìk of the Metkayina. A tsakarem.” Kiri adds. Spider nods but it hardly relieves the tension between the two of you. Part of you wonders if this is how Ronal felt when the Sullys first arrived. These strange new people, coming to join your clan despite their obvious differences. But if her animosity had been misplaced then, so too is yours now. This boy is loved by those that you hold in your heart. Even still he doesn’t seem any more at ease than he’d been a moment ago. 

There’s a dip between his brows where the fear on his face has gathered. He’s frightened again. Though not nearly as terrified as he’d been with your blade against his skin. He looks afraid, but not of you. In his eyes the fear seems to run deeper than your appearance. This Spider does not fear Na’vi. And yet he is still afraid. He shrinks back when you take a step towards him, curiously staring into his brown eyes as if the dark depths will become clearer with closeness. Surely you aren’t easing his nerves with your continued silence, but you’re listening for something. A shift in the wind, a rogue screech of a hì’ikran. Anything that might tell you what Eywa wills you should do with this boy. When nothing comes you wonder if she’s already given you your answer. This boy is no threat to you or your family. He is precious to your children. That should be enough. Especially now when so much has already been lost. To turn him away would be to further fracture your family. Still you’re curious.

“Oel ngati kameie.” He bows, hand extending towards you in a customary greeting. You hum in acknowledgment but don’t share the sentiment. Just like his tswin you can’t help but wonder if he fully realizes the weight of his words or if he’s simply mimicking those around him. His body is adorned with fading war paint, stripes streaking across his skin in uneven lines. There’s no pattern to the blue markings as there would be on a Na’vi. It seems strange that someone like him hasn’t decided on a more traditional design for his paint. It’s almost childish how desperate the thick lines are, how obviously they’re meant to mimic the sharper stripes of a forest Na’vi. 

“Where is your family?” You ask at last. Spider seizes as if you’ve struck him but you spoke softly, keenly aware that all your screaming had whittled your voice down to a rasped drawl that might make him hear anger where none was meant to be found. 

“My mother is dead. And my father… he’s dead, too.” He looks away as he says this but you don’t need to see his eyes to know that isn’t the truth. A lie. A word Jake had to teach you. Something different from the truth. You don’t ask again. If he wants to lie to you then you will let him live in his delusion. No one corrects him and you wonder if they know he isn’t speaking truthfully. 

“This is my family.” He says after a beat of silence. His voice breaks as he looks down at Neteyam. You hum and turn your back to him, eyes facing towards the horizon where riders will soon come to take you home. They arrive as you listen to the faint voices of the children reuniting with their friend. The soft screeching of skimwings echo over the open water followed by the long bellow of a horn. A scattering of voices whoop and yip in return as those left behind make their presence known. Your own voice joins the calls, the sharp sound burning your throat. Riderless tsuraks and ilus swim through the water and you mount the first one you find. The ilu tosses its long neck as you make tsaheylu, clicking as the storm in your mind mingles with their own. Tuk rides with you, her little arms clinging tight to your waist as you ride back to the village. 

A net of silence has been cast over the island. The shallows are empty and the beach deserted, chores abandoned in favor of mending what’s been broken by the humans. Battle is not unknown to Na’vi. Clans fight amongst themselves when peace cannot be made with words. The humans had ravaged Pandora before. But never here. Never in the far reaches of the ocean reefs. Even the tulkun that had been killed were murdered far to the south. Now the shadow these demons cast has finally fallen over Awa’atlu. Kiri takes Tuk as all of you arrive home, leading her to the marui. All of the children trail behind Jake as he carries Neteyam’s body. He looks so small in his father’s arms. It’s your instinct to follow, to comfort. Instead you find yourself hand in hand with Tsireya as you make your way to your sister’s home. 

Tonowari is the first to notice your arrival, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of you and his daughter on the breeze. He meets you on the path overhanging the water, arms winding painfully around the both of you before he kneels before Tsireya. A gracious sigh comes from inside the marui as Ronal emerges with Ao’nung at her side. She goes to her daughter first, hands moving over her body in search of any wound that needs tending. Ao’nung strays toward you, head knocking against your shoulder. He doesn’t speak but his actions are enough. You rest a hand on his head. Not quite a hug but enough to offer comfort. He hesitates before grabbing your arm and leaning into the weight of your hand resting on his braided hair. 

“Tsmuke.” Ronal moves in beside her son, eyes tracing over you. “You’re hurt. Come.” There’s no leniency in her words as she pulls you inside and sits you next to the cookfire. The needle stings as she threads the torn skin of your arm back together with meticulous hands, rubbing a soothing balm over the wound when she’s finished. The pain had already calmed to a manageable throb after being ignored for so long and now it feels all but numbed. 

“What happened?” She asks after returning her healing items to their rightful place. “I felt your tirea so vividly but I could not find you. We searched but the demons were retreating. We had to look after the clan. We–I thought–” she gathers herself with a long breath, “I’m glad to see you safe.” 

Ronal has never been a coddling person that speaks gently and soothes worries with softened words. She is plain in her speech, pointed and assured even with her own children. It has always been this way growing up in her shadow. You were kept under her impartial guidance in all things and even now she isn’t inclined to soften her strong voice, but she can do nothing to mask the worry she felt even if she hasn’t said it in so many words. The fear she must’ve felt turning for home without her daughter and sister at her side must’ve stabbed through her like an arrow but Ronal is tsahìk before she is anything else. The clan looks to her and Tonowari for guidance and they cannot waver no matter the circumstances. Though your olo’eyktan is more open with his fears. 

“You are a fearsome warrior, but I feared for your death when we could not find you. I stayed until the last of our mounted warriors had retreated, praying that the Great Mother would spare our tsakarem.” 

“Eywa has heard you.” You hum with little enthusiasm. “I was on the demon ship. They took Kiri. They had Tuk and Tsireya. I couldn’t leave them.” Tsireya looks towards the floor, ears pulled back tight as she leans heavily against her father. He holds her close, thumb rubbing soothing circles into her arm. A parent reunited with their child. You understood the need to keep her close. You’d felt it when you saw her stranded and alone on that little island, felt it when you saw Kiri and Tuk bound on the demon ship. A part of your family has been reunited but there is still a fragment missing. A piece that will never be replaced. Your hand finds the length of your songcord, thumb drawing over each piece in turn. Your first breath, your selection as tsakarem, your iknimaya. The whole of your life is strung here. And it will continue. Already there is a need for new additions. But so many cords were cut short in the battle. The threads slip through your fingers as your hands begin to shake. The bitter taste returns to your mouth as you try to find the words through the rising tears. 

“I found Kiri and Tuk after Tsireya escaped, but–” your voice cracks as tears rise in your eyes once more, “I couldn’t protect them all. I–we lost Neteyam.” 

“Neteyam? He–?” Ronal’s eyes find yours in an instant. Her eyes are wide with panic as her hands find yours now tightened to fists to keep the tremors at bay. You can imagine what she is thinking. How could Neteyam, the promising warrior, son of Toruk Makto, be lost in battle? Tonowari looks just as disbelieving. He has seen Neteyam’s prowess, trained him alongside Ao’nung and the others. His death must seem impossible and yet he is gone just the same. 

“He is with Eywa now.” Is all you can muster. Your sister bows her head, eyes unblinking as she hears your words. When she meets your gaze again her eyes are resigned. It’s the same dark cast her green eyes had taken when Jake insisted on sending away the tulkun. Disbelief and rejection linger in her voice when she finally speaks. 

“Go to them.” A basket is hastily filled with food before she leads you outside. “Your family needs you now.” The path from your sister to your mate is a familiar one and you arrive to find the children gathered outside the marui. The covering meant to keep out wind and rain is drawn closed and Jake is nowhere to be seen. Still, you tend to your children first. Tuk is hugged against Lo’ak’s side and Kiri and Spider are sitting in the canoe just beyond their hanging feet. There are no words exchanged as you offer each of them food, hesitating for a moment before offering some to Spider. He doesn’t protest when Kiri snatched the leaf wrapped meat from him, carefully picking through it before rewrapping it. They haven’t eaten in hours and you watch them carefully as they take their first bites, keeping a close eye on Spider. 

