#must. hold in. the urge to kith.

[seelestia]

w-why is hoyoverse putting him so close to the camera like. (low quality shots of a high quality man <3)

[hardynwa]

BCD reguests the arrest of Sanusi, 51 others to face terrorism charges over attack on Ortom

The Benue Coalition for Democracy, BCD has called for the arrest of former Emir of Kano, Sanusi Lamido and other Fulani elites over alleged attacks on the state governor, Samuel Ortom. DAILY POST reports that Ortom and the former Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, CBN had traded blames over the unfortunate killing of over forty Fulani herders in Akwanaja, Doma Local Government Area of Nasarawa State. Sanusi had in a viral video made an attempt to drag Governor Ortom to the unfortunate incidence where herdsmen were killed in an air strike attack. According to reports, Sanusi and fifty-one other Fulani elders had written to President Muhammadu Buhari urging him to hold Ortom responsible for the killings. Sequel to Sanusi’s remark and the letter to Buhari, Ortom on Thursday raised the alarm alleging that there were plots by some Fulani elites to eliminate him over the Nasarawa incident. Wading into the matter, BDC in a statement issued on Saturday by its National Coordinator, Aloysius Gbakaan, said it is worried over the attacks on Ortom by some Fulani leaders led by Sanusi. The coalition wondered why the Fulani leaders were after Ortom over “an action carried out by the military”, stressing that the attack “was a clear sign that they know what other Nigerians do not know and are out to execute their expansionist agenda to the finish “The BCD expects a highly exposed and educated personality like Sanusi to know that a state governor has no power to direct a federal government security agency on what to do, especially when it concerns operations such as the one that took place on the said day. “The former Emir is supposed to be a statesman in his own right, but his selective and sentimental concern over killings of Nigerians smacks of bigotry and insensitivity. This is a man that maintains deaf ears whenever the killings are perpetrated by his kinsmen, the Fulanis. “That he has never condemned the killings in Benue and other parts of the country, especially those carried out by his fellow Fulanis, exposes him and his band of extremists as enablers and co-sponsors of the ethnic cleansing in Benue State. “His video calling for Ortom’s head, and the interview he (Sanusi) granted BBC Hausa Service where he heaped unfounded allegations on Governor Ortom over the Open Grazing Prohibition and Ranches Establishment Law of Benue State also testified to Sanusi’s hatred for Ortom and their desire to see him eliminated by their foot soldiers. “We are curious that highly educated Fulani elders like Sanusi, Professor Usman Yusuf, former Bauchi State Governor Isa Yuguda and many others are feigning ignorance of the constitutional powers of State Houses of Assembly to make laws for the good governance of their states. If not, why would they be against the open grazing prohibition and ranches establishment law of Benue state? “The Fulani elders need to stop grandstanding and urged their kith and kin to embrace ranching, which is the modern trend in cattle rearing, if they must carry out their trade in Benue state, or choose elsewhere as the archaic mode of animal husbandry has been outlawed in the state. “The law is not the making of Governor Ortom solely; the entire Benue people demanded for that legislation and it was given to them to curb incessant clashes between farmers and herders. But Fulani pastoralists have vowed to resist the law violently and they are doing just that as reflected in the constant massacre of innocent people in their communities and displacement of over two million others, thereby creating a serious humanitarian situation in the state. “While we also agree that the bombing in Akwanaja be investigated by relevant authorities, we call on Sanusi and his horde of mischief makers to caution their brothers against disobedience to laws of places they found themselves and desist from taking laws into their own hands just because they are told to be law-abiding. “We equally call on the federal government to beef up security around Benue communities in Gwer-West, Guma and other parts of the state where Fulani militia are threatening to launch more attacks on the people. These types of threats were issued by Miyetti Allah in 2017 but were taken for granted and the armed herders carried out the attacks which left 73 people dead on the eve of 2018 new year. The mindless bloodletting must not be allowed to continue. “We maintain our position that Governor Ortom had no hand in that military operation which took place outside Benue state and should be left to carry out his functions without the barrage of attacks on his person. “The BCD also wants relevant security agencies to call Sanusi and the other Fulani elders to order and beam searchlights on them and their foot soldiers especially at this time that they are desperate to eliminate Governor Ortom after seven previous failed attempts. “The people of Benue also need to shun their differences and stand behind the Governor who has been made a scapegoat by enemies of the state due to his firm resolve to protect the lives and property of his people. “We want to state emphatically that any attack on Governor Ortom is an attack on all Benue people. We will not fold our alms and watch extremists castigate the Governor and get away with it. “Governor Ortom has our popular mandate and whatever he says regarding the security situation in the state, he does so on our collective behalf. He speaks our minds and we are solidly behind him. “We reiterate our support for Governor Ortom and call on him to remain resolute in his burning desire to ensure that he leaves Benue state better than he met it despite the evil machinations of some unpatriotic Nigerians disguised as concerned statesmen”. BDC called on security forces in the country to invite the alleged 52 Fulani leaders led by Sanusi for questioning, stressing that “there is something they know that the rest of the country is not yet aware of. “Terrorism is one of the biggest challenges facing Nigeria at the moment, and if any group appears to tacitly support those who perpetrate acts of terror on the people, such a group of individuals surely have questions to answer”. Read the full article

[selinakidreams]

hello hello hello ! this is my comfort piece for @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness month collab! and I’d just like to say a huge thank you to emme for creating such a wonderful collab and thank you for letting me be apart of it.

paring: kirishima eijirou (I’m talking 7ft big strongman vibes) x empathic quirk f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 3.7k +

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff

warnings: mentions of anxiety & toxic friendships, instigating with means to harm- please let me know if I missed anything!!

a/n: this I think,, was the best way to approach what has tormented me for years. it was a reoccurring thing for me but I never handled it properly, and just this year, someone important taught me that I deserve more than what I’ve been putting myself through. so here it is! I also think that once my schedule clears up, I’m gonna make a sister piece to this but idk !! let me know if you guys would be interested in that!

++ the absolute biggest thank you to my betas/flow checkers @doinmybesthere @lady-bakuhoe @keishinslove BIG kith

pss. the first person who can guess my love language based off this fic wins a prize

Turning other’s confidence to despair, gloating to fear, persistence to tiredness, motivation into loss- but all you felt was drained. The overuse of your quirk left your head feeling full of cotton; Your chest heaving and vision slightly blurry. 

You arrived late to the fight because what started as a relaxing day off quickly turned into a rush to get to the streets. Thankfully Red Riot had been on the scene, waist-deep and stalling a full-fledged fight between two combat villains until backup came. 

His tired eyes met yours and you flashed him a hopeful smile until witnessing the villain get a short-termed upper hand. They landed a solid punch, which caused you to feel not only the repercussions of the shock-inducing impact but your building guilt of being a distraction.

Years of training reminded you not to let it get to your head, your hero instincts kicking in after emotionally experiencing that strike. Heart pumping with adrenaline, you began to focus your heart and mind, simultaneously tuning into what those around you were feeling, never forgetting to keep your eyes wide and alert. 

Confidence, eagerness, perseverance, exhaustion, determination. 

Taking a breath as you ease into a rhythm, you kept your sights on the two people who were attacking the boulder of a hero and finally, a steady grasp.

Quirk at work, the familiar mental image of loose strings flowing in the wind appeared, and you grabbed a hold of them, symbolizing that you had caught hold of their feelings and wasted no time on bending and contorting to your will. You watched as their actions became slower and less motivated, making it easier for Kirishima to handle. He must have realized what was happening, a new surge of elation pumped through him as he began to knock both of the villains down a peg. 

Seeing him fight had always been such a marvel to watch; it was so easy to be mesmerized by the sheer enthusiasm he had while trying to keep the balance and execute justice. Kirishima Eijirou was a hero in all senses of the word- and not just any hero, your hero- as cheesy as it sounded.

Secured under his weight and possibly unconscious, Red Riot looked around, a bit disheveled, until his gaze found yours. Expecting to be met with the warm sincere smile that always made your heart flutter, your heart sunk when you saw his eyes turn wide and frantic as he called out your hero name. 

On top of feeling a bit dizzy from honing into those particular subjects and manipulating two people at once, a wave of distress washed over you, adding to the unfavorable aftermath of pushing your quirk. 

You were quick to whip around, finding another villain was closing in closer than expected. You dropped all previous controls and focused solely on the person in front of you. 

“You had gotten better since the last time I saw you,” they sneered as they attempted to land a hard-hitting kick to your stomach. 

Missing by a hair, you pushed past the dreariness in your head and went straight into a defensive position.

