#octoshroom

[octoshroom]

Go easy on yourself today.

Be a little kinder, a little softer, a little gentler, and if you have the room for it, a little more generous.

If you're here, reading this today, there's no doubt you've been through a lot. We all have. You've had a lot of things to grapple with, and the powers that be have likely not made conquering them much easier. You've overcome many of those battles, some easily, and some with great friction. There are others, however, I'm sure you didn't walk away from unwounded. There are some that still sting, and some are losses you might keep private and hidden. No one has a perfect run, though. If you're reading this, you've fought for a long time, and despite your trials you're still here.,

I'm proud of you. You should be too.

[alexapdos]

Vtober day 6 - Octoshroom!

today is sunday, but that doesn't matter. there is no lord here. only Pibbus.

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍: 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Memories flood Neteyam's mind as he deals with your accident, making him relieve your history and all the reasons he can't shake you from his life, no matter how hard he tries.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death)

wc: 5.1k words

a/n: I'm actually really nervous about this chapter, because while I love it, it's different than any other Monster in Me chapter so far. This is also the only chapter I've ever written entirely from the MMC's POV, and I hope you enjoy finally finding out why Neteyam's been acting the way he has, and why he's so adamant in his quest for vengeance. As always, thank you for asking to be tagged, I'd love to hear your feedback, your replies and asks and reblogs make my life, so thank you! Thank you to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art, ilysm bestie x and thank you to @draiochtwrites for listening to me talk about my stupid ideas for hours every day, i love you x

na'vi compendium: txepvi  - spark, ite - daughter, srane - yes, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, tam-tam - calm, oare - moon, tewng - loincloth, torukspxam - octoshroom, ngaytxoa - I'm sorry, 'itan - son, angtsìk - Hammerhead Titanothere, yarik - herbivore, ftang - stop, tsantu - good guy, tsìltsan 'eve - good girl, kali'weya - arachnoid used in Uniltaron

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

And maybe in another life We fight all day, kiss all night But I don't wanna break your heart You keep yours, I'll keep mine

Neteyam, for the first time in his life, couldn’t have cared less if he tried that there was a battle underway, that there were humans screaming and charging at the Na’vi around him, that the explosions happening every time a helicopter went down in flames deafened his ears - none of it mattered anymore, not as he heard the screech of an ikran he knew all too well, that he loved, that was now lifelessly falling towards the ground, taking the woman of his worst nightmares and biggest fantasies along, not when, with every second passing where he ignored the rest of his surroundings and dove as fast as his own ikran could possibly fly in order to make it to you in time, another memory flashed across his mind, so many memories he thought he left behind, so many memories that would haunt his every waking moment if he wouldn’t catch you, if he was too late. 

“Teyam, do you trust me?” 

“What kind of question is that? You’re my best friend. Of course I trust you.” 

Your mischievous smile, although more devious than Neteyam liked, always had power to put his heart to ease… after all, it was you. You, his best friend, the girl who knew everything about him, that helped him withstand every challenge life threw at him, just a couple 11 year olds who had gone through more than most adults do, who have been forced to grow up a lot faster than any kid their own age should ever do. But Neteyam didn’t mind. Maybe he used to, back when he was young and naive. Back then, he cried a lot, each morning a dreaded reminder of the pain and ache that awaited him each day, all for a purpose he couldn’t quite understand yet, that made no sense in a child’s mind, that had no way of truly understanding the concept of a future littered with war and loss, a future where he would carry the burden of being the next leader of his clan, the eldest son of the mighty, revered Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto, the grandson of brave, respected leaders, the next in line of a ruling dynasty filled with great people he had to follow and to live up to. 

Now, he no longer cried, because no matter how hard life got, he was never alone. Because, even though you didn’t have quite the same pressure on your shoulders, you carried your own burdens and a sadness deeper than Neteyam could ever imagine or could ever want to. In his mind, the sting from a few bloodied gashes and the headaches that tried him each night were a small inconvenience compared to the pain that you struggled with and braved every moment since your parents died. When his father told him that you would be joining him for training in the weeks after the accident, Neteyam didn’t know what to expect. But day after day, you managed to blow not only his expectations, but his entire family’s out of the water, each day just another opportunity for you to prove to everyone that your future would be as bright as all the stars in the night combined, that you were special and unique, that you were a talent that only comes once in a few lifetimes.

Now, years later, Neteyam still found it hard to believe how strong you were, how capable and skilled and fearless. Whereas he’s always been more withdrawn and temperate, your fire burned strong and untamed, and you always managed to get both of you in trouble - if he were to be honest with himself, though, he would never mind, not with you. 

“Good. Then let’s go.” 

You didn’t bother looking behind you as you started sprinting, your flowy top and tewng, always one-of-a-kind, undulating in the wind, making Neteyam’s heart flutter in his chest. You were so beautiful. The most beautiful. A purple flush rising in his cheeks was all that was needed for Neteyam to be grateful for the way you always ran ahead of him, too impatient to wait for a boy that liked to take his time and enjoy the moments few and in between in which life didn’t have to go too fast for his comfort. 

"Where are we going, Vi?"

"Shhh, more walking, less talking, 'Teyam. You need to learn to embrace the unknown." you chuckled as you stopped and waited for him to catch up, before taking him by the hand and pulling him until he stumbled softly onto you and you both fell, him on top of you, with a gasp that turned into loud giggles from your side and unflinching groans from his.

"Vi..."

"The mighty warriors have fallen, what will the clan do without us?"

He couldn't help his own exasperated chuckle and the roll of his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't think we're quite there yet."

You shrugged, sure of yourself as always, a trait Neteyam admired and tried to emulate, to little avail most days.

"Soon. Your dad's already talking about the Iknimaya. We're almost ready, Teyam. And if we do it soon, we'll be the youngest Na'vi to ever do it. You and me."

Before he could say anything, you reached for him until your lips made contact with his cheeks, and it didn't help his blush, that was now deep periwinkle and burning his skin from the inside out, like a fire that wanted to escape his body, too powerful to be contained inside it.