He takes a deep breath before his mask hissed as he pulls it away just long enough to fit a gluttonous bite into his mouth. It must be easier to take larger bites than prolong his time without proper air. You find yourself waiting for something terrible to happen. It isn’t uncommon for children to explore the world with their mouth, eating anything that looks enticing. But some things are poisonous, meant to be consumed by animals that have developed immunities to them. But when Spider doesn’t begin to choke or itch you deem it safe to leave them to eat. You’re still weary of him but far too exhausted by loss to let another child slip between your fingers today. Human or otherwise. 

Inside you find Jake kneeling beside Neteyam’s body, the faint blue light of the sun peeking through the marui membrane, the only thing lighting the somber home. His ears twitch at the sound of your approach but he makes no move to look at you. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, scenting the air instead of turning to see who you are. Only when you’re within arm’s reach does he move, his hand finding yours in a nearly painful grip as he pulls you down beside him. He curls himself around you until you’re nearly in his lap. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it over and over, nearly choking on the words as the air refuses to stay in his lungs. Each inhale is shallow and rushed, too quick as each exhale rushes across your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, clinging impossibly closer. His tail finds its way around you, the tuft of hair tickling your skin though you hardly feel like laughing as you watch your mate fall apart in your arms with no way to hold him together. He had been strong for all of you but at last the tide has turned. 

“She killed him. I killed him. All of it was for nothing. I’m supposed to protect the People and I can’t even protect my own son.” 

Your skin is wet with tears where he’s hidden his face. Even if you wanted to, you can’t pull away from him. He’s holding you tight, blunt nails biting into your skin as if even the slightest bit of slack in his embrace will leave space for something to take you away. He’s shattering like splintered wood and it’s all you can do to gather the pieces back together. He lets you. His cries grow quiet and his breaths slow as you try your best to soothe him. It’s only a temporary consolation. This type of pain isn’t one that can be healed with salves or prayers. Even tsahìk cannot heal this wound. Grief is something that only passes with time. And even if you like a thousand years it’s almost certain a part of you will die still mourning your son. 

“I failed him.” Jake mumbles. His voice sounds utterly defeated. “A father protects. That was my job. Above anything else I’m supposed to protect my family. I couldn’t even do that. My son–” his words break off into a choked sob as he shakes his head. “My boy.” He touches Neteyam at last, his hand settling against his son’s cheek while the other keeps you close. “Neteyam.” Tears fall onto Neteyam’s cheeks as Jake bows over him. His eyes flit across his face, looking at every detail before he finally sits back. 

“I wish we had more time.” Jake whispers. It breaks your heart, or what’s left of it, shredding the few fragile pieces that remain. No father wants to bury their child. Neteyam was meant to grow up, grow old. Be laid to rest long after Jake was gone. Now here you sit. Returning such a young soul to the Great Mother. 

“I wish you had more time with him. He loved you, you know. I know he might not have said it much, but he did.” Jake’s hands hesitate as he takes Neteyam’s songcord from its place hanging on his loincloth. Some beads you know from when he would hum the melody of his life during quieter moments. His iknimaya, the shell marking his arrival in Awa’atlu. But there’s another close after. One you’d assumed was a chorus bead, a placeholder between events. Events that would never come. There’d be no bead for his Metkayina iknimaya. No bead for his mate. No bead for his first child or a triumph in battle. Every cord must have a last bead and it seems the one Jake is rolling between his fingers will be it. It’s a pearl, pale blue and lustrous in the muted light. 

“This one’s for you.” Jake says, gently placing the waytelem in your hands. “It matches his mother’s.” There’s another bead, farther back in his life story. A light blue bead of stone laced with black veins. “This was the bead for her death. He wanted yours to match hers as a show of his love and respect for both of you.” It’s not until Jake thumbs away the moisture gathering on your cheeks that you realize you’re crying. Of course you knew Neteyam loved you. A tsakarem is taught to See all, to feel the ties that bond each being to Eywa and each other. When you quiet your mind and steady your soul, pushing aside any thoughts and worries you can almost feel the people around you. Their triumphs and tribulations. Their happiness and sorrows. Just as clearly as you can see it in their eyes, their tirea can be felt like the warmth of a flame wafting off their skin. 

Neteyam always radiated calm and contentment when he was at your side. You often found him accompanying you in your chores the same as Kiri. The eldest of your children preferring the more subdued space of your marui to the mischief Lo’ak and Tuk seemed to stir the moment you take your eyes off them. Now there is nothing surrounding him, no air of comfort as you stare at his serene face. Nothing. This is only a body, waiting to be returned to the earth. Neteyam has been gone for hours, his vitra already passed into the hands of Eywa. 

“We have to clean him.” You say finally, rising to gather some water. The freshwater spring isn’t far from the Sully marui and you find others there. Bowed heads and solemn faces as they gather their fill of water. Death is not uncommon. Life must always be returned in the end. Energy is only borrowed and one day you have to give it back. This is the way. And it is good. Eywa holds all those that have passed into her hands. No one is truly gone, and yet you will never see your son again. Not truly. The Ranteng Utralti will offer brief glimpses, small moments of comfort. But it won’t be lasting. No new memories will be made. No changes will be seen in his face. He will remain as he was while everything continues to change without him. Death has parted him and only death will reunite you in the Great Mother’s arms. Jake is still where you left him when you return, Lo’ak following close behind you.

“It is time.” You say gently. Jake nods. He’s slow in his work as he washes the blood from Neteyam’s skin. Taking off each of his adornments and setting them aside. His necklace, his armbands. They’ll be kept as memories, passed down to his siblings or their children as cherished items. Lo’ak puts them away with care. It’s plain on his face that he has many things he wishes to say but has resigned himself to the silence. You busy yourself with weaving, the familiarity of the task is strangely comforting even as you weave the bindings Neteyam will wear as he’s returned to Eywa. It takes hours, long enough for day to give way to evening as the sky begins to darken to dusk. Finally you set aside the last of your weaving to stand. It is time to allow everyone to say their final goodbyes. Jake has already had his time with Neteyam as he washed the blood and sweat from his body. Now he leaves you to say your parting words.

It’s so strange to touch him and know he will not move, to breathe in and find his scent stale in their air as if he hasn’t been here in many hours. And truly he hasn’t. The body before you is empty of life. Neteyam is gone. But there’s still a small comfort in sitting beside him one last time. 

“We didn’t have long together did we?” You ask quietly, a sad laugh leaving your lips. “Even if it was only for a moment it has been an honor being your mother. Did you know your sempul still hasn’t told me your mother’s name. I’ve been too afraid to ask. You’re likely with her now. I’d like to think she’ll be happy to see you but I’m sure it’s a bittersweet reunion. And I’m sorry I could not do more to protect you. Our Great Mother protects only the balance of life, but if she willed it I would trade my life for yours. But what’s past has passed, all I can say now is goodbye, maitan. Until we meet again.” His skin is cold beneath your lips as you press a parting kiss to his forehead. When you emerge Kiri stands with Spider in hand. They duck inside and you leave them to their privacy. 

Instead you find your way to your own marui. It stands as little more than a place to keep your things since finally being convinced to sleep with your mate in his own home without feeling as though you’re imposing. You’ve had your time with him. Now it is their turn to whisper their goodbyes. 

“Here you are.” Jake stands at the entrance of your home, back turned to the darkening sky. The freckles dotted across his skin are beginning to glow faintly. The pattern is interrupted by a slash across the bridge of his nose, dipping over his cheek. You hadn’t noticed it before but now it gives you purpose. Just as weaving had you find a distraction in healing. 