The close-cut dodge wasn’t the only thing to throw you off; now you had realized why Kirishima looked at you like that; your traumatic past, the one you had divulged to him in the safety of your home, warbling with tears streaking your cheeks, was coming back to roughhouse with the intent of ending in a knockout. 

Fear twisted into gut-wrenching anxiety; the plummeting feeling hit the bottom of your stomach with a harsh thud.

In front of you stood the unmistakable frame of someone you had considered to be one of your closest friends for a time; someone that seemed so natural to be with, someone you divulged secrets and shared smiles with, someone that had made it seem like separation was not an option- now turned villain, sporting a suited evil smirk smeared on their face. 

It was hard not to let the tears collect on your waterline, thinking about the whirlwind of your relationship as your gaze met theirs for the first time in years. Months and months of triggered breakdowns, cold sweats from various nightmares, and countless tears have been shed as time progressed, the sinking feeling of long-lost fear that they had put you through now showing its ugly head; the thought you had convinced yourself for so long- that you ended up not even being worth their time starting to resurface. 

It had been hard to learn the lessons that were dealt and see the mistakes made on both parts- not just yours, to pick up all the shattered expectations of what a true friendship is, but you had. Now you were able to sort through the wrong sorts and had gotten emotionally and mentally stronger because of it; in many ways, the ending of the friendship helped you realize that there were ways you deserved to be treated, and like shit wasn’t one of them.

However, it almost seemed like all the progress you had made swirled down the drain now that they were in front of you. It was like you were experiencing the heartbreak of them ending the friendship all over again.

“Awww! The poor little hero is still heartbroken after I left her?” their tone patronizing as they jutted out their bottom lip to form an exaggerated pout. “Look at you! I can practically see the desperation on your face- desperate for me to come back? You’ve always been so fucking clingy. But you know, the news has you pinned as like... some kind of saint… no, no. You’re nothing but a selfish attention whore playing the good guy... so I just wanted to stop by and remind you of the truth.” they sneered, really aiming to trigger your trauma. 

You had opened up to them about all your fears; from the smallest to the all-consuming ones, so for them to be targeting you like this… they must have thought that you haven’t changed- and you fucking have. You worked damn hard to do so; You’ve grown and have started appreciating yourself more, started loving yourself more, started working on yourself more. The villain was only targeting your past worries, keyword, past.

Regardless, you were already feeling too much as is and the best thing you could do for yourself right now was to control yourself. 

The urge to take it personally was beyond tempting- to make them suffer as they had done to you, to watch them break right in front of you… But there was a specific way to handle this situation, one you’ve envisioned more than enough, the perfect high route. 

Quickly looking back to see how Kirishima was fairing, you were met with the rock hero in the process of cuffing the other two offenders, allowing you to feel a rush of relief. You turned around and mentally centered yourself. The convict seemed to put together what you were about to do, so without hesitation, they began charging only a second too late.

Taking a breath, the perfect feeling to muddle their prideful feeling down surged through you as you carefully knotted their violent stings together.

It was the feeling you faced when all was said and done after, the outcome you faced after you had gone through confronting all of the trauma that was built up by this person. 

All you felt was emptiness. 

When it hit them, you saw it in their eyes as they stopped in their tracks. No smugness, no pride, no cowardness. Nothing to egg them on and yet nothing to make them feel terrible. Blank. 

Before confusion slithered its way to their consciousness, you took the opportunity and roundhoused them- your efficient ankle sweep knocking their head to the floor, deeming them unconscious.

Crouching to the floor next to their body, you made sure they were breathing before cuffing them and standing back up, turning around you double-check on the scene behind you.

The police furthest from you were tucking the Red Riot’s villains in their cars while the others jogging towards you kept their eyes on the limp body behind you, Kirishima in tow. He looked incredibly tired but couldn’t seem to keep the smile off his face. He felt proud.

A weak smile graces your lips as you try to take a step, only to see your vision blur.

Great. 

The last thing you saw was the panicked look in his eyes as his pace quickened to a run in attempts to catch you. You faded out to the sound of an urgent call of your actual name before your body hit the ground with a thud. 

The next few hours came in slow-paced blinks. 

The first time you opened your eyes post-fight, your body felt heavy… but you were moving. It didn’t take long to realize that you were being carried by the muscular arms that you wake up to every morning. Slowly peeling your eyes open, the sight of his signature spikey red hair reminded you that what had just happened. Your boyfriend, the one who was on the scene with you, had witnessed you overcome one of the people that truly had left damage on you. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring straight ahead; by the way, his fingers curled around your bicep and thighs, it had been tough for him to watch everything that had gone down. 

You tried to call out his name, but it sounded stifled, sounding more like a broken whisper than anything. After another try, he seemed to have heard you, his ears perking up even though all the commotion- or maybe it was just ironic timing. When his red eyes caught the beaming smile you attempted to comfort him with, he tried to mimic it, only you could make out the way his bottom lip quiver. Your eyelids became unbearably heavy and for the second time, unconsciousness took its hold over you.

Blink.

The next time your eyes peeled open, you were being inspected by the all-to-familiar medical team. The inside of the ambulance was much brighter than it was outside, fluorescent lighting causing you to squint. Unnamable hands were touching your head and pulse points. When they noticed your eyes open, they tried to keep you awake as long as possible, the first step was sitting you up on the gurney. The first person you made eye contact with was your designated nurse- the one with the most comforting presence, was that part of her quirk? 

With a kind smile and knowing eyes, she jerked her head in the direction of the person she knew was first to come to mind. Following the movement, your gaze landed on Kirishima, who was standing off to the side and chewing on his nail, arms crossed against his chest. 

Had he already got checked out? Was he okay? 

When he noticed you were staring, he mustered up a small smile and in return, you slightly lifted both your hands to do a loose wave in attempts to warm up his smile. It worked.

“Okay c’mon, you know how these checkups go- you can go be with your boyfriend once we know you’re okay.” your nurse teased, knowing full well that a serious approach wasn’t going to work with you being this drowsy. 

You merely nodded in response, head and eyelids still heavy.

 The rest of the examination went by speedily, you being awake making everything go ten times smoother. After everything was checked and you were clear to go home, the nurses moved to talk to Kirishima as you moved to the edge of the ambulance, waiting for them to finish. 

“I’m so lucky that you’re not only my hero but also a registered caregiver. Well actually… both are pretty super...” You mumbled, trailing off with a lazy smile, lids finally starting to accept the losing battle of staying open. 

“Nooo, you’re lucky that it’s the overuse of your quirk that’s keeping you out of the hospital and not fatal injuries. It’s not manly to push yourself too hard.” he quipped back in a light playful tone; He didn’t miss how hard you were fighting to stay awake. “Baby, can you make it to the car or do you want me to carry you?” 

It was moments like this where you appreciated how comfortable Kirishima made you feel in your relationship; feeling no shame when you revert to a clingy pile of mush. Reaching out, you let your eyes close as you mimic grabby hands to your enormous boyfriend. 

You hear him sigh as he kneels in front of you, opening your eyes in time to catch his broad back muscles shifting, “c’mon love, you need to help me with this bit.”

You clumsily climb on his back and loosely wrap your arms around his neck, standing up with ease. He quickly adjusts you against him to get a better hold on your thighs. Once he begins walking, you let yourself subside back into unconsciousness.

Blink.

You were jolted awake when you felt yourself falling, only for your behind to hit a familiar cushiony surface. Oh right, the car. Before you could fade out once again, you heard Kirishima say something about going to grab the paperwork so the both of you can file your reports later when you wake up. The last thought you were able to think was something along the lines of how incredibly lucky you were to have someone love you so deeply.

Blink.

Waking up to the view of the city lights twinkling below your balcony and the energy of a healthy 8 hours of sleep, you stretch the rest of the drowsiness out of your body till you feel ready to accept the hefty amount of paperwork that’s waiting for you in the other room. 

The only light that illuminated your bedroom was the reflection of the living room lights on the hallway floors. Before getting up, you spared a glance at your nightstand, seeing a glass of water with a note underneath, as predicted; this happened more often than not after a battle. You reach out and take the glass in hand and take a steady sip before letting in more and more water, then reading the messy little note:

 in the livingroom <3 

You smiled at the little doodle he drew- two characters that seem a lot like the two of you, kissing, with a sparkly heart over their heads.

The need to recreate this drawing was growing at an incredible speed.

With newfound determination, you push yourself up from the bed and shuffle to the living room, squinting when the light becomes a little too harsh against your eyes.

Eyes fully closed when you get to the center of the living room, purposely facing the wrong way and trying to suppress a giggle, you try to use the most monotone voice you could muster.

