#scampers through the tundras

[ridragon]

oh no the cycle of wanting to play Skyrim has began again

[nyaagolor]

Hi Again, it's HGA here. Really darn happy that you're having a blast with Ace Attorney; you really get the characters and who they are. That post about Manfred being an anti-bigot and Von Karma being such supporter of gay and trans rights to the point of calling out somebody being anti-LGBT in court is greater than gold. Also that one about LGBT AA villains is great as well.

I do have one writing request if possible; a drabble or ficlet about Nemona riding Spectrier. Something that should happen during this fanfiction is Nemona making her Spectrier rear up on its hind legs. Other than that, anything else is up to you.

Please do take your time with it and don't overstain yourself. Make sure that the fic doesn't take priority over anything else you're doing or plan on doing, I adore your Ace Attorney posts. Hopefully, you are doing well now and in the future, too. I can't wait to read what series you will get into from now and the posts you'll make about it.

: )

Sorry this took so long!! Here ya go :)

-

When Penny had invited Nemona to Galar, she had expected her to do something dumb. Galar was the land of battle maniacs and the world’s largest gym circuit, and Penny knew that the match culture coupled with Nemona’s tendency to bite off more than she could chew was going to lead to some kind of disaster. Some kind of crash-and-burn situation was bound to happen, but in all honesty Penny was expecting it to be some kind of trouble with Miraidon or a beleaguered gym leader or Nemona simply getting wrapped up in the region’s battle imbued politics somehow. Instead, Nemona took it upon herself to revive and befriend an ancient folk legend and the equine embodiment of death, which was now standing in their cabin kitchen eating Penny’s shrimp chips.

The ghostly apparition of pestilence and death was as steadfast as it was silent, and did not seem to regard Penny as someone worthy of acknowledgment as it snacked away. Nemona was beside it, tapping incessantly at her phone and she took battle strategy notes. She seemed altogether unconcerned at her legendary friend as she did with its legendary battle capabilities, and would occasionally reach out to stroke the beast’s neck when she thought of something particularly noteworthy. Penny just looked between them— at the capricious god and the girl who seemed to care little about this. Suddenly, Nemona tapped her phone to send it back to her pocket, bouncing up in delight. Spectrier watched her lazily until Nemona suddenly patted her knees.

“Walkies?” she announced as though she weren’t talking to the literal lord of the tundra. Spectrier paused mid-chew, ears perking up. Was this some kind of a joke?

Nemona just patted her knees again and scampered outside, Spectrier following closely behind. Trying to get over her initial shock, Penny eventually scrambled to the front porch, watching in terrified awe as Nemona thoughtlessly scaled the horse’s back and pat the side of its head.

“Vamanos!” she cheered, and before Penny could warn her the ghost-type had taken off in a gallop. Nemona cheered as the horse frolicked in the freshly fallen snow, send clouds of powder as it turned in tight circles and raced happily along the plains. Penny stood, shocked, in the doorframe, only able to watch as Nemona effortlessly guided the legendary steed. They raced up a hill, together as one, when Spectrier suddenly reared as they reached the top. Nemona laughed, unfazed, as the setting sun cast their silhouette in gold. Spectrier wheeled its front legs, Nemona cheering her praises, and the two were off down the other side of the hill, ghostly whinnies and laughter echoing through the tundra. Penny just stared for a moment, awestruck, until the cold set in again. Closing the door, she shook her head at the thought of it, no longer surprised by the antics of her friend and placing an online order for snack delivery. She kind of wanted shrimp chips now.

[kovacs-of-courage]

A Time eclipse AU drabble

-----December 5th, 12,000 B.C.E-----

-----------Late Ice Age-------------

Time rasped, putting his weight against the trunk of a birch tree; it’s ash bark as white as the snow piled to his knees.

He put two leather-clad fingers to his bruised temple, a thunderous ringing slamming between his ears. It was an earthquake within his mind, the reminder of all he’d failed, and all that he now had to overcome.

Hyrule, his home, was gone--and by all rights so should he.