"And just like today, if you ever fall, I'll always be there to catch you. You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together."

Those words rang painfully in Neteyam's ears as his ikran dove at full speed towards the ground, as his open, stretched out hand was just outside of your reach, as he watched your body disappear through the trees, where it would inevitably crash, where it might be lost forever.

His heart, that was going as fast as his ikran was, watching your unconscious form collect deep, bleeding scars like Kiri collected pebbles in the woods with every hard branch your body made contact with, stopped racing in his chest as, by the grace of Eywa, your fall was broken by the plush, attenuating force of a torukspxam right before you hit the ground. Despite the fear, so deeply embedded in him, it was impossible to know if he would ever be able to fully detach himself from it again, a seed of hope bloomed in him that maybe he wasn't too late. That maybe, despite not being able to catch you, not now nor for the past 7 years in which he's left built up resentment prevent him from wanting to, maybe he wasn't too late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He didn't wait for Seze to land before he jumped and approached you, pushing with all his might against the drag of his own heavy body that felt like it was experiencing the world in slow motion, until one of his hands found the back of your neck, propping you up gently and his other hand placed two fingers on your pulse point, trying to feel for a heartbeat that would either calm his own or stop it altogether.

"Please, Txepvi. Please..."

When the small, barely-felt flutters registered in him, he let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding and wasted no time in picking you up bridal-style and running back to his beautiful ikran. He had no time to dwell on the cracks deepening in his heart as he watched Seze bumping her snout on the side of Oare's lifeless face, sorrowful trills filling his ears, no time to dwell on the red liquid spilling out from multiple points in your body, dripping down his body and onto the ground, no time to stop yet another memory fighting to come to the forefront of his mind.

Fickle as you are That's exactly why I keep on running back 'Cause I'm brittle at the parts Where I wish I was strong

“I can walk, Teyam.” 

Neteyam decided to ignore you as he grabbed you by the back of your knees and carried you back to the village, the gash in your leg large enough to have hit a couple veins and stain your thigh red, but not deep enough to make it life-threatening - still, Neteyam wouldn’t take any chances. Taking chances… that was the reason for keeping you so close to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck… that was the only reason. 

“Can you, Vi? Isn’t that how this happened in the first place?” He chuckled, yelping a little when your fist made contact with his chest. 

“It was an accident, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you have a lot of accidents. And so close to the Iknimaya, too…” the shake of his head was mostly a teasing one, and although he tried to push away the nagging fear eating away at him, the one that told him you might not be able to take it with him, the one that screamed he’d be all alone once more, like he was before you, the one that urged bad memories and ugly scenarios into his mind, the one whose ugly head appeared as though from around the corner, staring intently to see if he’ll allow it to approach or banish it from existence. He couldn't decide yet.

He couldn’t do this without you. He needed you to be his first flight. Like you told him last year, and like it’s been solidified in his soul every day since, you and him were meant to rise and fall together. You were meant to fly together, to soar together. And that couldn’t happen if a tiny accident delayed your progress. 

“Aw, it’s sweet you’re worried, although I think it’s mostly selfish and you’re just too scared to do the Iknimaya by yourself.”

The tinge in his cheeks is enough validation for you to start laughing at him, your head thrown so far back, he had to readjust his grip on you, so that you wouldn’t fall out of his arms. 

“I knew it! You scaredy-cat. Why would you be scared, Teyam? Out of everyone here, everyone who’s gonna do this next, out of all of us, you are the best. You’ve always been the best.” 

“No. You’re the best." As much wasn't up for discussion to him, and never will be. "And you promised.” 

Your smile softened taking him in, the little pout he tried his best to conceal, the little scrunch of his nose, the way his ears twitched in slight annoyance and slight embarrassment… he couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought you found it… endearing? 

“I know what I promised. And I intend to keep my promise. You don’t have to worry, Teyam. You and I have always been two sides of the same coin. And as long as you want me by your side, nothing could ever pry me away.” 

"Just hang on, please. Shit. Please don't die. Please don't die."

And maybe when you need my help I like myself when it's over But later in the light, you go Dark and rogue, and I need closure

“Ma ‘ite, you have to be more careful.” The quiet, teasing admonishments of his grandmother do little do deter you, although you keep your eyes on the ground, slight embarrassment visible in the swish of your tail and the flatness of your ears.

“Srane, ma Tsa’hik. Ngaytxoa.”

The thick cream paste made its way from Mo’at’s fingers to your thigh, where it was spread in a hefty layer until the cut was no longer visible. You winced as it made contact with your skin, but said nothing as you accepted the help, and Neteyam saw his grandmother nod in approval at your bravery and inclination to suffer in silence, to not let anyone know you’re in pain at any point. Strong heart. Him, on the other hand, wished you were a bit more forthcoming, wished you didn’t feel the need to go through suffering alone. With a pat on your head and a soft smile, the Tsa’hik raised from her spot on the floor and turned her back on you both.

“You’re all done. It’s just a scratch, this time. I feel like I always have to have extra healing salve at the ready just for you. Now go, and be careful. Your Iknimaya is soon and my grandson would never forgive you if you missed it.” 

“Neteyam, quick, put her on the mat. I need all the help I can get, now! Go get all the healers in training, we don’t have a lot of time.” The barking of orders did little to ease Neteyam’s fear, as he very rarely has ever seen his grandmother this agitated. After sending away the trainees, she turned to her grandson and took a deep breath, to calm herself. As serious her voice was, as rushed and violent the atmosphere around them, she still found the second to put her hand on her grandson’s chest, feeling the erratic, loud, trepidous heartbeat that refused to settle in him. 

“Ma ‘itan, she’s very weak. I know you haven’t been close in a long time, but she is your intended mate. I need you to prepare yourself for the worst. Now go back to the battle.” 

“No. I’m staying here.”