“You’re hurt. Come here.” You light the fire pit in the center of your pod, before finding a needle and thread. Jake’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stitch up his wound. When you’re done he doesn’t allow you to pull away. Instead his hands settle on your face, bringing your head close until your nose is pressed against his. One hand leaves your cheek to reach behind you, brushing over the curls of your hair before settling over the braid of your tswin. He draws it over your shoulder, bringing it to his lips. For a moment you expect him to ask for tsaheylu so that you might share this burden of pain, but it would only feel heavier as it weighs on both of you. Instead his lips brush against the braided hair for a moment longer before letting it fall between you. 

“Tsmuke.” You’re drawn apart by the sound of Ronal’s voice. She arrives with her arms full, footsteps slowing as she sees Jake by your side. Her eyes turn away but you catch the edge of regret in her eyes. It’s been there in fleeting bouts in the months since the Sullys have begun learning the ways of your clan. She’s slowly grown past her previous misgivings even as things have ended in this way. With the sawtute turning their eyes towards your peaceful home in search of the man seated beside you.

“Jakesully,” she say at last, inclining her head towards him, “may Eywa ease your spirit.” Jake returns her show of respect, touching his brow and extending his hand towards her. 

“Tsmuke,” she says evenly, “you are our tsakarem.” You aren’t the only one but you’re surely the eldest. The most experience and the most respected within the clan. Tsireya has inherited the honor as well with a few others but only one will be named tsahìk when Ronal passes down the mantle. “Will you lead with me tonight?” 

The clan hasn’t suffered a loss this great in many years. Usually only one, perhaps two people are committed to Eywa in such a ceremony but tonight there will be many lives returned to the Great Mother’s hands. Ronal extends her own hand, balancing the basket she’s holding on her hip. She pulls you to stand but Jake doesn’t allow her to take you farther than necessary. His tail coils around your ankle before you can take even a half step away from him. His eyes don’t meet yours when you look down at him and he says nothing as you accept your sister’s request to lead with her. It is your duty to your people no matter the occasion. Eywa has chosen you for this and you can’t turn her back on her when you so desperately need her guidance. 

The sky has turned a deep shade of blue like the darkest depths of the ocean, dotted with pearls of light as stars shine overhead. The village flickers in shades of orange and red, finally stirring after a day of lingering silence. A song lingers on the breeze, the familiar sound of chorus beads and the intimate words of each Na’vi’s life. Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe… You know these words by heart. They’re the words that you sing in your heart as you trace the beads of your own songcord. Your hand finds your hip where you keep the cord wound around your tewng. The beads and crystals, bones and coral that symbolize your life. Jake’s fingers draw over yours before slipping his hand into yours. 

The covering is drawn back by the time you return, Kiri’s voice carrying outside as she sings the beads of Neteyam’s songcord. Jake’s hand tightens in yours as he listens to your daughter sing. Her voice lulls over the last words before your home falls silent once more. All of the children have come to hear Neteyam’s waytelem. Tsireya and Ao’nung have come along with Rotxo as they kneel around Neteyam’s body to hear Kiri sing. Such an honor is only given to those closest to you and everyone here cared deeply for your son. There won’t be another chance to be beside him after this moment. Soon the ceremony will begin and Jake kneels beside him, carefully bundling Neteyam into the ties that you’ve woven. Tsireya offers you a jar of paint in customary white. It’s cold against your skin as Jake drags his fingers from your forehead to your chest. You return the favor, painting each of the children in turn. And when people finally begin to gather in the shallow waters you shrug on the woven shawl Ronal gave you as Kiri straightens the veil upon your head. 

Firelight drifts over the gentle waves as Ronal’s voice rings out across the shore. She calls to Eywa to open her arms to her children, to hold each of them in turn. Your brothers and sisters, each treasured members of the Metkayina are pulled out to sea in their sämunge surrounded by those that were closest. Mother, fathers, siblings, mates, children. Tonowari announces their names as they’re given over to the anemones lighting up the ocean with yellow syuratan. The grasping fronds glow brighter as each body is accepted into the watery earth. Returned to Eywa. 

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.” Tonowari’s voice echoes into the night as you step away from Ronal’s side as she opens her arms to send Neteyam home, joining your family as Jake leads the ilu over the open water. Pale pink flowers trail behind as you carefully pull Neteyam from the woven carrier. His tanhì are still dark, no light glowing from within. There’s nothing left of your heart to break as each of you takes a final moment with him. Jake’s eyes find yours as you hold Neteyam above the water. He isn’t ready, but when will you ever be ready to part with your child? Lo’ak lingers beside you, his hand resting on Neteyam’s head until you and Jake pull him beneath the water. One swaying frond touches his skin, brightening until it’s nearly white. Another and another until they’re pulling him from your hands, wrapping Neteyam in their grasping arms and pulling him deep into their embrace. He disappears all too quickly. Blue skin lost in the sea of yellow. Part of you wants him back but that desperation won’t be quelled by holding his body. Neteyam is gone. Clinging to his body won’t bring back your son. Your tears mingle with the ocean as you linger longer than the others, knowing you’re meant to sing when you rise again. But it is your duty and you must do it. 

“Utralä Anawm ayrina’lu ayoeng.” We are all seeds of the Great Tree. Words you know by heart. Words you’ve sung many times. Words that sting your tongue as you sing them for Neteyam. For all that were lost to the hands of those demons. How had a day like any other darkened so deeply with a storm that seems as if it will never pass. The clouds crowd your mind and darken your heart. It’s cold, and desperately lonely even as you stand beside your sister with the clan at your back. This pain is yours and yours alone. Others have lost those they love but they haven’t lost Neteyam. They haven’t lost those small pieces of him that you would never get back. It feels selfish to feel so anguished, to be so utterly consumed by this darkness of grief. You only had him by your side for a short time, but even so you loved him. He was your son. You were his mother. And now he is gone. 

When the night draws to a close and the People retreat to their homes you find yourself wandering the shore. The ceremonial garbs have been abandoned somewhere behind you. Perhaps slipping carelessly into the sand or maybe you’d given them back to Ronal. You can’t quite remember but the air feels cool against your suddenly bared skin. Your hands run over your arms as you hug them around yourself, feeling the prickles flesh of your cold skin under your fingertips. Despite the slight chill of the night you find yourself wandering further than you have a need to, walking aimlessly until sand turns to dirt underfoot. Burst of blue and green light come to life with each step as the treeline swallows you. The forest holds a different type of silence. The sound of waves breaking over the shore is replaced with the buzzing and chirping of unseen insects and the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. 

Fatigue creeps over you like a tree taking root, threatening to bind you where you stand. Two days you have fighting. The demons and your own grief-stricken mind, and finally it is beginning to take its toll on your body. Each of your footsteps is slower than the last, your legs feeling heavier with every passing moment. The forest is still bright with syuratan that dapples your skin in shades of purple and green but darkness is starting to creep in around you, tears only working to further disrupt your vision. So soon after you’ve been blessed with everything you could ask for it was taken away. The sea gives and the sea takes, no matter when your blessings were received. All life must remain balanced and equal. It is your sole purpose as tsakarem to abide by Eywa’s will, to uphold the Great Mother’s balance. But the mantle feels too heavy to bear at this moment. 

Your feet slip, knees going weak, and fall to the ground. You’ve asked for so little in this life. Never wanting more than that which was given. Your heart never darkened against your sister when she was bestowed the honor of tsahìk. Never once did your happiness falter when those around you were mated and blessed with children. And when finally the tides turn in your favor a wave comes to wash it all away. Your arms tighten around yourself, nails biting into your skin as you curl in on yourself. Content to let this terrible moment pass in the cradle of the forest floor. Now you will allow yourself to grieve, allow the ugly, terrible feelings to overtake you. Your tears seep into the soil as your cheek rests in the dirt. Each breath is gasping and shallow as a weight like a thousand stones threatens to bury your prone body and return you to the earth as well. 