“Kiri - where are you I can’t see.” 

“Your eyes are closed- babe, open your eyes.” 

“No it’s too bright but I saw this cute drawing on the nightstand done by this really talented artist and I must recreate it please recreate it with me.”

You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice came close to your left side.

“Was it a pretty manly drawing?” 

“I would like to think so.”

He was much closer at this point, shifted to somewhere close in front of you right before warm lips were on yours; as quick as the peck came, it was gone in a flash followed by the sound of him plopping down on the couch.

“Wait Eijirou-” you start to pout as you turn in the direction where the couch is, eyes now fully open and set on Kirishima until the shock of pain shot through your nerve endings. 

“Ah, shit! Fuck!…” you wince, lifting your leg to hug your newly stubbed toe.

Kirishima is back by your side in an instant, really trying to suppress his laugh but doing a terrible job.

“You’re such a jerk for laughing,” you pout, giving your best attempt of a proper shove��� and he didn’t even budge. 

There was a moment of complete silence then the booming of your boyfriend’s boisterous laughs bouncing off the walls. Rolling your eyes, you limped over to the spot on the couch where he was previously sitting, and as the cushion beside you dips, you sigh. 

The sight in front of you was a disheveled mess. Scribbled on papers were thrown about- most were filled out but there were a few that were blank, pens and highlighters could be spotted under and over random reports.

“I did most of the reports… but I didn’t know if you wanted to fill out yours… because of who you were fighting.” he slowly stated, as if he were walking on eggshells. You could tell that he was holding back from hitting the main issue. 

Was this something you were ready to unbiasedly talk about? Kirishima knew most of the details, but he also realized that you probably wanted to talk about it more now that you’ve not only seen them after all this time but had to fight them. 

With another sigh, you let your head fall into your palms- your elbows digging into your thighs- and you roughly rub your eyes before coming up for a new breath of air. 

“My heart was pounding…” you started, attempting to prepare for the unwanted wave of grief, but as you trailed off, oddly enough, it never came. 

When reflecting on the fight, you remembered the range of emotions you felt, but now… you just felt… empty- which was ironic. No sadness, longing, anxiety… if anything, with your caring redhead staring at you with the roundest eyes, you felt at ease. 

“But honestly? I don’t really feel much right now. Like I can say that when looking back, I think I handled myself in the best way possible- they don’t deserve to have that satisfaction of creating a rise out of me, and quite frankly… I’m tired, Ei. I’m so tired of letting them have that hold on me. I don’t deserve that kind of pain. As much as I am a hero, I need to think about myself as a person and there’s only so much I can endure. My mental and emotional health comes first.” 

After saying all of that, there was a slight hint of relief that flooded your system; you already began to feel lighter.

“I’m so proud of you. I know that must have been really hard to face but you did it, and you were so good about it,” he whispered as he reached out for your thigh. 

Accepting his comfort, you sucked in another breath and smiled up at him. He held and returned your smile for a couple of seconds before slightly leaning in, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Would it be alright if I.. kiss you?” it was such a heart-warming gesture, how he was making sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

“More than alright,” you whisper, barely getting out the last word because of how quickly the gap between you two closed. The kiss was comfort in the rawest form; his pace was slow, his large hand cupping your jaw as his tongue invaded your mouth. You were following his pace, your eyes coming to a close, melting into a relaxed state for what seemed like the first time today. 

Keeping the kiss light, he pulled away shortly, but not before placing a lingering peck on your lips, then one on your forehead and whispering, “I made you a snack. You’re probably hungry right now so I prepared you a little something filling. And while you eat, I’m gonna run a bath with some Epsom salt and lavender oil, does that sound good?” 

Overwhelming gratitude washed over you. Words couldn’t possibly measure even the bare minimum of the love you have for Kirishima Eijirou, and yet you managed to string a soft, “You are the most wonderful person in the world, and I… Eijirou I love you so much.” 

His eyes became a little teary as he looked down at you, a wobbly smile in place before whispering a returning “I love you,” before heading into the bathroom to run the water in your massive tub. 

As the thundering sound of the water filling the tub echo through your apartment, you get up and rummage the fridge to find a plate of adorably cut red apples with a glob of peanut butter off to the side. 

“Baby do you want tea?” You call out just loud enough, “I’m gonna brew that green tea with the toasted rice!” 

He came into the kitchen looking big and confused, “what did you say, baby?”

“Green tea?”

“Oh yes, please,” he said, leaning in and planting a kiss to your temple before turning back to the bathroom. 

“Kiri? Can you put on the house shows on the tv? I forgot what channel they were on.”

You didn’t need to turn around to hear tv turn on; a shout of thanks was called out before you took a bite of your snack.

It felt all very domestic, something you never thought could happen to you. Your childhood was a montage of quirk abuse, being emotionally used, following the same types of toxic people, and never learning your lesson. It all flipped somewhere in your twenties- you began to realize the pattern after being shown the kindness the world could offer. No longer world you put up with bullshit like that. You knew better now and Eijirou always reminded you of that. 

You were halfway through one of your favorite flipping shows when Kirishima came in shirtless, letting you know the bath was ready, “Okay my love, it’s ready. Take your time, I‘ll be in the tub.”

You stripped on your way to the bathroom, leaving all your clothes on the bench in the bedroom before padding into the warm-tiled bathroom.

The view you stepped in on was delicious; your huge boyfriend taking up most of the tub, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Gee red, you’re so sexy.” you aimed to tease, but your words came out a bit strained. He chuckles before turning to face you and groaning your name, “hurry up and come in here.”

And it’s then when you’re submerged in all the heat and laying against your boyfriend’s warmth, do you remember that life is what you make it to be. Never accept anything less than the love and care you deserve.

Blink.

[queen-scribbles]

Little Treasures

For @pillarspromptsweekly​ 102: Godlike

Nikora’s pregnancies were always difficult, and this one was no exception. But they were always worth it in the end, she reassured herself, rubbing one hand over her swollen belly as she watched her children play in the ocean’s shallows. Amira was with her; hard as the carrying and births were, the children were all strong and beautiful.

“You will be, too, my little treasure,” she murmured as the baby kicked. “Just like your brother and sisters.” She hummed to herself and returned to cooking supper and the baby gave a final roll and settled for the time being.

The children’s faint giggles and cries of joy rose in pitch to unmistakable greeting, and Nikora looked up from roasting fish to see Téni emerge from the ocean. He dropped the bag of pearls he’d collected as their girls tackle-hugged him from each side, nearly knocking him back into the surf. He roared with laughter Nikora could hear from the house and started up the beach with the girls still hanging from his neck, one arm around each of them. They made it halfway before Hana’s grip slacked and she dropped, giggling, to the sand. Nikora watched with a smile as Nyree responded by tightening her grip and burying hr face in the side of her father’s neck. Hana barely hesitated before falling in step with Matiu, playfully bickering over who should carry the bag of pearls. They all reached the house on a tide of laughter that swept Nikora along when it reached her.

“If the day’s labors did not have me famished, dear heart, that aroma surely would,” Téni said, grinning as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Ekera, dearest, you’re dripping fit to put out the fire,” Nikora returned with a laugh. She pulled him back for a true kiss despite the half-hearted scold, causing Nyree to shriek in childish disgust and drop out of the way. “It’s almost ready, go clean up,” she admonished all of them. The children obeyed, but Téni lingered for another kiss, his hand rubbing gently over her belly.

“Was today any better?” he asked, pausing to grin as the baby kicked toward his hand. “Feisty little one.”

“Somewhat,” Nikora nodded, removing the fish from the cooking fire. “Ekera, I’ll feel better when the midwife returns from the south beach, though.”

“Your time’s a month off,” Téni reassured her, cupping her cheek in one hand, still damp with salt water. “She’s due back week after next. I’m sure it’ll be fine, dear heart.”

“The girls came early,” Nikora reminded him.

“And Matiu was late,” he countered. His hand slipped to the back of her neck, gently caressing the skin. “Trust the Sky-Mother. She’s been good to us so far.”

“So has Ngati,” Nikora chuckled, resting her forehead against his cheek and gesturing to the heavy bag of pearls.

“So she has,” Téni agreed. He kissed her temple. “But Amira is responsible for our greatest treasures, I say.”

As if on cue, the trio of dark-haired, freshly-washed children trooped back into view, clamoring for dinner.

“The treasures are hungry,” Nikora murmured, smiling, and stepped back. “Your turn, dearest. Clean up while I satisfy our little piranhas.”

“Ekera, I would be safer back in the ocean,” Téni agreed with a laugh as he left to follow her wishes.