Neteyam didn’t get scared often. A whole lifetime of being raised like a soldier made his skin as thick as an 'angtsìk’s, and little ever managed to get under it. You did. You had unmatched prowess to make him feel so many things, too many things, all too intense, all too powerful, all too overbearing. When he was young, all of them were good and pure, all exciting and hopeful - love. It was love. Now, he feels anger and resentment, vengeful spite and deep arousal, all of which poison his mind and make him a version of himself he hates. Hate. That’s it. It’s all hate, isn’t it? So if it is… why are his limbs trembling and eyes watering, why is his mind jumbled with all these memories, why has the blood coursing through his veins been irreparably polluted with so much deep, earth-shattering terror and grief at the thought of losing you? Why was there a crater in his chest where his heart usually resided when he imagined his life without you in it?

Maybe it's because, for better or for worse, you were a constant in his life. From the second your presence made its way to him, you never left. There hasn't been a day that he hasn't seen you, that he hasn't been in your vicinity, not a day in which you haven't trained together, side by side, friends before, enemies after, but always together. Your words, that he drowned for years, came back like an undying echo ringing in his ears.

"You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together..."

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah, what's the use?

More and more, it felt like you had been right all along. He didn't think about it for so long, so desperate in his attempts to hurt you like you had hurt him, to sour your life like how you soiled his most precious memories, all of you and him, all of a childhood long left behind, all of fantasies he's harboured at the time that long dissipated from the version of future he used to dream about. Nothing about his life now was how he once envisioned, and that was because of you. He would never forgive you, but he couldn't let you go, either. No matter how the visions differed from his current reality, he couldn't shake you, couldn't let you go. Because despite it all, he couldn't part with the girl that used to be his partner in crime, his training buddy, his best friend, his first flight.

"Are you ready?"

Neteyam watched in awe as you confidently nodded at his father, smiling as if the hardest challenge an Omaticaya Na'vi would ever undertake, one that most people did when they were much, much older, was nothing to you, like it was just another yarik hunt that you've done a thousand times before. You turned to him and the smile you gave him dazzled him, left him breathless, not a good thing for the trek he was about to undertake, but still, not something he would could ever find it in himself to be upset about. You turned your attention momentarily to the bowl of paint in your hands before you brought a finger to his face, completing the pattern that was the same as the one you were adorning, one that he painted on you.

You both took turns saying goodbye to everyone, paying special attention to the little bundle in Neytiri's arms. Neteyam couldn't believe this was his little sister, and couldn't believe how attentive you were with her, how careful and loving. Some of his personality must be rubbing off on you, because to the Sully family's surprise, you didn't drop Tuk once in the year she's been born. In fact, you haven’t dropped anything in the last couple of months, including yourself from high places, which used to be one of your favourite past times, and Neteyam couldn't help blush at the thought that he was the reason you were being a little more careful.

As expected, the climb was the hardest thing Neteyam ever put his body through, and he felt suddenly grateful for all the years of torturous training that now felt like a peaceful breeze of the wind in an otherwise unyielding hurricane. Still, seeing you in front of him, not once complaining, not in front of the multiple 15 to 19 year olds that were also taking their rite of passage today, not in front of your Olo'eyktan, made him push through, too. If you could do it, so could he. Because you would do it, so would he.

The rookery was hidden behind a waterfall, and Neteyam watched as one by one, the few Na'vi joining you both either failed or succeeded, and with each attempt, his fear grew stronger, his mind more restless. Eventually, it was his turn, and with a deep breath, he started walking towards the slippery ledge that would lead him to his fate. A hand on his chest not only stopped him in his tracks, but also stopped his heart momentarily, just momentarily, because before he knew it, it started booming again with enough intensity to dizzy him.

"Ma tsantu... you got this. Remember, you and I, we're meant t-"

"-to fall and rise together, I know." you smile, your fingers smoothing the deep frown that gave Neteyam a headache without even realising and he sighed, trying to calm his mind and soul, focusing on you and only you.

"Exactly. So you can't fall, because if you do, I'll have to follow you... and I don't intend to fall yet, Teyam. Not yet."

"How did this happen?"

"Oare... got shot. She's dead. She... fell. I couldn't catch her." I couldn't catch her...

Neteyam couldn't bear to look at the way his grandmother was ripping you apart, although he knew it was all with the purpose of putting you back together again. Her trainees, all girls he knew, some girls he knew more intimately than others, all flocked around you, with wet cloths and trays of balms and powders, of plants and tinctures, and it all hurt, the guilt of knowing to some extent, to a large extent, this was all his fault. This ongoing war between you, never-ending and harrowing, reached a nadir that resulted in the death of your ikran, in your accident, and indirectly, because of your removal and his from the battlefield, might result in the deaths of good na'vi men and women, all of whom had families and a life, and a future they would be robbed of.

Neteyam couldn't leave you and go back. If he did, he knew that much like you, he wouldn't be able to focus enough to matter, and the thought of his mother, of his father, losing one more loved one was too much to bear. Neteyam couldn't leave you, but he couldn't stay here either. It hurt, being here, watching flashes of the girl he hates intertwined with the girl he loved more than anything else in the world, it hurt, having to deal with feelings he buried deep down and memories that came to him like summer rain, uninterrupted and warm, but powerful enough to flood and leave damage their wake.

With one last look at your unconscious form, Neteyam left the village on the back of his Ikran, knowing there was one thing he needed to do, he had to do. His mind was overcome with agonising sorrow as Seze's mourning was felt through his entire being, and the full weight of what transpired came crashing down on him like a tidal wave he could do little to stop, but had to power through, hoping that by the end there was something left of his heart to go on. Oare, much like Seze, has been in his life every day for the last 7 years, and he loved her. She was playful and sweet, and she always played with him when he snuck out at night to give her pets and treats, refusing to let your declining relationship affect their bond. Oare was Seze's best friend, her companion and life partner, and Neteyam knew her death would affect his ikran for a long time, perhaps forever.

With a squeal that matched the banshee, Neteyam watched from the air, on the back of his new mount, his new friend, his new spirit sister, as you made Tsaheylu, and his heart, that has been barely beating in anxious fear, felt finally awake again.

"Ftang! Tam tam, tsìltsan 'eve." your smile was wide and relieved as your eyes searched the sky until they found his, and he swore he never knew it was possible to love someone so much, to feel so connected to a soul, so much so it felt like he could hear you, your heartbeat and your mind, like tsaheylu would have been redundant because he knew. He just knew.