The silence is nearly deafening until it isn’t. The lull of the forest is broken by the sound of something tearing through the trees. Too heavy to be a benign animal, yet too loud to be a hunting predator. There’s a stiffness to your limbs as you try to sit up, rolling to your knees in time to see Lo’ak vaulting over a fallen tree. 

“Sa’nok!” He stumbles to a stop in front of you. 

“Lo’ak? Why are you here?” He should be asleep. 

“Why am I here?” He asks incredulously. “Why are you here? I’ve been looking all over the village for you!” Why are you here? You hadn’t meant to walk so far, to get so lost in your own head. Instead of answering you find your feet and begin walking the way he came. Despite his loud approach Lo’ak has left hardly any trace of his presence aside from the dimming light where his feet had been only moments ago. Veins of syuratan ripple like water through the ground, rising and fading as your son walks beside you. Grass turns to sand and the light of Naranawm washes over both of you. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak finally says, breaking the comfortable silence between you, “I’m sorry about Neteyam.” 

“It was not your fault, Lo’ak.”

“But it was!” He is suddenly in front of you, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I was the one that said we should get Spider. Neteyam saved us and now he is gone because of me.” You hear his words before you speak, turning each one over in your mind. Of course it was not Lo’ak that killed his brother. He loved Neteyam. You raise his head with a hand under his chin, nearly drowning in the amount of guilt shining in his yellow eyes. 

“It is no fault of yours, maitan. Many lives were lost. No one is to blame except the demons from the sky. They brought this storm upon us, not you.” He pulls away from you, pacing in the sand. It seems he won’t allow his guilt to dissipate so easily. You sigh and close your eyes, turning to the Great Mother for guidance. It’s a lesson you learned as tsakarem. Eywa speaks when thoughts are quiet and hearts are open. 

Somewhere in the wind there’s a whisper of her voice. It’s a simple breeze brushing through the mangroves but you hear more. Somewhere in the stillness of your focus you hear the sound of a tulkun singing, slow and mournful. The same song that filled the air as you and Ronal laid Roa to rest yet the voice in your head isn’t as deep, still light with youth. A young tulkun mourning its mother. And then more. Many more. Na’vi and tulkun, all dead in bloodstained water. One remains, a single voice. Payakan. Your eyes jump open as if you’ve been struck. Eywa’s meaning is clear as the stars overhead as you look at your son. Lo’ak is still pacing and muttering to himself. 

“But if I hadn’t asked… if I’d left Spider–”

“Neteyam might’ve died even still. Perhaps not on the demon ship but those ayvrrtep were everywhere in the water. What did you tell me when you bonded with Payakan?” His feet finally come to a stop as he thinks over it. 

“Those Na’vi died, but it wasn’t Payakan that killed them. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.” 

“And neither were you. We are not tulkun. Their way is not our law. I know Neteyam’s death is heavy on your heart, but it is not your fault, maitan. Who is to say he would not have been struck by their metal arrows later. It is the sawtute that should carry this guilt.” He sniffles and nods, eyes still staring at the sand, then he lets out a watery laugh. 

“Bullets.” 

Your ear twitches, “What?”

“The metal arrows are called ‘bullets.’” You taste the foreign word on your tongue. It’s your deepest hope that you will never have to say the word again, but it’s a naive thought. War has come to Awa’atlu and it will not end until every hostile human on Pandora is dead. But these are worries for another day. War is a heavy burden and you are barely carrying the weight of your son’s death. You draw Lo’ak into your arms and press a kiss to the top of his head. He smells like the ocean and home. It makes your heart long for the comfort of your family, of your mate’s warmth and the sound of Tuk’s purring snores. You’re tired and you both should sleep but for a moment more you find yourself standing still as Lo’ak wets your skin with silent tears. 

The horizon is hidden behind the silhouette of the seawall. A small piece of protection around the village. But somewhere beyond, over the horizon yet far closer than they should be, the humans are lurking deep in the forest. Or perhaps they’re even closer, building a nest for themselves on some island just out of sight. The threat is great but you’re already so tired. Tired of the fighting and the death that it brings. It makes you wonder how tired Jake must be. 

He doesn’t look peaceful even as he sleeps. His face is pinched, brows drawn tight as you finally lay down beside him. Lo’ak finds his own bedroll, the place next to him occupied by Spider instead of Neteyam. When you lay down Jake stirs just long enough to wrap his arm around you before falling still once more, and you wake to the feeling of his tail slipping from its place curled over your thigh. 

The sky is already alight with light far past a blushing dawn. Voices and sounds float in from beyond the open marui as village life moves on. One day at a time. A first step and then a second until you’ll lose count and look back to see how far you’ve come. The pain will linger. A familiar smell or a comforting melody might bring echoes of pain to the surface like ripples across still water, but with time your heart will heal if you don’t allow the grief still clinging like a second skin to consume you. Just one step, one day. 

Kiri kneels next to the cookfire, turning over carved skewers of fish. Lo’ak is missing as is Tuk, but you can hear her voice somewhere nearby, giggling and splashing in the shallow waters. Spider lingers in the shadiest part of your home, knees curled up to his knees as he watches Kiri cook. He’s uncomfortable, you can tell just in his posture. Pulled up tight into himself as if he will disappear from view if he can make himself small enough. He seems almost ashamed of himself, of everything that he is. He seems so like your children and yet no amount of warpaint will hide his true nature. Still, you quell the animosity still festering deep inside you. There is no time to dwell on darkness. If you stay still and wallow in these feelings, you’ll be lost. 

“Good morning.” It’s a tentative extension of kindness, kinder than the few words you’d had for him yesterday. Spider raises his head, eyes darting between Kiri and Jake as if your eyes aren’t resting pointedly on his face. Kiri returns your greeting, murmuring about Lo’ak having already left to tend to his chores. It’s a distraction for him, you’re sure. It is easy to forget yourself in the needs of the many. You imagine it’s why Kiri is cooking. Busy hands, quiet minds. 

“Good morning.” Spider says at last. It is enough. One step. You rise with Jake as he stands to leave. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to speak with Tonowari.” His face is guarded, eyes clouded as he tries to hide his intentions from you. He’s pulling away and you reach for him. It’s instinctual. He is your mate, your love, and you want to stand beside him. 

“Ma Jake, what is wrong?” So much is wrong, so much hurts. You want to bear this burden with him. Let me, you want to say. Spiritual burdens are something you were taught to See. The bond between Jake and the Great Mother still holds strong, the rope has not frayed. Eywa has not abandoned him and he has not turned his back on her. So what is so wrong that he would hide his eyes from you? He doesn’t explain himself as you trail behind him, hand still in his. You pull hard, planting your feet against the path until he can go no further without letting you go. He hesitates before his hand falls away from your own. For a moment it feels as though the world has fallen away completely, that there’s nothing left to ground you now that he’s pulled away. Anxiety rushes through you like bitter poison, pricking over every inch of your skin as tears begin to burn in your eyes. His rejection stings more than any other you’ve felt in your life. Every terrible thought rushes to the surface all at once. 

“Jake?” Your voice wobbles as your arms hang limply at your sides. His shoulders rise and fall with a heaving sigh before he turns to face you. 

“Ma muntxate.” His hands find your face and you, thumbs brushing over the shape of your cheeks. There’s conflict in his eyes, uncertainty, as if he is standing at the edge of a cliff wondering which way he should step. Away from danger. Away from whatever is causing him so much strife. The look in his eye is different than the pain you saw yesterday. It isn’t the futile longing of a father. It’s something more resigned. Whatever he wants to tell Tonowari, it shadows any of his own feelings. 

“Don’t.” You say quietly. “Please, don’t. Whatever you are thinking, please, don’t do it.” He’s heard your words but doesn’t seem to take them into his heart. Instead he presses his forehead against yours. The world falls quiet for a brief moment. You feel grounded once more even as Jake pulls away with no intention to heed your words. 