Dinner was, as always, a chaotic affair, the children all talking over each other about the adventures of the day, until Matiu mentioned his friend Taika getting in trouble for throwing rocks at “the new folk”.

“Who?” Nikora frowned. She hadn’t traveled far from the house in weeks and was woefully behind on news.

“The new folk, Mama,” he repeated, with greater emphasis. “Well, some are elves, not folk. And little furry people even shorter than Nyree.”

“They arrived a couple weeks ago,” Téni explained. “They set up near the piers, seem peaceful enough, so it’s good Taika didn’t get away with being rude.” He raised a brow at Matiu.

“But they dress weird and call the gods by funny names,” Matiu protested.

“Faith is what matters,” Nikora said gently. “Not the names they use. If they are earnest and reverent, I’m sure the gods still hear them.”

“They certainly have the favor of at least some,” Téni  said with a nod. “There seem a fair few devoted to the Sky-Mother,” he commented, casual tone belied by the look he sent her.

“So we have something in common,” she murmured, hand on her belly as the baby twisted and rolled. If this latest little treasure decided to arrive before the midwife returned, maybe one of them could help. “Ekera, it’s always better to dwell on common ground than differences. Life is much kinder that way.”

In the way of children, while Matiu was quiet to mull over her words, Hana piped up. “I foun’ a shell almost big as my head!” and the three of them were off again. Nikora smiled as she listened to their chatter. They truly were a treasure, and she couldn’t wait to add another.

---

Her predictions proved true, and the first sharp pains of labor came only a couple days later. Fortunately, the children were all home at the time, so she sent Matiu to try and find Téni, Nyree for Nikora’s sister, and Hana to the new folk, hoping their devotion to Amira would mean one of them could help. The pains came sharper and more frequent, and Nikora clutched her feathered necklace while she prayed Amira would let help arrive before the baby did.

It was only a few breaths later that Hana burst back in, all but dragging a dark-skinned folk woman behind her.

“Idrìsa,” the woman introduced herself, gaze flitting around the house before landing on Nikora with a comforting smile. “I hear from your girl you are early?”

Nikora curled forward at a particularly strong labor pain before gritting out, “A full month.”

“Well,” Idrìsa gently touched the feathered band around her bicep, “let’s help this over-eager little one. By Hylea’s grace, everything will be fine.”

Nikora had a brief moment to guess ‘Hylea’ was their way of invoking Amira and heartily agree before several labor pains hit so close together she nearly curled into a ball. Over-eager little one, indeed. “Ekera, she is ready to see the world,” she muttered, the words rising to a screech of pain just as Nyree returned with her aunt Ruiha just behind.

“I say, this must be another girl, sister,” Ruiha teased, tying back her hair as she moved to help. She and Idrìsa exchanged introductions, shooed the girls out of the house, and got to work.

Teasing aside, the babe was so eager to join life’s chorus, she--or he--was already crowning by the time Téni burst through the door. Nikora caught his gaze and thrust out her hand toward him as another pain wracked her.

He took it without hesitation. “Ekera, this one’s impatient.”

“A common sentiment,” Nikora ground out as she bore down under another urge to push. She squeezed his hand, their grips slick with sweat and sea water both, and let her head fall against his shoulder.

“You’re almost there,” Ruiha encouraged, brow creasing in a brief frown.

“What, what?” Nikora demanded, trying to sit up.

“Don’t worry,” Ruiha soothed, pushing her back. “She is bigger than you would think, coming so early.”

Something... off-put lingered in her eyes, but Nikora was too distracted to press the issue. A few more pushes, and the baby slid from her into Idrìsa’s waiting hands. She turned away to clean the child as Nikora fell back against Téni chest, muttering under her breath. Combined with Ruiha’s troubled look, it was very concerning, and Nikora felt dread coil in her chest.

“Is... something wrong?” she panted. “Where’s my baby?”

“Not wrong,” Idrìsa said, tone awed. “She’s beautiful.” She turned with a smile to place the loosely wrapped infant in Nikora ’s arms. “Your daughter.”

Tired as she was, Nikora still sent Téni an ‘I told you so’ smirk as she took the child. She was indeed a beautiful; with skin swirled blue-green like Téni and Hana’s, hair dark red like Nikora ’s own-

And feathers. Mingled with her hair, crossing the span of her shoulders and stretching down to her elbows, the infant had small, jewel-blue feathers sprouting from her skin.

“What-” Nikora ’s panicked question died in her throat as the baby cried and nuzzled after milk. Even stunned, her instincts took over and she couldn’t refuse her child. The baby’s nose felt... odd as she suckled. Longer, thinner than the others when they were born. Harder.

“She is a blessing from Hylea,” Idrìsa said fervently, nodding toward Nikora’s necklace and clutching one of her own fetish charms. “The Sky-Mother has seen your devotion and chosen to reward you. She has favored your child with her touch!” She shook her head. “Never before have the gods so honored kith.” 

Nikora and Téni stared at each other for a long moment. Both knew how the different could be treated; Taika and his rocks came to mind, and their dinnertime conversation just a few nights prior. If a child was so antagonistic toward other kith for such simple difference of culture, what would their daughter face, looking like this? 

“Ekera, are you sure?” Ruiha demanded, crossing her arms. “Faithful they may be, but why would Amira consider... that a reward? To mangle their child before she even leaves the womb? Mark her for mockery?”

“Or honor,” Idrìsa countered, holding up one finger like the village school teacher when Nikora was a girl and first learned of the gods. “Only time will tell.”

“I’m sure it will,” Ruiha said brusquely before turning to Nikora. “Do you want me to let the other children in?”

Nikora nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ruiha cast a look at the infant as if that should be answer enough, but did stick her head outside to call Matiu and the girls in. They crowed close, all eager for a look at their new sister.

“What’s her name?” Hana asked.

“She looks like a bird,” Matiu gawked.

“She’s beautiful,” Nyree cooed, stroking the baby’s feathered arm.

“Yes, she does, yes, she is, and we have yet to name her,” Nikora said with a smile. Immediately, all three chimed in with a dozen suggestions, but she looked to Téni, still staring at their newest treasure. He’d not said a word since seeing her, and Nikora was concerned he shared her sister’s view. “Dearest? What name do you like?”

Téni cleared his throat, gently ran his fingers over the infant’s mingled hair and feathers, and smiled at her. “Aria. A beautiful new voice to live life’s song.”

“Aria...” Nikora tried, and the baby stopped nursing and opened her large dark eyes, one tiny fist punching the air. “I love it, and it appears she does, too. Aria it is.”

Aria let out a soft coo, nestled close, and fell asleep. There was no telling how the rest of the village would accept her--if they would--but for now, Nikora was content. And very much wanted to follow her daughter’s example into slumber.

---

The first time feathers fell from among Aria’s hair, Téni saved them in an oiled charm pouch. He wore it when he went diving, and the pearls he found that day rivaled the beauty and worth of royal treasures.

Their family stayed happy, healthy, and grew. More children followed Aria, though none bore a god’s touch as she did. These pregnancies proved easier than the previous ones had, the babies all just as healthy and beautiful.

Gradually, the village accepted Idrìsa’s view: strange as she might look, this avian child was a sign of Amira’s favor. Nikora was relieved and grateful, so often the strange was labeled bad and cast out, but her daughter was welcomed and thriving.

She hoped if the gods had chosen to so honor others in the world, their offspring fared as well as her little treasure.

[nonhumanwithin]

Advice for confused kin

(Note: I’m not fictionkin or any other type of unusual kin, just a normal otherkin, so I’ll be talking about my own experiences and not really fictionkin or the like. I wish I could help, I’m sorry!)

This is more centered around my personal experiences, but I do hope it helps others as well. Writing out your thoughts can sometimes help clear your mind c:

So, I’ve struggled with figuring out my kintypes for a long time. I’ve known I’m otherkin for almost 9 years now, and yet I still struggle from time to time with my identity. This is mostly due to my mental illnesses (BPD and CPTSD, if you’re curious), which I know I’m not the only otherkin struggling with. I know of a few others who are adults and have been in the community for some time who struggle with finding out their identity. So, if you’re like me, or maybe more new to the community or younger, either way, I hope this helps at least a little.

First, I’ll go over some basics:

Being otherkin means you identify as a nonhuman being (non physically!). You are this creature, and it is you.

Being otherhearted/kith means you identify with the creature, not as. Maybe you wish you were this creature, maybe not. It holds a part of your heart, and in a way, is probably apart of who you are as a person, but it doesn’t shape your identity in the same way a kintype does. You probably can’t imagine not identifying as your kintype, but you could still be you without your kithtype.