"I did it, Teyam!"

"Yes, you did, Vi! Come, first flight seals the bond."

That day was Neteyam's happiest day. That memory is still something that he cherishes deeply, that he'll never be able to shake, that haunts him at night, that shakes his resolve whenever he's thinking of a new way to make you pay. That memory is still untarnished in his mind, and it will always remain so, especially today, as he's fastening Oare's lifeless form onto Seze, petting her one last time, allowing the tears he's been stubbornly pushing back this entire day to finally fall from his cheeks onto her face, almost like she was the one crying, one last time.

"I'm sorry, girl. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry that I beat you... again. You're gonna have to do much better than this to beat me, Teyam."

The floating rock you landed on, hours after you finished your Iknimaya, was alit with biofluorescence, the colours reflecting in your eyes and on your shiny skin, covered in a light layer of sweat from the flight.

"Give me a break, Vi. It's my first time doing this."

"Yeah, cause I've been doing it for ages." you say, chuckling and rolling your eyes. You prop your body on your elbows and point to the two banshees playing in the air with each other, a mass of ravelling green and purple, so beautiful, and so, so free.

"I can't take all the credit. She did most of the work. I love her already, Teyam. Do you have a name in mind for yours?"

Neteyam didn't have to think about it too much. Ever since he's first found out about the Iknimaya, a story told to him by his mother consolidated a name in his memory that he's never been able to forget.

"Seze. Like my mother's ikran that bravely gave her life in the war against the Sky People."

"That's pretty. And fitting. She's a beautiful flower."

"What about you?"

"Oare."

"Why?"

"I used to look at the moons every night and think I'm so far away from this, from my destiny, from who I've always known I was meant to be, the Iknimaya might as well have been the moon - unreachable, untouchable, a world away. And now, I'm here, with you, way past curfew, and we're gonna get in so much trouble and I couldn't care less because I did it, I reached the moon. And I did it with the only person I ever wanted to. So.. Oare."

"Thank you, Teyam. I learnt a lot from you in these years. Ever since I met you, I knew you were special. And I think, even without realising, I wanted to be more like you. I've looked up to you for so long, I don't even remember my life before the Sullys took me in. If I'm here today, it's because of you. You helped me become more temperate and understand the weight of my talent and my power, and that I have a responsibility to the clan, that this is bigger than me, and my life."

Neteyam was taken aback at your words. You were never this forthcoming with your feelings normally, but he couldn't say he wasn't happy about it. He was so happy.

"I love you, Vi. I may have made you more responsible, but you made me better. Braver. More creative, more inventive. I almost couldn't finish the Iknimaya today, and then one of your crazy ideas popped in my head, and it worked. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have done this without you, without your influence in my life. Thank you."

You smiled softly, and put your head on his chest, just watching the dance of the banshees, and he prayed that this moment would never end.

"I guess we really are meant to be together then, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess we are."

Neteyam placed Oare in the village, where the elders and Tsa'hik would be able to perform Eywa's funeral rituals, before making his way back to the tent. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped him as he was met with your drowsy, blood-shot eyes, so much sadness in them, it broke him. They were so different then the ones that have haunted Neteyam's mind today, so devoid of the innocence and love he remembered, so filled with anger and spite and hurt, so much like his own, such a bitter reminder that the past was only that, the past, and there was nothing left of you, or of him, of the love you shared and the future he envisioned. With one last memory, Neteyam felt the walls surrounding his heart, thick and unflinching, growing harder with every year since the Iknimaya, fortify yet again, as one last memory emerged uninvited and reminded him of why, despite your history, Neteyam would never look at you the same way again.

And I know whatever this is ain't love So I'm goin' I'm gonna let you go, let you go

"I'm going to go back to my tent. I had too much of a good day to spoil it by Jake yelling at me for 2 hours straight. I'd rather save the pleasure for tomorrow."

"That's so unfair, why do I have to suffer by myself?"

A shrug was all the answer you felt was necessary to give him, and he felt his heart drop at the notion of going to his family's tent so late, so far past curfew, without your much more argumentative presence, that his father could never resist. He walked cautiously, silently, praying that his family would be asleep so he could just sneak in and postpone the yelling until tomorrow. To his surprise, he heard whispered voices coming from right outside the tent, whispers he quickly recognised as his father and grandmother's.

"... that it should be her. She should be the next Olo'eykte. That she is the most deserving of it, has been since she was young. It took a long time to see it for myself, but... I don't know. Maybe he.."

...Olo'eykte? You? Neteyam couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe how quickly his father was willing to replace him, how quickly he considered you better and more worthy of the title than his own son, than the rightful heir. You were both 12, for Eywa's sake. How could a decision be made so early? Neteyam felt tears gather in his eyes, the betrayal's sting more painful than a kali'weya's, and yet, still, a part of him knew this already. A part of him couldn't find it in him to be upset, because you were better. And you deserved to lead, you deserved to fulfil your destiny, that was made for greatness, made for the songs and the ballads, made for history.

"It's Neteyam's birthright, Jakesulli. It wouldn't be right, no matter how worthy the girl is. What about a mateship? They have been inseparable for years anyhow."

"Ah, she would never want to be Tsa'hik. And she wouldn't be good at it anyway. Besides..." the silence felt like it dragged on forever, and he clung on to it, afraid of what was waiting for him at the end of it.

"I mentioned it to her. She said she... doesn't want to mate with Neteyam. That she couldn't ever love him the way a mate would. She was... very adamant about it."

As Neteyam looked into your eyes, those words forever embedded in his psyche, playing in his ears like a cacophony of sounds that rattled him every time he saw you, even so many years later, solidified in him by all the times you continued to hurt him, continued flaunting your relationships and skills to him, your connection and closeness to his own family, that sometimes he felt like he didn't belong in anymore, like he was the adoptive one... he was reminded that every time, it hurt, every day, it broke him further, and those eyes that were once his guidepost and the reason he got up in the morning, were now empty and bleak, and enough to make anger bubble in his soul once more, until it drowned everything else, until it was all that was left.