“Nga yawne lu oer.” And he means it. There’s no glint of deception in his eyes. Jake loves you as you love him and yet something inside you feels as though you’re losing him. Each step he takes away is like a thread straining and if you don’t follow it will break. His pace is slow as if he dreads what he is about to do. All it would take is a moment’s hesitation. If he would just turn around it would quell the panic rising in your heart. 

Tonowari and Ronal rise as they see the two of you coming towards them. Jake trudging somberly with you quick at his heels. Ronal looks between the two of you, setting aside the spear arrow in her hand. 

“What is this?” She asks before Tonowari can speak. Jake swallows thickly before he answers.  

“My family and I, we’ll move on tomorrow. Far away from here.” Ronal takes a half step away from him as if moved off balance by his words. You feel the same. A weakness builds in your knees as you try to step towards him, to see his face, his eyes, and know what he is thinking. This is his home. Your home. He has built a life for his family–your family–here. You’d promised to follow him, but hearing the words makes you realize the path you’ve laid for yourself. A new life in a new place, far from anything you’ve ever known. Wherever you go it will be a place your previous life cannot follow. Ronal, Tonowari, the children, your spirit sister. They’d all be left behind. The thread begins to break. 

Tonowari nods but it is a gesture you’ve come to recognize as disapproval. He is acknowledging Jake’s words but he will not heed them. 

“Your son lies with our ancestors. You are mated with our tsakarem. This is your home.”

“Now you must stand with us. As our brother.” Ronal’s voice is steadfast though Jake still seems to hesitate even before the words of his tsahìk and olo’eyktan.

“I caused all of this. They were looking for me, for my family.” 

“And we are here.” Ronal’s voice echoes your own as the two of you speak in tandem. 

“You are Metkayina now.” Tonowari extends his hand expectantly. Jake looks at it, then at you. As if trying to decide if this is truly what he wanted. A moment passes before he clasps Tonowari’s forearm, committing himself to his place within the clan. With time, when Jake has fully committed his heart to the Metkayina, he might become eyktanay and stand beside Tonowari. The clan needs his guidance now more than ever. War is inevitable. All that’s left now is to prepare for the coming storm. He’s quiet as you walk away, aimless steps weaving through the village paths. 

“I’m sorry,” he says at last, “I don’t want to abandon you. I want you by my side. You are my mate; I love you. But I have to protect the People. I can’t let anyone get hurt because of me.”

“These things we cannot decide. It is up to the will of Eywa who lives and who dies. The Great Mother’s balance is out of our hands. All life must be returned to death sooner or later.” It hurts to say the words and know that your son was among those taken into the Great Mother’s arms. It was far before his time if you could’ve chosen it. He would’ve lived a long life, far beyond your own and died with the legacy of a great warrior. With a mate and children of his own and many beads to sing of his waytelem. But it was not meant to be. Neteyam is gone and you miss him more than anything but he would not want this. He would not want his father, the mighty Toruk Makto, to give up this fight. Jake was like the brightest star in Neteyam’s sky, a place so high he could only ever hope to reach. His greatest wish was to be a warrior resembling his Jake. You will not allow him to abandon his son’s dream even in his absence. 

“Eywa has not abandoned you, ma Jake, so you will not abandon us.” He nods but his eyes are shrouded with a fog of sadness. Grief does not pass easily and you don’t expect this wound to heal within a day, a year, or even a lifetime. You’ve lost people in your life. Great warriors and clan elders. Thinking of them is like pressing against a bruise. It pangs and throbs but soon you will forget until you touch it once more. Neteyam’s parting is still fresh in your mind, weighing heavy on your heart. 

“I miss him so much.” There are no words to placate the pain in his voice. “I just want to see him again. Just once.” 

The desperate wish leads the two of you to the Ranteng Utralti. It will not be a true reunion. Not in the way Jake wants, but it will be something. Neteyam still lives within Eywa. His vitra has not been lost even in death. 

The sun is still high overhead, poking beams of white light through the water as the two of you dive towards the Spirit Tree. The fronds seem to beckon your arrival as they sway in the tide, tossing patches of purple light across your skin. You’re still wearing your mourning garbs, your paint, your veil. It seems fitting as the two of you lock eyes. Jake’s hand reaches for yours, squeezing tight as you both make tsaheylu with the Spirit Tree. One moment you feel yourself floating, water all around you, but it fades in an instant, swallowed by a swirl of flashing light that fades first to green and then to more defined shapes. Leaves, a forest. It’s only vaguely recognizable, just different enough from the forest of your home to know you’re far from Awa’atlu, returned to the Pandora jungle once more. 

There are voices among the sounds of rustling leaves and chittering animals. The sun is warm against your skin as you trail towards the sound, wide tail brushing against the plants around you. A warmth unfolds in your heart as you peek around a tree and find Jake kneeling next to a stream, a young boy at his side. At once you know it’s your son. His smile is just the same as it was as he offers his little bow to Jake. It’s beautiful in a way only Eywa can provide. A peaceful piece of perfection, a sweet dream to tide over an ailing heart. You’re content to watch them but a sound draws your attention, an ear flicking towards the noise. It doesn’t seem to disturb Neteyam or Jake and you wonder if they even know you’re here just beyond sight. Perhaps you’re at the very fringe of Jake’s vision, peering in from the outside. You leave him to it, attention drawn towards the sound of a woman singing. The forest changes around you, wavering like air above a fire as you walk a seemingly long distance in only a few strides and stumble upon a marui. It’s large, much too big for its single occupant, and woven with the intricacy expected of an Omatikaya dwelling. 

“If you have time to stand and watch you should come help.” She interrupts her singing to finally look up at you and her face is striking. Round eyes, full lips, and her pil slant upward in a way that makes her features seem sharper. And there’s a sense of familiarity within her features, as if you’ve seen her somewhere before, like a memory faded with time. You stare at her even as she hands you a stone bowl, expecting that you’ll begin to grind cycad seeds. It usually isn’t your place to make such preparations but you are a guest in this woman’s home and she wouldn’t know if you are better suited preparing meat rather than flour. Still it is the same as preparing plants for medicines, an easy enough task, though you nearly drop the bowl when she asks who you are. But it’s hardly a question as your name rolls off her tongue. 

“That is your name, yes? Neteyam has spoken highly of you since he arrived.” There’s a bitter tinge to her tone. For a moment you think it’s directed at you as you finally recognize her face. It’s Neteyam’s face if only older, more feminine. This is his mother. Jake’s first mate. Your chin tucks towards your chest as you try to hide within the dark cloud of your curls, shrinking behind the curtain of your hair. Perhaps you had wrongly interpreted Eywa’s will. Perhaps you were not meant to mate with Jake. It had been a selfish thought just as you’d worried, inconsiderate to the woman waiting for him here. She curses under her breath and your fangs bite into your lip to keep from apologizing before she’s said her piece. 

“I give my life to protect my children and still it is not enough. Faysawtute.” Her chopping begins to gain vigor, scoring the wooden slab as she goes. “I kill him and he lives even still. When will it end?” Finally she looks up at you. 

“Are the children safe? Kiri, Tuk, Lo’ak? I have not seen them here. They have to be safe.” She is trying to hide her desperation, you can tell by the pinched doing of her voice, but her eyes cannot hide from you. She is terrified that more of her children will be delivered to her soon. 

“They are safe. They’re all safe.” The tension leaves her shoulders. 

“That is good. And Jake?”

“He is with Neteyam now. He might come to see you soon…” your voice trails off as you realize he never told you her name. In his quest to keep you from questioning his devotion he has hidden a piece of himself. She will always be a part of him and it is not your place to begrudge him that. It is because of her that you have the family he’s given you. She deserves your unyielding respect as the mother that came before you. 

“Neytiri,” she sounds almost amused by your ignorance. “Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite.” She sets aside her cooking and reaches for you, her hands finding yours once you set aside the bow of ground seeds. “I’ve heard of you and your sister Ronal. A skilled tsahìk and her tsahìknay.” 