However, being otherhearted/kith is NOT the same as having a favorite animal. It can be like a favorite animal, but you feel like “favorite animal” doesn’t quite describe how you feel about the animal. It is definitely something more than that.

Cameo shifts are shifts into another creature that isn’t your kintype. (Note that shifting as your kithtype counts as cameo, or at least, I don’t know any better word for it, so that’s what I’ll call it for now.)

So, how do you distinguish a kintype from a kithtype? What makes a shift a cameo instead of a kintype shift?

I think for something to be considered a kintype, you must identify as it for a certain amount of time (maybe about 6 months) and distinctly feel that it is you and feel as if, when you see your kintype, you are looking in a mirror, not seeing a friend. (Of course, if you find your kintype and decide you’re sure enough to call it a kintype before 6 months that is completely fine, I’m talking about those who are confused or questioning and want to be absolutely sure!)

For me, when I see something I know is a kithtype- for this example I’ll use wolves, as they are a kithtype of mine and I did think I was a wolf for a while- I do see similarities between us. But I feel more a deep admiration for them than a feeling of “that’s me!”. I feel as if I’m seeing brothers and sisters, like I could walk among wolves like they are family, but they’re not. I like to compare it to the way Native Americans in movies (idk about irl so I’m comparing to movies bc it’s easier) have certain animals they deeply respect and sort of draw power/happiness/knowledge/etc from. It is a deep connection, and for me it feels almost familial. I want to protect wolves, and learn about them, and someday see them in person. I want to be their friend, their ally, their sibling. But I am not one of them.

With my dog theriotype, it’s different. When I see seppalas with black and white coats like how I imagine my theriotype to look, I get a very strong feeling like “that’s me!!!” and feel as if I’m looking in a mirror, or seeing a picture of me when I looked really good, haha. I see myself as this animal, and it feels completely natural to do so. I could imagine myself as my dog theriotype doing dog things, or imagine something silly like being a dog doing human things, like typing at my computer. But it feels 100% natural to see myself this way. Calling myself a dog feels right. Calling myself a wolf would feel more like, trying to fit into your older sibling’s clothes as a kid, if that makes sense? I sometimes want to be a wolf because I admire them so much. But, I am not one.

But of course, the lines between kin and kith aren’t always so distinct. Maybe you feel so strongly for an animal that you wonder if it is a kintype, but you feel it’s not quite strong enough to be a kintype. Maybe you have had very strong shifts as your kithtype and question if it means something more, or if the shifts were only cameos. Maybe you heavily relate to some of the characteristics of your kithtype and feel as if these characteristics are linked to a kintype and this creature fits your feelings fairly closely, probably not totally accurately.

Alternatively, maybe you question a kintype being a kithtype instead because you don’t always feel it so strongly. Maybe you’re not as connected to one kintype as another. Maybe you think you’re just biased and really really like this animal and shouldn’t be so quick to label it as a kintype.

So, where do you draw the line?

It might be different for you, but for me personally, I think I would have to consider myself this animal enough to want to call myself this animal, at least most of the time. Maybe I don’t feel it as strongly as my dog theriotype, but if I were to introduce myself to someone, I would want to mention all of my theriotypes. I must have somewhat frequent/strong shifts of this animal that do not fade, or feel partially shifted for a long period of time. I’ve found that if I have random bursts of shifts that are only caused by outside influences, they are cameo shifts. My kintype shifts might be more random, last longer, and feel more solid, while cameo shifts feel more unstable, like they won’t last very long.

What sucks about me personally is that, when I cameo shift, I feel very strongly in that moment that I am that creature, that I identify as it. I have had very strong feline shifts, where I feel totally cat and want to rub my head on things and purr. But I get these shifts too infrequently to call myself a feline. Though that’s how it is for me personally. Maybe you’re different and have very infrequent shifts, that’s okay!

The main difference is that I do not normally identify as a cat. I have strong cat shifts caused by outside influences and will feel as if I am internally a cat for a short time, but it always goes away. If I am doing something unrelated to cats and not thinking about it for some time, and someone asks what animal I feel like in that moment, I would not say I am a cat.

Another difference is I will sort of instinctively shift as a reaction to certain situations, such as fear. For example, I have social anxiety and I remember a day when I went to the store feeling particularly anxious, and had a strong orca shift as a result, feeling the urge to slap my tail at anyone who got too close (sounds hilarious writing it out tbh). I wouldn’t normally have cameo shifts as a defense thing like this. I wouldn’t shift into a dragon or cat or whatever in this situation unless I was already thinking about them a lot or something.

I would have wolf shifted in the past when I believed I was a wolf, because my dog theriotype is pretty similar to wolves and I was confident I was a wolf back then. So, it’s good to try to remain unbiased if you are questioning a kintype and wondering what animal your shift is linked to. Instead of labeling it with any specific animal, stay neutral. For example, if you feel a long snout and the urge to growl and bare your teeth, do not call it a canine shift. There are other animals with long snouts that growl.

If you have a lot of cameo shifts and want to determine whether certain shifts are cameos or indications of a kintype, I would recommend:

Doing research. You’ve probably already done research to figure out what animal exactly you are shifting into, but I’d recommend also figuring out if you identify with many of the traits from this animal. For example, do you feel drawn to the habitat it lives in? When you hear its vocalizations do they sound familiar and you think if you could make these vocalizations it would feel right? Think about how big or small the animal is, does it feel right imagining yourself from that point of view? Maybe you’ll find you do little things that are similar to this animal. Be aware that they could very well be normal human things, but ultimately I think it’s up to you to determine whether these characteristics feel related to a kintype or not. Also, everyone is different! Maybe you don’t like the habitat your kintype lives in, etc. You don’t have to identify with all of these questions.

Take it slow, don’t think too much about it. Personally, the more I think about a potential kintype, the more I want to rush things and feel more biased and want to label myself, but this can be a bad idea.

Going off the last note but it’s 100% okay to be wrong about your kintype. If you absolutely feel right calling yourself a certain creature and want to label yourself this now, go ahead! Do what makes you happy. Maybe in a few months or a few years you’ll realize you were wrong. But that’s okay, everyone is still learning and growing, everyone makes mistakes. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for switching labels when it doesn’t affect them at all. It’s your own life, your own mind. Only you know how you feel, and no one can tell you how to think or feel or whatever.

However, if you are prone to rushing things and switching labels and such and want to quit, I would recommend waiting around 6 months before labeling a new kintype. If by then you still feel strongly you identify as this animal, label away! I say 6 months because from what I have seen it’s the period of time before someone can be diagnosed with a mental disorder. You have to experience symptoms of a disorder for at least 6 months in order to be diagnosed. I think it’s a good amount of time, because a lot can happen in 6 months, but you will not change who you are as a person or your core identity in 6 months. Basically, your kintype isn’t going anywhere by then. The only reason I can think of someone identifying as the wrong kintype for 6 months is if their actual kintype is very similar, and maybe they aren’t aware it exists (which is what happened in my case!), or haven’t looked into it enough. But of course, it’s totally up to you. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.

It’s also totally okay to not know your kintype. Maybe you don’t know any of your kintype(s), and just know that you don’t feel totally human. That’s okay! Everyone goes at their own pace. You have all the time in the world to figure yourself out.

Keeping a journal is a good idea. Try to be as unbiased as possible and write down your shifts and other otherkin experiences. Write down why you think you shifted, if it’s totally random or was possibly caused by something. Write down any urges you have that you think are kin related.

Maybe try inducing shifts of different animals you are considering as kintypes and note the differences between them and how comfortable/stable the different shifts feel.

You could have a friend or just have a timer or something to remind you to randomly ask yourself how you are feeling in that moment, if you feel like any particular animal. It can be very subtle.

Do things your possible kintype would do, watch videos, look at pictures, or if you’re into drawing, draw yourself! Draw how your phantom shifts would look, or draw what you think you would look like as this possible kintype. If you can’t draw or feel it wouldn’t accurately capture what you’re thinking. try to imagine it as vividly as possible. Does it feel like you? Do you feel as if you’re looking in a mirror, or does it feel more like a character/fursona, or like seeing an old friend?

I won’t get too into detail about finding your kintype and how to do research and such because there is already a lot of information about that out there. I wish you all luck on your journeys to discover yourselves!

[brooklynislandgirl]

@whosxafraid {{xx}}

Mael Muire has never been given to fear the natural world, neither bowing to nor cowering from Sun or wind, moon or snow. Unlike her sibling she knows the song of the summer grasses as much as she knows the tremble of birdsong in the forest tops. Every brook and fish in their lands has a name and even if she doesn’t know them all, she recognises it. She leaves tribute for the Fair Folk to ensure mercy and goodwill, and dances with the common folk in their rituals. Where Conchobhar preaches the fire and sword of civilisation, she preaches empathy and good will. Because stone will eventually crumple and what is built must succumb to the decay of the Cycle, but Nature herself will always remain.