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah what's the use? I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That I can win this stupid thing called love

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[naavispider]

Chapter 14 - If you playing me that mean my home aint home

The support on this fic has been so amazing I'm a puddle of gratitude 😭 I never, ever expected it to take off the way it has, and have really become attached to it.

There he lay, dead on the ground, eyes open and blood gently seeping from his chest.

"Get over here, now!" Quaritch called, anger like venom in his voice.

Spider couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything, only stare. Quaritch was shouting furiously but Spider couldn't hear him. Next thing he knew, Quaritch was on him, pulling him away from the body towards the other recoms, where Mansk was lying on the ground, panting heavily to control the pain in his leg.

"No!" Spider shouted, pushing and pulling against Quaritch's grip. There was no way he was going anywhere with him. "Get off me!" he screamed, a sob finally breaking through his shock. "You killed him- You killed him-" he fought desperately to run from Quaritch's grip. He needed to be anywhere but here. Quaritch didn't say anything - he wasn't defending himself as he grabbed Spider's hands in one of his and roughly slapped on the red bindings again.

Spider sobbed in misery, falling to the floor - there was nothing else he could do.

The rest of the recoms were gathered over Mansk, anxiously assessing the situation and trying to help. Savine looked dead herself as she rummaged through the trauma kit, looking for something to stem the bleeding. Wainfleet was tying a tourniquet around Mansk's thigh, and Fike was injecting some kind of liquid into the skin around the wound. Quaritch left Spider on the ground and called into his communicator.

"Delta one, this is Romeo troop, over."

"Romeo troop, send your traffic," Spider heard in his earpiece.

"We require an immediate medical extraction. Mansk is down with a class 4 penetrative stab wound."

"What's your pos?"

"Sector 21, 51.5033° N, 0.1196° W."

"Stand by for extraction."

Quaritch moved over to Mansk and Spider panicked. Were they going back to base? No. He wouldn't.

He rose slowly, not caring about being seen, not caring if he'd get far. All he knew was that he couldn't stand another minute with the RDA. With Quaritch.

He bolted.

He had never ran so fast in his life. His breath burned as he flew through the forest, leaping over fallen logs, octoshrooms, boulders, roots and vines, pitcher plants; all of it a blur. He almost lost his balance with his hands tied but by some miracle managed to keep himself upright and travelling forwards at a pace he was sure he'd never reached before. It felt like his body was going too fast for his brain to keep up - surely he'd stumble soon? The recoms would catch up and he'd be shipped off back to the General and her death machine. It wasn't happening. Ignoring the raging stitch in his side he screamed as he pushed himself on.

He had no idea where he was going. He arrived suddenly at a creek which was too wide for him to jump, and too steep on the other side to scramble up. He veered right and started running parallel along its bank.

Terror tore at his insides as he heard shouting from behind him. His scream caught in his throat - it was Quaritch, in pursuit. How far behind him he was, Spider had no idea. His legs burned as he leapt over the forest debris; stones, rocks, spines and roots all abused his bare feet as he ducked under branches and vines, running through them without time to properly avoid them.

"Spider!"

Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God. Quaritch must be 30 or 40 yards behind. Spider knew he would eventually out-run him. He was only human. Sheer panic drove him on. He looked around as he ran, eyes wild, desperately searching for somewhere to hide. He was too terrified to stop though. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Seconds later, the creek seemed to widen and the bank on the other side looked less steep - now was his chance. Jumping the 10 or so feet down into the stream without caring whether he hurt himself, he landed in the wet, immediately screwing his ankle.

He couldn't hear anyone calling him anymore - had Quaritch given up? As soon as he thought it, Spider knew that was crazy. Blinded by his terror, he dragged his body up the other side of the bank and all pain from his ankle radiated away with renewed adrenaline. He was still going. It was difficult with his hands tied but he managed to clear the bank and then he was up, only now he realised how painful his breathing was becoming, how his legs ached - they could barely support him anymore.

Spider thought of the Na'vi man's face just before he died - the resolute way he had understood and agreed to help him - and Spider cried out again as he pushed his screaming body on. Over a boulder, across a log, and then he didn't know what came first.

"You dumb kid," a voice terrifyingly close behind him shouted in his ear, a hand closed down on his shoulder, he tripped and fell under the pressure, and then Quaritch's other hand was on his arm, grabbing him, holding him down. He cried out as he fought to get up, crawling forward as if he still had a chance. He would die before he gave up. The weight bearing down became too much and Quaritch had him pinned down. Spider gasped for air, already oxygen deprived as tears fell freely inside his mask. He reached one arm forward, clawing at the soil, still trying to escape.

"It's over." Quaritch was panting heavily on top of him. He flipped Spider over and Spider struggled with all his might. He couldn't face this. He wouldn't.

"It's over Spider," Quaritch puffed.

"Get off me!" Spider screamed.

The recom didn't reply, just held Spider's hands down in one of his, while speaking into his communicator with the other.

"You killed him! You killed- He didn't do anything!" Spider shouted, hissing and resorting back to Na'vi when English failed him.

Quaritch was ignoring him however, instead talking over the communicator words that Spider was uninterested in listening to. After several minutes of this, Spider felt his energy fading. A sob escaped him again and he realised there was no way out of this. He'd been so close. Twice.

"Did you forget about the tracker?" Quaritch demanded, turning his attention back down to Spider. "What did you think was gonna happen exactly? You'd run off to your little forest friends and get them to sacrifice themselves in the vain hope of getting you back?"

Spider closed his eyes, trying to roll away from Quaritch.

Quaritch shook his head, appraising the boy. "You just ruined my day."

Spider tried again unsuccessfully to pull his hands free.

"Colonel this is Delta One, standing by for extraction," came a voice from the communicator.

"Stand by, we are ten minutes inbound."

No. No. "Please," Spider tried, as Quaritch roughly lifted him up and dragged him into standing.

"Walk." Quaritch commanded.

"Fuck you."