Tsahìknay. No one had ever called you such a thing. It was always tsakarem; a tsahìk that never finished her training and earned the honored title of clan leader. That was your sister, that was Ronal. She was tsahìk and yet you’re still treated with such respect within the clan. Even Ronal defers to your guidance at times. Was it not you that told her to allow the Sullys to stay? Before the clan she reminded you of her authority, but she is your elder sister. It has always been her guiding you and giving orders. Of course she would bristle at her word being questioned before the clan, before outsiders. And yet she allowed it. Even Jake had acknowledged your place upon first meeting. He called you tsakarem just as the rest of the clan did. It’s a title for a child not yet completing their rites to become one with the People, but what else were they meant to call you. Rarely does a clan have more than one tsahìk. But just as Eywa has blessed Jake it seems she has chosen you for something as well. Why else would you be blessed to See things as you do? 

You See and yet you are blind. Ronal has told you this more than once in your life. It was meant as a reminder. To look clearly at things as they truly are. The shadows retreat and you see at last. You were never lacking, never less than. You are equal. Second to none. 

Neytiri smiles, “A clan with two tsahìks must be blessed. I am glad it is you that he has chosen. My children will grow up well.” Her hand presses to your chest, palm against the tattoo inked over your heart. It means loving, protective. These are words you live by. 

“Oel ngati kameie,” she says with gentle reverence. Your name sounds like a prayer on her tongue. “You have a strong heart. I trust it to take care of everyone that we love.” Even when you’ve failed to protect Neteyam she has given her blessing to look after her mate, her children. Your mate, your children. You move to bow but she meets you halfway, pressing her forehead against yours just as Jake would. You aren’t taking her place. Tsaheylu bonds your body and soul. She is a part of Jake just as much as you are, so she is now a part of you. 

When your eyes open the marui is suddenly full of white light. And though you’ve never seen a forest atokirina’ you recognize the delicate creatures at once. There’s something calming about the presence of the pure spirits. Their syuratan is different from the yellow glow of the tree spirits of your home but they still feel gentle as a kiss when they caress your skin. One lands and then another. Neytiri reaches out her hand as one dances over her palm. She holds the bouncing sprite in her hands, white light dancing in her eyes as they fill with a rueful sadness.  

“When I died, I was afraid. I knew I was dead the moment my eyes opened. My sister, my father, Tsu’tey. Everyone I had lost was here to greet me within Eywa. But I was afraid for my family.” She lifts her hands and gently blows on the atokirina’. It swirls through the air, threadlike tendrils swirling about before it finds the breeze and floats away with the others. They leave in a shimmering cloud just as quickly as they came. When you turn back to Neytiri she’s smiling. “I’m not afraid anymore.” 

For a moment you think you’re crying as her face begins to swirl into a wash of color like spilled paint, but when you blink it away the vision is gone and you’re staring at the Ranteng Utralti once more. Jake’s hand is still tight in yours as his eyes open as well. When you surface you find that you were crying, tears streaming down your cheeks along with the seawater as you mount your ilu. 

“What’s wrong, yuey?” 

“I saw her, Jake.” A smile finds its way to your face despite the tears. Your heart flutters in your chest, beating heavily where her hand had been. Your skin seems to sing as you touch your tattoo as if her hand would still be there. 

“Saw who?” 

“Neytiri.” His eyes go wide, ears standing on end. Behind him his tail perks up, curling anxiously as he sits on his own ilu. It has always been his greatest fear that you would seek out knowledge about his mate. He knows you, knows your heart. You would have compared yourself to her, belittle and bemoaned your every flaw until you felt like nothing by comparison. But that isn’t the truth of it. There is no comparison. He chose her. He chose you. Jake values both of you just the same in his heart. There is no superior. You see that now. See it more clearly than you ever have. 

“Why are you crying? What happened?” Sharing what you’ve seen while connected to the Spirit Tree is always an intimate experience. Tsaheylu is sacred, and what’s seen while communing with Eywa is always a look into someone’s soul. But you do it every time you meet someone’s eye. Jake’s vitra is plainly clear in his eyes. The bittersweet feeling of being able to catch even a glimpse of his son, to relive the memories that he cherishes and know that’s all that will be now. Just memories. 

“She called me tsahìknay, said I was blessed. We were touched by atokirina’.” The Great Mother’s has not been subtle with her intentions on this day. You are meant to be by Jake’s side, just as Neytiri was before you. And Jake is meant to be by your side. To part would be to spite the blessings Eywa has given you. There was a reason you were not mated before. He is the reason. This is the reason. You were not meant for Tonowari, not meant for any man in Awa’atlu. This is the path Eywa has drawn for your life. It has not been without its hardships and there will surely be more to come–more death, more destruction–but the only way is forward. The storm will come and you will weather it. One step at a time. For now, though, you return home, listening to Jake recount his time with Neteyam. Their fishing and climbing trees. He sounds younger, a quiet smile in his voice. His spirit is lifted if only for the moment. 

“She would’ve loved you.” He says at last. “I wish I’d told you that sooner.” There’s so much he hasn’t told you, so much you’ve yet to learn. A sharp pain pinches in your chest as you think of Neteyam and all the things that died with him, all the things you’ll never know about your son. Part of you wishes you had seen him with Eywa, had a chance to speak with him, but the Great Mother doesn’t always show you what you want to see but what needs to be seen. 

“She said she trusts me to take care of our family.” Jake smiles and for a moment he looks like himself again. His face isn’t drawn with sadness but bright with a satisfied grin. 

“I know she does, because I do. This family is our fortress and I trust you to protect it. No matter what happens.”

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Tawtute, Sawtute – sky person, sky people

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Tsmuke’ite – niece (speculative)

Hì’ikran – dorado verde, small ikran (speculative)

Sämunge – transportation device

Eyktanay – a step below clan leader

Waytelem – songcord

Ranteng Utralti – Spirit Tree

Vitra, Tirea – soul, spirit

Vrrtep – demon

Tswin – neural braid

Muntxate – wife, female mate

Maitan – (my) son

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker, avatar

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Tsahìknay – a step below tsahìk (speculative)

Yuey – beautiful (inner beauty)

[cosmicmatter]

Types of Triggers

Following you will find an explanation of different types of triggers.

Time-related triggers. 

You may have heard of “anniversary reactions,” in which a person has a predictable and involuntary reaction on or around the anniversary of a traumatizing event. This experience is most well known in people who have intense grief reactions each year around the anniversary of the loss of a loved one. But anniversary reactions may be evoked for a wide variety of other events. At first, you may not recognize an anniversary reaction, but you or your therapist may begin to notice that you, for instance, become depressed, or very anxious, or feel suicidal around the same time each year, time after time. 

Time-related triggers may also involve a time of day or a particular period of time, such as weekends or holidays (see also chapter 16). For example,  some traumatized people may become increasingly fearful and anxious as it becomes dark each evening, related to overwhelming experiences that may have occurred around that time.

Place-related triggers. 

Many people find it hard to return to places where they were abused or had other highly distressing experiences. This avoidance can generalize to other places that remind them of the original situation, prompting them to evade more places and experiences to prevent triggering. For example, if a person had been robbed or assaulted on a bus, he or she might be inclined to avoid all busses. And eventually, this person may come to avoid any public transportation, including trains, trams, and planes. 

Many traumatized people regularly report that they are upset or overwhelmed by crowded spaces, such as shopping malls, long checkout lines, or crowded waiting rooms. Their aversion often has nothing to do with a traumatic memory, but rather they feel overstimulated and trapped, which may be similar to inner experiences they felt during traumatic events in the past. Even though some parts may be triggered by certain places, other parts may not be; they may even enjoy, for example, riding in the train or flying, or being at the mall. These contradictory experiences may set up internal conflicts, because some parts may dismiss or even be unaware that a trigger is problematic for other parts.

Relational triggers. 