And currently, the racing of her blood as they flee the castle under the cover of night dictates that she burrow deeper into the furs wrapped around her slim shoulders. That she tuck her face closer to his chest and her breath leaves gasps of white from the cold. Curiosity nips at the edges with fine mice teeth because on nights like this, when the moon is full and bright, casting the snow-blanketed fields and hills in silver relief, its halo glittering bright and the wind whistling through bare branches and casement alike, these are the nights where they draw together all the covers they can find and make a nest in front of the fire. He strokes her hair as she pillows her head against his chest and he feeds the flames almost lazily. 

Instead he makes an adventure of it all. All but flying across the ground, a leap across the stream that feeds their pond. Fingers tighten their hold on him and on the torch that she uses a tiny bit of magick to keep burning. She’s a little unsteady once he lets her go and takes it from her, and she still doesn’t question what they are doing. But she does glance at him from the corner of her eye.

It isn’t too long before their journey comes to a halt. It is then that she feels a frisson of nervous energy tingle along her spine. She can feel the shallowing of the gauntlet in the air, a kind of thinning between this world and the Other. This makes her cautious, she knows all of the stories about how some have unwittingly crossed between them and were never seen again. But that rational side gives way to the romantic soul who looks to the clearing. Sees the will-o-wisps dancing in ever-widening gyres.

He leaves her on the threshold and her words to halt him die in her throat.

Luminous green widens as patterns of light shifts, flesh and bone gives way to fur and fang. That silvers and glimmering gold tarnish and blacken almost like a blight of shadows as it settles around him. And the same eyes stare back at her, fretful but intelligent, more than any such a beast should have.  It begins as a kind of tightening in her belly. Muscles clench as the instinct to run flares out along the pathway of nerves through her body. The mortal fear from when the world was new and there were terrible things that hungered in the dark, culling the unwary from the people. Whose howls echoed into the deepest of winter nights making mothers clutch their newborns and men clutch torches and swords. Ancestral memory is a hard thing to overcome. She almost listens to that prey-voice, the one urging her to run as far as she can, as fast as she can. To not look back.

The next moment she is acutely aware that what shields her from winter’s bite are black wolf furs, possibly kin of his, and how bitter that must be on his tongue, that her kith have skinned his. It was necessary, not done of sport but to protect the outlying villages. But...somewhere even in his wolf mind he must know this. Just as she doesn’t blame him specifically for the loss of the cattle and sheep. It is all part of the Cycle she is bound to.

The third thought is the most painful. In this body, the wound Conchobhar crowed about for days is far more livid, pulsing angry and red with each breath he takes. And now she knows she must stand between her fae-gifted guardian and her flesh and blood. Just as she stood between the Church and the Old Ways.

She takes one step. Then another. Then another. Slow. Hesitant. But inexorably forward. One knee crunches the crust of the undisturbed snow, as she crouches. There she pulls her dagger from it’s sheathe, hidden in the depths of her cloak and furs. A quick stroke and there’s a thin red line along the side of her palm. A hand next cups his ear and it dwarfs the size of her, fingers and all. The other, the bleeding one, she makes a gesture with and then lets drip on the wound. It will heal with her magick even the most mortal of wounds because in her fist, in her blood she has the power of gods and monsters. Weal or woe as she sees fit, and she cannot let it pain him. With a final flick of that hand and a staining of pristine snow, Mael Muire dips down to rest her brow against the wolf’s. 

Because the witch fears many things, but the wolf is not one of them. “He will have to kill me to get to you,” she whispers, “and even my brother is not so foolish, Cathal.”

[tommy-shepherd]

Kith and Kin

Read on ao3

Swan/Skov

Chap. 1/?

Skov doesn't have a good relationship with his family, so Swan invites him over to meet his instead.

“Fucking cold in here. Piece of shit weather.” Skov mumbles, haphazardly pulling his favorite purple hoodie over his head from where he had retrieved it from its spot on the floor. There’s a draft coming in through the cracked window in the bedroom, but his stupid boyfriend runs hot and he knows better than to close it fully or he’ll have to hear Swan complain about it literally forever. Tugging the sweatshirt down over his hips with a final shake of his head, Skov stomps out of the bedroom and throws himself onto the couch. When he does, Swan looks over with a knowing grin. Skov flips him off.

“Fuck you.”

“I didn’t say anything.” And the asshole has the gall to laugh, Skov kicks him in the thigh, but regrettably it’s not hard enough to bruise.

“You didn’t have to. I know what you’re thinking.” Swan laughs again.

“We’ve been together too long.” He pauses, running a hand back through his hair before he motions for Skov to move closer to him and then pats his lap. “C’mere.” The smaller boy quirks a questioning brow but he shifts, lifting himself off the couch and rotating until he’s seated on his boyfriend’s lap, straddling his thighs. There’s a long moment of silence where neither boy says anything, Swan just staring at the smaller with a dopey smile on his face. Skov scowls.

“Yes?” Another beat of silence. Swan shakes his head fractionally.

“I love you.” And when he speaks, Swan’s voice is calm and steady and sure. His fingers tangle in the soft curls of white hair that tickle the nape of Skov’s neck and he tilts the boy’s face up gently to meet his gaze. Skov wonders how such large, strong hands can be so very capable of such tenderness.

Still, with furrowed brows, Skov smiles in return, soft and certain though he resists the urge to roll his eyes and break the moment of vulnerability between them. They deserve the tranquil bliss of here and now, sitting together in near silence with nothing but their adoration for each other.

“I love you, too,” His voice is nearly a whisper, but Skov is proud of himself for leaving off his usual bite. He grins, holding back the laughter that threatens to bubble out of him at any moment with the confession. There’s no joke here, but he doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so completely good and it’s overwhelming. Swan grins back at him, thumb brushing across the small star tattooed on his boyfriend’s cheek, pressing against it like it was his own personal brand on the boy.

After that, they both lean in, unconsciously, naturally, whatever it may be, it’s a chemistry they’re used to, one that comes without thought or effort. Their kiss is unusually sweet, simple, chaste, as far as they’re concerned. It’s also short lived. The next time their lips meet it’s with renewed fire, a bruising force, a bite. Skov’s arms wrap around his boyfriend’s broad back and in return he’s tugged closer by the hands now cupping his face. He lets out a pleased hum in reward. They press themselves as close together as possible, lips, chests, hips, trying to become one shared existence. Swan never gets bored of the feeling, he shifts, one arm around his small boyfriend's waist as he flips them, leans over, caging his boyfriend in and pressing him into the plush cushions. Skov rolls his hips and moans. Swan deepens the kiss as the other boy parts his lips with the sound. It's perfect. It’s the feeling of running his tongue along the cool metal balls of Skov’s tongue piercings, of feeling them clack against the back of his teeth, and the feeling that action sends through his entire body. Both boys pull away to breathe.

"Fuck," Skov laughs. "Love makes you so horny." It's a tease, but as usual, Swan only smiles, his thumbs going back to stroking Skov's cheeks and the look in his eyes is soft enough to make the smaller boy squirm underneath him.

"You make me horny," Swan counters without heat. "I just happen to love you so fucking much." Skov bites his lip, watching his boyfriend watch him.

"You wanna make love to me, Alex?" The question is accompanied by a shit eating grin. Make love, a cheesy phrase neither boy employs when describing sex, even when it’s with each other. A beat. Then both boys burst out laughing.

When they have control of their senses again, Swan leans down, another soft kiss and he mumbles yet another confession against Skov's lips.

"Yeah. I really do."

The next morning, Swan wakes up in bed alone. When he first opens his eyes, stretching his long limbs out, his hand lands on empty mattress rather than the warm body of his boyfriend. His brows pull together and he closes his eyes again, yawning as he scratches the bare skin of his belly, fingers brushing the coarse hair trailing under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He can hear the muffled sound of his boyfriend’s voice from the other side of their bedroom door and he listens to the sharp cadence of it for a few more minutes as he toes the line between wake and sleep. When he opens his eyes again, the LCD display of his clock reads 8:37 AM in bright green. Just the fact that the other is awake is a warning sign itself, but Skov is loud in the other room again, tone strained though Swan isn’t able to decipher his words. With a sigh, Swan hauls himself out of bed, eyelids still heavy and feet dragging on the carpet.