Quaritch growled. Spider stood defiant. He wasn't going anywhere willingly. The recom pulled his AR around from its position slung across his back, and pointed it at Spider's leg.

The Colonel stared him down. "Let's try again, you walk your ass back to the clearing, or I'll put a hole through your leg. "

Spider stared. He looked from the rifle that was only inches away from his thigh, to Quaritch's face above, which was set completely in stone. Would you really do it? Spider didn't know. He had never seen Quaritch as pissed as he was now. He'd just killed a man. Quaritch's eyes were black, deep and filled with fury.

Spider jumped as Quaritch fired a round of bullets at a spot only a foot away from Spider's leg.

"I ain't kidding, kid."

With no choice, Spider gasped as he turned around, trying to work out the direction back to the squad. Quaritch shoved his shoulder with the end of his gun.

"Move," he growled.

And so Spider did.

He walked in a dream-like haze back through the forest, having no idea which direction to take and relying only on Quaritch's shoves to guide him. The adrenaline had started to wear off now, and he started shivering from the thick layer of sweat that covered his body. He could put less and less weight on his ankle the longer they walked. His mask beeped, warning him that his oxygen was below 20%. Neither of them said anything.

What would happen now? Spider felt like he was walking towards his death. He had to accept whatever would come. Making peace with his fate was the only way he could get through this.

"Delta one, stand by, we are one minute to arrival," Quaritch spoke into the silence.

"Received, ready and waiting, over," came the response.

Spider closed his eyes as he stepped over an octoshroom, accepting this would probably mean the Death Machine again. He tried to calm his heartbeat, to savour every breath of filtered forest air before- well, before he might never see the daylight again. He focused on the feel of the forest floor under his feet, the soft moss, even the stones that caused so much pain under his already bloody feet were a welcome distraction from thinking about going back to the RDA as a prisoner.

Eventually, the sounds of the aircraft filtered through the canopy and they reached the area where two ropes were already dangling from high above. Spider looked up, unsure he could go through with it. One of the ropes had a harness attached.

"Put it on," Quaritch instructed, his rifle still trained on Spider. Spider unclipped the main buckle and fastened it back around his waist. He did the same for the straps around his thighs, and Quaritch clipped the harness he was already wearing on. Then they were away.

Spider gasped and clung to the rope that was lifting him up, higher and higher, away from the forest floor, until they were clear of the dense trees. The wind from the aircraft engines was deafening, and Spider's body convulsed with shivers he knew had nothing to do with the cold. Then they were inside the belly of the Dragon Gunship and doors slid closed beneath them. Humans in masks swarmed on top of Spider, grabbing his hands and unclipping him from the harness. They pulled him away in the direction of the left side airlock, and he could see on the right hand side of the hanger a large group of people - humans and Na'vi - huddled around what looked like the injured Mansk.

"Take him to a cell," Quaritch spat to the humans who were gripping Spider.

Spider caught Quaritch's eye as the recom watched them drag him away. Disgust was plastered over Quaritch's face, and his eyes betrayed... could it be disappointment?

Spider hissed at Quaritch as his final parting words, before summoning his last remaining strength to punch the nearest human in the face, managing to damage their mask and give them a bloody nose, as he was pulled through the airlock to await his uncertain fate.

[silly-lil-dud3]

octoshroom

[glasswhistles]

octoshrooms

[marlynnofmany]

Several Degrees of Normal

I was putting a serious effort towards accepting the weirdness of my new home.  It wasn’t easy.  Every time I took something for granted, assuming it would behave like it did on Earth, I found myself amazingly wrong.  But since there wasn’t much I could do about it, I’d finally decided to see if I could be more levelheaded about the situation.  I was tired of my roommate making fun of me when I freaked out.

So it was with this in mind that I followed him on a mushroom-collecting trip through the woods.  I had no intention of eating the things — even mundane Earth fungus was something I steered clear of — but the pointy-eared bastard wanted some, and he’d talked me into coming along.  

He gave me vague guidelines and a basket, and said to keep an eye out for bright colors among the dirt.  I simply nodded.  

And I felt quite proud of myself when a cluster of tiny gnome-like beings popped up from a hole and scuttled across my shoes.  I didn’t make a sound.  I jumped and shook the last of them off, but I didn’t scream like a child, so that was progress.  The roomie didn’t even notice.

After a few more minutes of walking, we reached a colorful glen with all sorts of weird things growing.  He was off like a shot.  

“Ooh, hogswart!  And ferrywhether, and molestongue…  Look at the size of that one!”  He was all over the place like a toddler on Christmas.  I stood with my basket and tried to decide which bizarro thing to pick first.  

Well, we were there for mushrooms, and that purple thing looked like a mushroom.  Of course, it also looked like an octopus.  There were tentacle arms festooned with suction cups all along the rim of the mushroom’s cap.  And they moved, of course.  Picking this thing would surely be unpleasant.  

After a moment of dithering, I settled on a twig and a scrap of bark; I distracted the tentacles with the stick before digging it out of the ground with the bark.  Feeling proud of myself again, I maneuvered the grabby thing onto the bark, and was halfway over to the basket when I caught my roommate’s eyes.  

His expression looked like I was inches away from a land mine.  I froze.  

“Drop it,” he said in a strained whisper.  I did, letting go of both stick and bark, and taking a huge step back.  

My optimistic and cheerful roommate leveled a blast of pure magic at it, more wide-eyed and frightened than I’d ever seen him.  I had to look away from the painful brightness.  When I turned back, he was still holding the pose with his hands out, just waiting for something to move.  

The mushroom, the basket, and a dozen square yards of forest floor were charred ruin.  Nothing moved.  

I looked back at him, heart pounding.  “Poisonous?”

“Very,” he said.  “How about you hold my basket, and I pick?”

I didn’t argue.  But I did file the incident away for use in future discussions of my tendency to “overreact.”  