Relationships themselves are often triggers. Relationships and any perceived threat to them evoke the most powerful feelings in everyone, for better or worse. When you have been mistreated by others, intense feelings of abandonment, rejection, humiliation, shame, panic, yearning, and rage are often easily triggered by the minor ups and downs that are a natural part of even the best of relationships. And when a serious relational disruption occurs, it can feel catastrophic. Some parts of you may always be on guard, looking out for any cues that perhaps you are being rejected or criticized, and thus they may overlook important cues to the contrary. Others may desperately seek out relationships, not attending to whether they are healthy (see chapters 28 and 29 for more about relationships). Many patients with complex dissociative disorders rightly felt criticized, lonely, and misunderstood as children. Anger or critical remarks by a partner or a friend in the present may quickly give rise to a partial reliving of old experiences, such as intense fear of being abandoned or misunderstood, or fear that you cannot speak your mind without terrible consequences.

Internal triggers.

People who have a dissociative disorder have typically learned to avoid much of their inner experience in order to avoid traumatic memories (see chapter 5). Any inner experience may be triggering, such as the sound of another part talking or yelling, certain emotions (anxiety, anger or shame, and so forth), sensations (such as pain, sweating), needs (such as wanting to be comforted), or thoughts (such as “I wish I was dead” or “I am not happy in this relationship”). Some parts may even provoke other parts as an internal reenactment of old experiences. For example, a highly critical part might scream that you are stupid when you are trying your best to cope with a difficult problem at work. This inner experience may be quite similar to some you may have had as a child. 

Sensory triggers. 

Body sensations are a particular type of internal trigger. These may resemble similar sensations that occurred around the time of a traumatizing event. Smells are particularly potent triggers. Other sensations include pain, the racing heart and breathlessness of anxiety, feeling too hot or cold, nausea, thirst, hunger, stomachache, the need to eliminate, or even certain body postures. Some women may be triggered by the sensations that accompany menstruation. The sense of being touched by another person may be especially triggering from some individuals.

Triggers for Positive Experiences

Triggers are usually thought of as negative, but some triggers evoke positive feelings and memories. For example, looking at pictures of a nice holiday that you enjoyed, the smell or taste of a specific food, or particular music may all evoke positive memories and feelings of contentment or warmth. Positive triggers are important because they can help you find some enjoyment and calmness in the present. In fact, your personal anchors are positive triggers that help you stay in the present.

Coping With Trauma Related Dissociation

[hauntingofhouses]

the duality of mizu and taigen is what gets me so bad. not duality as in how contrasting they are as individuals. because as i've said before they're both incredibly similar actually; both their flaws are rooted in the way their self-hatred manifests by compelling them to behave cruelly to others. however their personalities and worldviews contrast; mizu is quiet/reserved and individualistic while taigen is loud/dramatic and collectivist.

but here in this specific context, what i'm referring to when i say "duality," is the duality inherent to their relationship and how they relate to one another and have this twisted hate-love with each other.

the way they both confuse love with violence. because violence is the only thing the both of them have ever known.

taigen's obsession to kill her is twisted with his attraction to her. his possessiveness over her death morphs into protectiveness.

mizu's first spark of desire for him ignites when he is actively aggressive, hitting her in her freshly-healed wounds.

they bond over a near-death experience in the chasm. they see themselves in each other through their shared passion for swordsmanship—their shared skill in taking lives. taigen sacrifices himself for her constantly and mizu saves him every time. they hate each other but wordlessly and effortlessly synchronise to fight against common enemies (okiyama the giant; the archers; fowler).

defence and violence; affection and aggression. for these two they might as well be the same thing. and looking at their childhoods you don't have to wonder why. both of them were abused as children. both of them have been fighting tooth-and-nail all their lives. all they've ever known is violence and cruelty, and learning to enact those things themselves so they can pave their way through the world, even if it leaves piles of dead behind them.

they both want softness though. they both want happiness. taigen says as much at the end of the season, and for mizu, it's an integral part of her entire arc of wanting peace, happiness, and love.

and again that's part of the duality i'm getting at. they're well trained killers, but they both just want a life of peace and joy. they're so bad for each other but they're perfect for each other. they hate each other but they love each other. they're an intrinsic part of each other's lives. dare i bring up the concept of a red string of fate? a string they both constantly gnaw on and wish to strangle each other with?

[brucewaynehater101]

Since so many of y'all asked [nobody did. I just think I'm funny], here's songs for your playlist when writing toxic relationships:

[Also, the songs are from multiple genres.

TW for toxic relationships, abuse, etc.]

"My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra

For when a character is so obsessed by another character that they can not live or function without that person.

"I Love You Like An Alcoholic" by The Taxpayers

Two singers chatting about how in love they are, how they want "one last kiss," how they need each other like one needs an injury, and how the love each other in the broken, toxic way of alcoholics. It's mutual acknowledgement of how fucked up they are but still wanting to be together

"Hell and You" by Amigo the Devil

A character would go anywhere with the other person, even hell. All that person needs to do is ask. Basically, it gives vibes of two people dancing and staring into each others' eyes as the world burns around them. That's part of the excitement, though.

"Tongues and Teeth" by The Crane Wives

The character is cruel and wicked, but it's all they have. It's all they can offer. If the other person wants to be in a relationship with someone who will hurt them, then okay. They can. The character warns them not to, but they're not going to stop them either. It's not going to end well, but the character let's the other person dictate what their relationship will be. Not once does the character apologize for being the way they are, just warns the other against it.

"No Children" by The Mountain Goats

The singer continues to hope for bad scenarios, such as getting injured, lying, leaving, relationships falling apart, never getting sober, etc. They compare their relationship to drowning, but they're doing it together. It's practically hate

"Chase The Feeling" by The Devil Makes Three

The other person continues their addiction despite it destroying their life. The character seems to have given up on the person and is using humor to cope with the fact that the other person won't get better

"Allies or Enemies" by The Crane Wives

Pretty much the title. Are they on the same side? They have good memories with each other, but they keep fighting as well. This constant uncertainty will kill them.

"Absence" by Rio Romeo

The character wants to know what their lover would do if they disappeared. Would their lover search for them? Disappear with them? Or let them leave without going after them?

"Saint Bernard" by Lincoln

Put on this list for the lyrics "I said make me love myself so that I might love you. Don't make me a liar. Because I swear to God, when I said it, I thought it was true."

"YKWIM?" by Yot Club

The character loves someone who doesn't love or seem to care about them. The character cares too much and they're alone

"loving me is really hard" by NEYSA

The character is cruel and confusing to their loved one. They like watching them cry but still want to be with them

"Nothing's New" by Rio Romeo

The character has been through relationships over and over again and knows the pattern of when they start to fall apart. Their heart is worn, but they love their partner. They want to hold on for however long is left.

"The Bidding" by Tally Hall

The character learned to sell their love/attention to the rich. They make people feel special and loved for a price. As long as they are paid, they will never let the other person down

"I Can't Decide" by Scissor Sisters

Manic laughter and "I can't decide whether you should live or die." Just very toxic deliberating on whether to kill their loved one

"This is Love" by Air Traffic Control

The POV of the abuser in a domestic abuse relationship. They are blaming the other person or anything but themselves, they are preventing the other from seeing anyone else, continually reinforcing that "this is love," and threatening them. It showcases a cycle of abuse and common tactics used

"The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer

Basically, the character yearns to be physically hurt by their loved one.

"Misery Meat" by Sodikken

The character gives every piece of their flesh to their loved one. Through their pain, their loved one can gain so much

"Stalker's Tango" by Autoheart

The character demands the other person to love them

"How I'd Kill" by Cowboy Malfoy

The character is so obsessed by the other person that they would even kill just to see the other person. They talk about how they've never felt anything like that before

"CONTROL BABY" by Jhariah

This is more about toxic relationships with parents. "You're not the son I raised!"

[valar-did-me-wrong]

Adar thoughts if you're up!!

Who do you think Adar would have seen as a co-parent if he saw himself as father of Orcs and Uruk? Mairon himself? another fallen avari? would Galadriel be able to overcome the challenges to go into that role if Adar desired it, or is she too "anti-Orc" for that? Or is he just a single parent?