Making his way out of the room and past the kitchen, Swan finds Skov curled up on the couch. He’s wearing sweat shorts and one of Swan’s old camp t shirts and a scowl that could probably scare off Medusa herself. He’s on the phone though, so Swan stays silent, sitting on the couch beside his boyfriend as he tries to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Skov is quiet again, back to listening to the voice on the other end of the line but he’s clearly itching to say something, sharp words always ready on his tongue. Swan reaches out and takes one of his boyfriend’s hands, thumb brushing over scarred knuckles in slow circles. Skov doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t return the affection either.

“Mom,” He says instead, voice tight, though it’s clear, to Swan at least, that he’s trying to hide how irritated he is. His voice has taken on a tone of placid obedience reserved only for speaking to his parents but even that can’t completely dull the rebellious edge of the boy. ‘They don’t deserve him.’ Swan thinks, closing his eyes to rest his head back against the couch, but he knows that’s not his place to say. “I’m sorry. I did send flowers… Well, I thought you’d be at the resort in Kuala Lampur. …No, I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”

There’s another pause and Skov squeezes his boyfriend’s hand hard enough that Swan can feel his own knuckles scrape together under his skin. The larger boy looks up and brings his boyfriend’s hand to his mouth, delivering open mouthed kisses to the swell of his knuckles instead. Skov gives him a withering look.

“I know. I know. Mom.” And his attention is back on the call in an instant. She must be reprimanding him now, because that tone of his slipped out and Mrs. Skov won’t tolerate that kind of disrespect from her son. Swan has seen that lecture in person, and it’s not a pretty one.

Skov’s brows furrow, creasing his smooth, tan skin. Swan thinks he hears a biting tone say Nikolai from the other end of the line, and the next time Skov speaks, his voice is a soft, almost whisper.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call more often. Yes. Okay. I will. Happy Mother’s Day. …Paalam.” He hangs up, hand falling to his side, but Swan stays silent, waiting to see where Skov stands emotionally. He waits for an explosion that doesn’t come. Skov just sits there, phone clenched tightly in his hand and Swan grows more concerned. His boyfriend is not quiet by nature, and while he doesn’t think always being angry is healthy, in this instance, he would have both expected, and welcomed it. The Skovs were some of the most frustrating parents Swan had ever encountered. And he went to a private boarding school full of rich boys with mommy and daddy issues.

“Elliot?” He tries after a few prolonged moments of silence. “You good?” It’s not the right thing to ask, he knows, and it’s not what he wanted to ask, but it comes out anyway.

Skov doesn't answer, though Swan watches the muscles in his neck twitch, his jaw clenches and he grinds his teeth angrily. It would be easier, Swan thinks, if Skov hated his parents. But for reasons many of them can’t understand, a parent’s lack of love does not equal the same in the child. Skov wants his parents’ affection, hell, he just wants their attention and even if maybe, they'll never really love him, never really care about him, Skov will struggle through his interactions with them and hurt himself over and over. Swan doesn’t get it.

His dad is absent at best and he doesn’t really lose much sleep over it. His mom is enough for him. Then again, he thinks, at least he has his mom. Neither of his boyfriend's parents make an effort to pretend to care, and when they do, it’s always for selfish occasions. Fundraisers, press dates, mother's day. If Nikolai Elliot Skov can't contribute to the family, then it's easier for them to ignore his existence until an occasion he’s needed arises again. He’s never really needed though, he just helps make a better impression, when they pretend to be a happy family. Swan hates Skov's parents with every fiber of his being.

"Elliot. Talk to me, babe." Skov throws his phone against the far wall in lieu of a reply. The case stops it from breaking (they’ve learned this is a must with all their phones) but it leaves a nasty mark on the plaster. Swan knows his boyfriend. The explosion was delayed, but there it was nonetheless.

"I'm fine," Is what the smaller boy manages to grind out after the momentary outburst. "It's just the same shit." That obedient tone is gone, but there is less anger than expected, as if he’s reigned himself in. Maybe that’s what the prolonged silence was; Skov slipping from one persona to the next. Obedient to rebellious to himself. Swan never takes Skov’s attitude seriously though, or at least, he never takes it to heart.

"Okay. …Okay. So you don’t wanna talk about it."

"No. I don’t." Swan sighs.

"Alright well. You're still coming with me to mom's right? The whole family is gonna be there, you know. Kinda a big deal…." He tries for a grin, it's half-hearted, but Skov barely glances at him to notice.

"I don’t really want-"

"Please, babe? Mom was really looking forward to seeing you. It would make her day." It’s an unfair card to play. None of them can say no to Ms. Swan— Jenni as she insisted they call her— and Skov is no exception. He loves Swan's mom. The smaller boy scowls.

"Fine. But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Jenni. Because it’s Mother's Day." This time when Swan grins, it's sincere.

"Of course.  And she'll thank you on both our behalves." Skov snorts at that and Swan is just glad to get some sort of positive reaction out of him. The smaller boy peals himself off the couch in a fluid motion but when he stands, it’s not to go retrieve his phone. Swan figures it'll stay where it is for the rest of the day, or at least until they leave.

"I need to shower. Is this a formal thing?" The way he says formal is almost a sneer and Swan smiles, standing as well. His boyfriend is so cute.

"Nah. Semi-formal maybe? I dunno. No running pants. But jeans are fine."

“My whole wardrobe is running pants.” He starts as he walks to the bathroom. “Jenni won’t mind.” Swan can’t help but roll his eyes, but the affection in his smile gives him away.

“Elliot. Real pants. For once.” Feigning a put upon sigh, Skov walks into the bathroom and begins to strip off his pajamas.

“Alex. Fuck off.” He turns on the shower, but even with his face mostly turned away from his boyfriend, Swan can see the smile tugging at his lips. “If you wanted a boyfriend who wore real pants, you should have dated someone else.”

Swan laughs from his spot in the open door way, watching the muscles of the smaller boy’s back flex and shift under tan skin. Skov is beautiful and Swan’s laugh is a bright, open sound. It’s a sound that Skov always finds comfort in even at his worst moments, something that shatters the walls he’s built and pulses in his veins in a way that even the music he creates can’t compare to. Swan is a grounding force, with the patience for Skov’s loud heart and his tenacity. Not many people can say that, and both are impressive skills to have. Skov thinks Swan might be too good for him sometimes, but he will take advantage of his boyfriend’s ignorance for as long as he can. In the meantime, he gets in the shower, hoping the hot water will melt away the excess of emotions he’s had to put up with today.

Its 9:13 AM when Skov finishes washing away his heart and begins to raid his own dressers for something appropriate to wear to the Swan family gathering. Alex, the Swan taking him to the gathering, is taking his own turn in the shower and is missing the moment’s dilemma, something the shorter boy is immensely grateful for at the moment. When he had said that all he owned was jogging pants, it hadn’t necessarily been a lie. Though he does own other types of clothes, none of them are exactly what he would consider a ‘nice family’ to find presentable for an event like this. He has his formal clothes of course, but Skov only wears button ups for his parents, whether to see them, or as a duty to them, and not even his desire to impress the women that make up the Swan family will change that.

With a grumble, Skov tosses another pair of track pants over his shoulder. He debates the merits of drop crotch joggers for a conflicted moment before tossing those aside too. Swan had said jeans. Skov has a few pairs, but they’ve all got rips and tears and holes, most of them intentional.

“Uggghhhhhh.” Letting out a loud groan, Skov tugs at his own hair, shoves everything back in the drawer and tugs at the next one over. He pulls out a pair of washed out, blue jeans, skinny legged and soft. The only tears are at the knees with a third across his right thigh and the boy figures that’s probably going to be as good as it gets. After that, it’s not too hard. He pulls on a large white tee, one of Swan’s, a marbled gray sweatshirt and his army print jean jacket. He feels comfortably like himself, but he also feels like he might present as a reasonably decent human being. With a self-approving nod, Skov steps into his gray high top Adidas and waits for Swan to finish in the shower.

[queen-scribbles]

All the Comforts of Home

@pillarspromptsweekly 57: Speak (aka yay I get to write more Adi & Rekke buddyfic :DDDD)

Between her years in the Dyrwood and this current... adventure through Deadfire Archipelago, Adela had dealt with her share of homesickness. While she didn’t regret any of the things she’d learned (and very few of the things she’d seen), or friends she’d made, she couldn’t deny missing various things about home. Chief among them--more than anything aside from Mama’s cooking or spending time with Cousin Lottie--was hearing her home tongue. Given how little the various tribes and groups of Ixamitl had spread, and how content most of its denizens were to stay within its borders, she hadn’t heard Ixamitli since leaving with Odema’s caravan.