[theartist-june]

fsdfsdfsdfSFS thats gae. You forgot to put no homo <3

-is now octopus mushroom-

:D

And you're my mushroom SHAKES U qq <3

[octoshroom]

it's okay to love gold and silver and shiny gems and petty pearls, and you can have as many as you can find. It's VERY well and good but it's important to find love for more mundane things too. Love soft-polished stones and old crook wood. Love the green rotted log and the place of shade under an old tree where the grass gets tall and sharp. Love the crunch of wet soil and the sudden dark cast by passing clouds. Love the sharp dusk air, and the hideous morning dew, and the places too far from familiar.

Those is treasures too littlebug.

[deliciouslydark]

Octoshroom

[heck-damn-so-i-draw]

If hanne is a tasty octoshroom cryptid can I be a strawberry-shortcake witch cryptid? Too late, idea formed I'm drawing it

[marlynnofmany]

These two did!  They, uh, found this: 

(Oh, the things you can stumble across on an unspecified magictech world. I should write more about them again.)

tag the oc that would go hunting for mushrooms in the woods

[ceescedasticity]

Wait, didn't you have an OC whose lusus was part mushroom? Does that mean that the species is an offshoot of whatever a traditional limeblood lusus was, or is it just a coincidence? ...Is the fungus creating the zombie actually a lusus? Like, does it make the undead into potential lusii (lususes?) for limebloods?

Totally unconnected! --I think most limeblood lusii were like any other lusii. Mycopathy was a notable ability, not an overwhelming trait.

Cephal's octoshroom lusus was just really weird, for any blood color!

(I have seen one fic where lusus-ness was caused by an infection in animals, but that's not my fic canon.)

[everythingstarstuff]

"Octoshroom" by Kane Kokaris

[naavispider]

Chapter 13 - If you playing me that mean my home aint home

In which Spider struggles to see Quaritch, and Quaritch takes action

Spider woke slowly the next morning. He knew he was well rested, but didn't immediately want to open his eyes. He was comfortable. He pulled the thing that was covering him up over his chin. It was warm, humid. The forest floor was soft, and his whole body was relaxed. He revelled in the moment of comfort, keeping his eyes closed as the sound of a distant ikran screeched, and thinking about the previous night. After he encountered that strange Tipani woman and been saved from her arrow by a woodsprite, he'd felt so calm that he'd humoured a whole conversation with Quaritch. Though he still despised the man, a warm feeling filled his chest when he recalled sharing the Na'vi beliefs with him. They'd laid together in what felt something like harmony. Who'd have thought?

He thought about how he'd react if someone told him he'd be having a heartfelt, meaningful conversation with Colonel Quaritch last week. He'd have probably shot the unfortunate person delivering the message. His thoughts turning to home, the all-too-familiar stabs of guilt sliced their way through Spider's insides. This was way too confusing. It was like he was being torn in two. The half of him that he had always known - the half that he'd given to the Sullys - wanted to take a bite out of an octoshroom. The other half, which Quaritch had forcefully pulled out and shown him - was curious to explore what the possibilities could be in this other, unfamiliar, world of having a biological dad.

He was a prisoner, it's true, but Quaritch had been kind. The recom always wanted to talk to him, and Spider knew that Quaritch himself probably believed he cared about him. He looked out for him. He looked after him. Spider had never been used to that. Was it wrong to admit that he was enjoying it?

But then, the memories of the cold, empty RDA cell came flooding back; the slap Quaritch had given him when he tried taking the tracker out his mask; the harsh plastic-y binding around his wrists. Wait - Spider moved his arm, testing. His hands weren't bound anymore.

They had been last night.

Something else was off too - it definitely didn't feel like his head was lying on the ground in the way that he'd fallen asleep. He finally opened his eyes, frowning as the early morning light filled his vision. Groggily, he sat up, running a hand through his hair. Crap. He'd been lying with his head on Quaritch's huge outstretched leg, covered in the man's jacket again. Quaritch was sat against a tree, reading or writing something on a tablet.

"Morning kid," he said as he watched Spider look around. "It's early still, you can go back to sleep." His eyes were filled with some sort of emotion that Spider wasn't quite sure how to identify. Almost concern.

A small, scrunched up jacket that had been lying underneath Spider caught his attention. He thought harder about what happened last night. He definitely fallen asleep by himself, when Quaritch gave him the human clothes. Oh.

Memories started to return hazily. Another nightmare - this one about Kiri taking the place of the Na'vi woman from yesterday and shooting him herself. He'd been so afraid - but it was difficult to remember. Strong arms had held him - he thought that must have been part of the dream but, perhaps it wasn't.

Hoping with every fibre in his body that his face wasn't betraying his astronomical embarrassment, Spider brushed Quaritch's jacket onto the floor and got up tiredly. None of the other recoms were awake - the Pandoran sun rose early. Shit. His stomach emitted a loud rumble, eliciting another one of Quaritch's chuckles. At first, Spider had hated it when something he did amused Quaritch, but he'd learned to brush it off by now, and it just didn't seem to get to him as much.

He strolled over to Quaritch's pack, which was resting with the others in the centre of the circle. He didn't particularly care if it annoyed Quaritch, he wanted breakfast. The bag was huge - Spider had no idea where Quaritch kept his protein bars. He unbuckled the outer straps and was just about to undo the elastic when a helpful interjection came from the tree behind him.

"Upper side pocket, left hand side."

Spider's eyes narrowed in annoyance - he wasn't incompetent. He gritted his teeth and undid the select pocket - and came across a veritable minefield of goodies. He paused, amazed.

The microwave-sized pocket was neatly brimming with bundles of not just protein bars - but all sorts of human ration packs. Spider started going through them slowly, reading each bundle. There were silver sachets of freeze dried roast dinner, spaghetti bolognese and sweet and sour chicken. Dehydrated packets of soup (leek and potato, vegetable, tomato), were sat on top of bags of nuts and granola bars. Holy shit. Was that even a packet of biscuits? Spider dug deeper, revelling in this apparent goldmine. He tried stoically to contain his excitement as a packet of what appeared to be candy emerged from the bottom. He read the back, trying to work out what it was. 'Irradiated, vac. seal. hard candies, exp. 2185'. He'd had candy maybe a handful of times in his life, usually on his birthday. Candy on Pandora was rarer than a bee on Earth. Apparently.