And if he had/does live into the Third Age, what would his feelings and attitude towards Saruman be?

Ooooooooo interesting questions!! (Sorry for not replying right away, asks just dumb me down everytime 🙈)

I'd like to start by saying in my head when I think of Adar this is how I see these questions answered & I bet a lot of amazing fan fic writers & meta discussions have influenced most of these opinions..

1. Who do you think Adar sees as a co-parent if he sees himself as father of Uruks?

I believe he alone was not the sole father of the Uruks, he's just the last surviving one. I believe all of the Moriondor were involved in the process & Sauron was not physically involved in the process (Adar might have held love for Sauron in the beginning but I believe Sauron despises the Uruk too much to be involved in birthing them in any sense. He was just the mastermind evil scientist breaking elven biologies and bodies enough to create Uruk from them)

I see it as a few dozens of Uruk descending from each Moriondor and then interbreeding among themselves there after.

The other Moriondor mustn't have been strong enough to survive through the ages, or something prevented Adar from dying off like them (maybe Sauron's favour because he was obsessed with him or just his grit & resilience which might have made Morgoth to consider him for a bigger role in his army!)

So I believe he sees himself and the other Moriondors as co-parents while they survived and then himself as a single parent..

Whichever poor elleths were involved in the process (which must have been torturous for them and Adar both because my Adar is not a sadist & I'll die on this hill) he believes them more as victims than willing parents and is confident they must hate the children born out of their unions just as much as they must hate their abusers the Moriondor & the dark lords.

2. Would Galadriel be able to overcome the challenges to go into that role if Adar desired it or is she too anti orc for that?

Let me put on my Adariel tinfoil hat & scream out how much I LOVE THEM real quick! 👀

Okay, so the way he forgave Galadriel for the uruk-killings I fully believe that means he would have let her take that role eventually.

Though I think that would have taken an age on both sides to learn & let go. And more than that for the Uruks to accept her. But as Second age is a tragedy, I don't think the Uruk could have been saved in canon 2nd age even if Adar is saved.

(ofcourse in a fix it they are saved! In my fix it the Uruks & Adar have Mordor, they have successful trades starting up & Sauron is shipped away to Valinor)

3. And if he had/does live into the Third Age, what would his feelings and attitude towards Saruman be?

Hmmm now there are two places he can live in till 3rd age, either Rivendell or Lothlorien.

(though for the show's story I'd have planned his death in the Battle of Last Alliance but JD & Patrick cowarded out maybe because of the time limit.. though Adar living to see Bilbo is my fix it fantasy ngl)

In both the scenarios and all of shipping & non shipping perspectives, I believe Adar's behaviour to Saruman & Gandalf would be pretty much the same.

He would distrust them & judge them personally for a long while because he has a lot of experince of Maiar which was horrible! I think eventually he will hear of Gandalf's friendships with mortals who seem not exactly men & those stories warm him up to Gandalf.

But Saruman's personality always reminds him of Mairon so he never really gets too comfortable with him & is the first one to doubt him when signs start to show.

[morticafrump]

⠀🌿 ׁ ׅ ⠀being a 12yr victor headcanons ୨୧

❤︎ ⸻ fem!reader, victor!reader, mentions of giving alcohol to a minor, mentions of trauma related to the hunger games ᭄᭡ tags : @millie-mei , @bravo4iscool

literally none of them know what to do with you

"you want a beer?"

"she's twelve?!"

"well I don't know what to do with her!"

finnick understands you the best as he won his games young too

still, there's a pretty big age gap

cecelia introduces you too her children and treats you like one of them

they quickly start seeing you as a sibling as well

mags & annie teach you how to swim

they start of strong but it quickly turns into a water fight

one of them is always holding your hand

they'll guide you away from all the creeps whenever you're in the capitol

they've all embarrassed themselves at some point trying to be more relatable for you 😭

you go to dinner one day and one of them is dressed like this :

the careers try to keep you healthy

they don't want you to get addicted too anything so they get annoyed when chaff and haymitch give you alcohol

there's been a lot of arguments, especially with chaff sneaking you alcohol under the table

cashmere tries her best to make sure you always look nice

but she also knows how stressful being a victor can be and how sometimes you don't want to focus on things like that

so she leaves you alone

beetee and wiress try their hardest to teach you about the devices their making but eventually give up and just let you have fun with the ones that are completed

the morphlings 100% teach you how to paint

they're not all that bothered about mess and don't really care if you keep messing up

they just want you too have fun and feel at peace

beetee is always coming up with little gadgets for you

there's always aesthetically pleasing, being your favorite colours and having little decorations on them

they teach you how to play whatever games panem has

it's honestly great as you get to see every district and it's culture

while most victors only see their own and maybe that of any victors their close with

you get too see all the districts frequently and learn about it's differences

you're very popular in both the capitol and the districts

all the victors try and protect you from the capitol's claws

but there are some things they just can't protect you from

so instead they try and come up with ways for you to cope

most of them is just drug abuse

but some of them can be helpful

I fully believe that mags remembers lucy gray and would tell you (or write depending on how bad her speech is) about her, even if you aren't from district 12

the victors that do still train frequently will try and teach you their specialty

brutus especially loves to train with you and tries to teach you how to throw a spear (key word: tries)

finnick teaches you how to use a trident

he also teaches you how to fish when you both have free time

you really do bring them all together 😭

even the victors who don't like each other get along for your sake

they all start meeting up frequently with you

which means a lot of victors who didn't even know each other that well are now seeing each other frequently

they try not to bring up the games anyway but there's an unspoken rule not to bring them up when you're around

anyone (typically brutus) who mentions the games in front of you will have a harsh slap against the back of their head from cecelia or mags

when katniss and peeta win their games, they practically adopt you

it doesn't matter if you're now older then they are

you are literally their child

katniss teaches you how to hunt and peeta teaches you how to bake

peeta will draw little pictures of you 😭😭😭

katniss will sing to you whenever you have nightmares or can't sleep and it always calms you down

when the quarter quell is announced they all worry for you

they all have their little plans to keep you safe even if it means sacrificing themselves

both katniss and finnick hear your screams during the jabberjay section 🥺

you probably end up with the career pack in the beginning until cashmere and gloss' death in which you're seperated from brutus and enobaria and most likely stay with the others

after katniss blows up the arena you're taken by the capitol

every single victor left is worrying sick for you

beetee's main concern is getting you out, and he tries to come up with ways too break into the capitol as soon as possible

katniss shuts down completely and refuses to do anything until coin promises to get you out as soon as possible (and give you pardon)

finnick is losing it too, he blames himself for not making sure you were with him when katniss blew up the arena

meanwhile, peeta is constantly worrying about you

every scream, moan, grunt that comes from the direction of your cell sends him into a frenzy

johanna is constantly threatening the guards to leave you alone

annie can't stand the sounds of your cries and always has her ears covered

what happens after your rescue depends on whether or not you're hijacked like peeta :

if you're hijacked :

katniss is way more motivated to bring you back then she is with peeta

she's constantly speaking to your doctors and even comes up with her own little methods to try and bring the real you back

you spend most of your time with beetee, peeta, and johanna with them all trying to help you

though their methods are very different

finnick and annie visit you often and annie teaches you how to play 'real or not real'

which you then start doing with katniss

your recovery is quicker then peeta's as you have the support of the others more then he does

if you're not hijacked :

katniss spends most of her time with you

you visit peeta daily and are a huge help in his therapy process

you're the one who comes up with the idea of peeta decorating annie's and finnick's wedding cake

after the rebellion you probably move to live with one of them

most likely haymitch or beetee

you visit annie a lot after she has her baby and help her as much as you can

you continue to share the memories of your fellow victors

and most likely have a similar book too katniss where you keep everything that reminds you of them

(will do more parts if you guys want me too. Like specific victors with reader rather than just them all. I also plan on doing another where I add my oc's but idk when I'll post that)