She enjoyed and appreciated other languages, of course. The musical lilt of Vailian, the complexity--and ubiquity--of Aedyran, even the beautifully practical flow of Engwithan. But nothing held a candle to the cozy familiarity of Ixamitli, with its conjured memories of smelling Ben’s latest dessert creation, or braiding Tia’s hair.

Seki came close, though. Adela had suspected as much from the day they fished Rekke out of the ocean and he’d joined her crew. His native tongue sounded almost, almost familiar to her (achingly so), and the opposite seemed to be true as well. That had probably been at least a contributing factor to her wanting to learn. She would have anyway, because languages were one of her very favorite things. But Seki’s similarity to her native Ixamitli was definitely a bonus. She still missed her home tongue, though. There was only so much talking to herself she could do to fill that void.

><><><><

“....so you two want to look for new armor, Maia, you’re visiting the cartographer, and Rekke and I are buying provisions?”  Adela glanced between her companions to confirm their plans and received nods all around. “Alright. Beodul said the repairs we need will take at least a day, so no rush.”

She waited until Aloth and Pallegina headed for the stairs to Periki’s Overlook, and Maia to Sanza’s emporium, then tugged Rekke’s sleeve to get him to follow her. “This way.”

He nodded and fell in step behind her. “Where... where are we going?”

“Oh, Serafen told me about this place, somewhere between here and the Brass Citadel, there’s an entire avenue of shops that have better prices than here in Queen’s Berth, but slightly less questionable suppliers than the Narrows.” Adela made a face. “Only, he wouldn’t tell  me exactly where it was. Said that would ruin the fun. So.” She looked up at Rekke and grinned. “Wanna go on an adventure?”

He raked wind-swept red hair back from his face and nodded, matching her grin. “Ta. Sounds fun. “

She giggled and fought the urge to skip. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. It does sound fun. Can we practice Seki while we look?”

Rekke nodded again, playing with one of the feathers Xoti had braided into his hair that morning. “If you want.”

Adela tugged the end of her braid and flashed him an even bigger grin--”Great!--before promptly switching.

><><><><

It took the better part of two hours to find what they sought--long enough Adela was beginning to wonder if Serafen had made it up--but they had fun doing it. Spent the whole time chattering in Seki, which she appreciated. Rekke had told her she was doing great, but her Seki still wasn’t as good as his Aedyran.

Besides, she thought wryly as she examined a shelf full of dried fruit, with Ondra’s Mortar between Yezuha and the rest of the world, how many kith have tried learning Seki? How’s he know I’m doing great if there’s no one to measure me against?

Even as she wondered that and deliberated what to buy, Rekke leaned around the display. “I found the fresh fruit,” he informed her, still in Seki. “What should I look for next?”

“Hardtack, I suppose,” Adela replied in slower Seki, reaching up to adjust her bandanna. “I know it’s awful, but for a last resort...”

Rekke chuckled, gently offered correction on a couple of words she mispronounced, and vanished back into the maze of the store. Adela turned her attention to the dried meats, but hadn’t been perusing them long when one of the storekeepers approached. 

“Did you need help finding anything?” he asked in faintly accented Aedyran, smile only slightly forced as he looked down at her.

She knew that tone. Folk in Ixamitl used it all the time as a barely-polite cloaked suspicion of their orlan neighbors. The fidgety clasped hands, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes, they were familiar, too. Her ears twitched back in response.

Who says the Deadfire doesn’t have all the comforts of home? she thought sarcastically, before forcing a cheery smile. “No, I’m doing fine, but thank you!” she assured him brightly, also in Aedyran.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Alright, then, let us know if you need any help.” He returned to his previous task, but she could feel his eyes on her as she shopped.

So is it the foreign language or being an orlan that made you suspicious? Adela thought wryly. She’d run into both back home. Practicing new languages under your breath in public tended to draw odd looks. Accustomed as she may have been to things of its kind, the moment was still enough to disincline her toward lingering. The shop owners kept watching her and Rekke--The unfamiliar language, then--despite the fact there were other customers in the store. So she sighed, finished collecting what they needed, and located Rekke so they could pay. The price was, of course, several pires higher than her mental calculations, but pointing that out earned a half-baked excuse of recently raised prices and the tag changes still being a work in progress. She was pretty sure that was bullshit--there was no evidence of it--but the price difference wasn’t enough to fight about, and she really didn’t feel like finding another store and hunting up all the provisions again. Besides, this store had stocked an apple-spice tea from home she hadn’t been able to find anywhere else in the whole archipelago. So she paid, waited for the purchases to be wrapped (Rekke scooped up most of them, a habit Adela had long adjusted to), and turned to leave.

They were halfway to the door when she heard it. In the smooth, rolling tones of a native speaker, Ixamitli floated up from the murmuring storekeeps.

“She’s got him well-trained, doesn’t she?” the one who had approached her said derisively. “Shouldn’t it be the other way ‘round?”

“Aye,” the other agreed. “Must be awful lily-livered t’ not stand up for himself. Lookit, she don’t even come to his waist ‘less you count the ears.”

Said ears--as well as her face--burning with indignation, Adela pivoted on one heel, looked them both dead in the eye, and in equally natural Ixamitli spat, “At least he has the guts to share his opinions of people to their faces.” She spun back and marched out the door. Never shopping here again, even if they do have my favorite tea.

“What did you say to make them look like ghosts?” Rekke asked as they headed back towards Queen’s Berth.

“They were saying bad things about us in my home tongue,” she replied carefully. “They’re prob’ly also from Ixamitl with some of the things they sold. It’s also not a common language to encounter outside our borders. I scolded them for it, also in Ixamitli, so they knew I understood what they said.”

“Oh. What did they say?” he asked, shifting the bundles he carried to brush hair out of his eyes.

“Just the sort of thing any orlan’s heard at least a dozen times unless they’re extremely lucky,” she shrugged. Not what I had in mind with ‘I miss home’.

“You said us,” Rekke reminded her. “What did they say about me?”

“It wasn’t nice, isn’t that enough?” Adela mumbled, but he raised an eyebrow and she sighed, nodding toward the packages he held. “They think you’re a wuss for not standing up to me and doing all the carrying.”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Wuss?”

“Coward,” she elaborated.

Rekke actually laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m holding off a kraken so Tekéhu or Xoti can toss little bombs in its mouth,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” she agreed, snickering, before her mood tilted back south. “I just... I’ve been missing Ixamitl; my family, the people, the language, at least a little for five years now. Wishing for it, sometimes. That was not what I had in mind.” She gave a soft, snorting laugh. “Though it does fit. All the comforts of home; tea, dried fruit, casual prejudice....”

“They don’t know you any more than they knew me,” Rekke pointed out.  “Tagukin.”

She laughed. “I know.”

“When we get back to the ship you can braid more beads in my hair,” Rekke offered. “If it will help you feel better.”

This laugh was more genuine, and Adela felt her spirits life at just his concern.  “Ta, it would. Trying to look like a pirate?”

He nodded, grinning. “Ta. If I do it well enough, do you think the crew will make me captain?”

She chuckled, shooting him a bemused look. “Do you really want to be?”

“No. You make a good casita,” he winked.

“Irrena teach you that?”

“Not on purpose,” Rekke said cheerfully. “But it was easy to figure out.”

Adela raised an eyebrow. “I think you might be even better at languages than I am.”

“Casita is easy, though,” he pointed out. “Especially here. Aloth told me you know Engwithan. That is the squiggly one we find on ruins sometimes, ta? It looks much harder.”

“Well, I had help,” she protested, thinking back to Icantha and the memories of her Inquisitor-self.

Rekke smiled at her, so wide the freckles crinkled into the corners of his eyes. “So do I.”

Adela smiled back and the two of them moved back to more frivolous topics for the rest of their walk.

><><><><

Once they were aboard the ship once again, and she’d had time to brew some of the divine-smelling tea, and taken Rekke up on his offer to play with his hair, the tension of the days’ events finally started bleeding out

“If you want,” Rekke piped up when Adela was halfway through her second bead-laced braid, “I could learn Ixamitl and talk it with you like you do for me with Seki.”

Adela smiled and bit her lip. “Oh, Rekke, that’s very sweet, but you don’t have to do that.”

He half-turned, almost pulling the braid from her hands, and winked at her. “I want to, Adi. If we are going to visit each other’s homes, it only makes sense, ta?”

She laughed and finished off the braid. “An excellent point.”

“Also, I think it will be fun.” Rekke settled back in so she could start another of the narrow braids.

“I will do my very best,” Adela promised with a smile, and started braiding. My favorite tea, good friends.... now this is all the comforts of home.