All this for Spider?

"Hard candy?" He turned around to see Quaritch smirking at him over the top of his tablet. "This stuff is gold, where the hell d'you get this?"

"Oh kid, I can get whatever," Quaritch replied seriously.

Spider couldn't help the smirk he shot back, before carefully replacing the bag of candies right at the bottom for later.

He selected a sachet of dehydrated quorn sausages and mash, and tore open the top. Of course it was just powder.

"There's a burner in the lower side pocket," Quaritch called. "Pour some water in and slide the switch on."

Spider furrowed through the other pocket, which was filled with recombinant food, and frowned as he pulled out the burner - it was a device used for quickly heating water without the need for fire. This one looked similar to the ones he'd seen used before - although like his RDA mask, it seemed updated and rebranded from the ones the humans used at High Camp. He quickly found a pitcher plant and poured the water in, pressed 'on' and waited for the light to turn green before mixing it in to turn the breakfast into a warm sludge.

He picked up the spoon that was also enclosed in the human food section of Quaritch's pack, and dug in. It was heaven.

*****

Two hours later found the squad back on the path, trekking north through the forest to continue looking for signs of Na'vi. Since Spider wasn't leading anymore, he could afford to go at a more sedate pace, though Quaritch always insisted he stayed in front of him. Whether this was so he could make sure Spider wouldn't try and unpiece his mask again or for some other reason, it didn't bother Spider.

He spent the majority of that morning running through escape scenarios in his head. Most of them involved Jake and Neytiri attacking the squad guerrilla style, and various Omaticayan warriors beckoning him onto their direhorse. Of course in all of these scenarios the clan had a spare mask. Other fantasies involved the mysterious woman from last night turning up with Tipani warriors and slaughtering the recoms, whisking Spider away on an ikran to High Camp. Thinking about it, Spider realised he wasn't truly sure how he would feel if Quaritch was killed. He'd spent the past week fantasising about it, but now it felt different to imagine.

Quaritch. The man who'd abducted him. Literally stolen him away from his home and on a manhunt to kill Jake. Spider knew Quaritch would do it, and he'd probably have no qualms about taking out half the family as well if it came down to it. He was evil.

And yet, he'd held Spider during his nightmare last night. He'd asked Spider to teach him Na'vi. He bought along human candy. It was getting harder and harder to separate the Quaritch that Spider knew from the video logs to the one that was in front of him everyday.

He was in deep shit.

The sight of a patch of Yovo berries hanging just off the path bought Spider's attention back to the present. Even though not completely necessary, he grabbed one from the low hanging branch and prized it open as the recoms continued past. Dipping his fingers into the liquid, he roughly went over the blue on his thighs, which had faded slightly overnight.

"Hey!" Quaritch called, unimpressed. "Your stripes look great tiger, keep moving."

Before Spider could reply however, a spear shot past him and hit Masnk square in the leg, impaling the man's limb completely. Mansk screamed a groan as he clutched his leg, and Spider stared horrified at the wood still sticking out at 90 degrees from the man's appendage.

Chaos suddenly rained down upon them.

"Arms!" Quaritch shouted, ordering the recoms into action. In a heartbeat, they'd raised their guns into the canopy, looking for the sudden attacker and shouting instructions to each other.

The Na'vi war cry hailed down from all directions, and then they appeared - more than one - Spider couldn't count. A Na'vi warrior leapt down from a branch above Fike and immediately went for the recom's neck with his knife. Fike fought back, trying to throw the man off him, but Spider couldn't watch because Quaritch was firing his gun at a Na'vi warrior who was about to lunge at Wainfleet from behind, killing her instantly.

"Get down!" Quaritch shouted, reaching an arm out for Spider. They ducked, trying to find cover. Spider ran to the nearest tree and got behind, as bullets flew in all directions and another spear barely missed Savine.

Savine and Wainfleet were trying desperately to drag Mansk to cover, who was still groaning in agony, and Spider stuck his head around the tree to see where Fike was - if he had survived the fight - when a knife suddenly caught him from behind and a huge hand grabbed his arm. The hands pulled him around to face their owner. Spider was looking up into the eyes of an Omaticayan warrior he'd seen before around High Camp, but didn't know by name. He was a strong fighter, revered by many members of the clan.

"<Stop! It's me, Spider!>" he pleaded, begging with his eyes for the warrior to understand.

"<Spider?>" The man's eyes widened, but his forehead creased in confusion. "<You are with them?>" he hissed, shaking Spider for an answer. On the other side of the tree, the shouts of the recoms diminished as they attempted to make safe the area.

"<No! Please, they took me, the RDA took me! I'm captive!>"

Something clicked behind the warriors eyes. His face set in understanding. He nodded minutely.

"<Come behind me>" he muttered, raising his knife but this time in defence of Spider. Spider wanted to shout and scream for joy. This was it. This was actually happening.

The Na'vi warrior crouched forwards, about to lunge towards the recoms when for a split second Spider knew what was about to happen before it did. Bullets flew through the air once more as the sound of gunfire filled his ears. Spider watched almost in slow motion as the strong and noble warrior in front of him fell gracefully in death. Spider stared. The man lay dead on the ground.

The noise had stopped. Everything had stopped.

After a second that contained an eternity, a shout broke through Spider's awareness.

"Spider!"

He turned around, staring at the face of Colonel Quaritch as the recom lowered his gun.

[titleknown]

So, akin to my previous Freedoom enemy concept the Sangre-La, here’s the Octoshroom!

Basically it spits a horrible blood/lava-type liquid that not only does damage, but also turns whatever tile it lands in into something hazardous. And, in addition, it can basically teleport around anywhere that’s covered in its goop!

Basically, my attempt to translate Splatoon gameplay into a Doom-type enemy, with the red-and-white and mushroom-cap-y elements of the design because Nintendo and the rest because squid.

This species is free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY Vanilla 4.0 License so long as I, Thomas F. Johnson; am credited as their creators. Hope ya dig ‘em! Especially @doommonsters and @debug-fly!