But he’s alive, by the goddesses he was alive.

Time fought back the cascading emotions of his hours-new remembrance, gritting his teeth as the scars of his first body etched themselves anew on his earthy form. He’d been struggling with the symptoms of his revived consciousness for as long as he’d regained it; barely making the miles walk back to his tribe’s encampments.

How would they view him now? Their leader returning from a foraging trip half-blind and scarred, a shadow of his former strength?

If he’d taught them anything--hopefully nothing at all.

Time winced; abject darkness overtaking his whitening eye, the emblazoned touch of the deity scaring onto his soul once again. He tried to avoid the thought of if he too made the breach; ignorance was bliss.

He grunted, straightening his shoulders despite the pain. He was more then his scars, more then his memories, his tribe nee-

“Watch out!”

Time swiveled to his rearward, reacting on instinct, too preoccupied to digest who was speaking to him. It was a futile effort though, as seven hundred fifty pounds of arctic feline crashed into him like a freight train from hell. They tumbled through the alaskan detritus, a snarling roar rumbling the frozen tundra.

He was on his back now, his hands in an iron grip around both of the saber tooth’s arms, a mask of stoic determination overtaking his adrenalined shock. The tiger struggled and squirmed in his grasp, unused to it’s mauling victims surviving the first gouging, or gouging attempt in this case.

Time’s move, however bold, was temporary at best. It was a miracle he wasn’t stricken immobile by the sheer force of the charging tackle. He wasn’t surprised, it’s not like he hadn’t survived worst.

“Hey, listen! It’s fangs are more brittle then they look, try attacking them with your gauntlets.”

*Navi?*

The gauntlets were a point of confusion too, given that he was stripped of his gear; answered justly when sheets of hammered metal and gold began manifesting around his forearms; emerging like crying tears from rippling air. They wrapped him in ribbons of molten light, their fiery embers coming right off the forges of their creation.

Okay then.

Uncapped strength surged within the forsaken hero, the thrashing predator atop him feeling lighter then a paperweight. He grabbed the Saber’s right fang, the ruby at the center of his gauntlets aglow--

He flicked his wrist right, snapping off eight inches of prehistoric bone from it’s source with unprecedented ease. 

Howling in pain, the saber thrashed it’s unhooked claw at Time--It tried to at least. A rising uppercut hit from below, fracturing it’s bottom jaw in a spiderwebbing cracks. 

The saber, now whimpering, scampered off Time; fleeing into the wilderness.

Time sighed, putting a hand to his chest.

“Stow the yawn, hero. You’re still on the clock.”

A flicker of blue light swam into his vision, impatiently hovering in place; their presence unabashed. A few thoughts struck Time’s mind, all in rapid succession--

Was this real? Was he having a stroke? Had he died again?

Normal things to consider, given he hadn’t seen his friend in over two and a half decades.

“I-..I-” Time stuttered, unable to find the words.

“Save it. We’ll talk whys and hows later, I’m just as confused as you are--but I do know that your tribe is in a heap of trouble, and they need your help.”

Time shook his head, trying to shake his bafflement.

“Our help, you mean. We’re a team, remember?”

Navi paused, a dozen regrets chasing her hurried mind.

“Of course..my mistake. We fight together, Link, ere the end,” Navi said, wistful melancholy infecting her tone.

Time nodded. “Then lead the way, the stage is yours,” Time said.

“Good. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

[blossom-adventures]

Happy Birthday @bostoniangirl21!

As it is your birthday today I thought I’d send you a little story as a gift. (I saw you mention when it was on this post I hope you don’t mind ☺️)

Happy birthday my friend, I hope you have a wonderful day ☺️💙🎂

I hope I’ve done ok with your characters, I’m still quite inexperienced when it comes to writing other peoples OCs

Sweetroll!

Anneberry was searching her room when Vilkas came in

“What are you looking for?” He asked as Anneberry looked under her bed

“Have you seen Sweetroll?” She looked up at Vilkas, who shrugged

“Not for a few hours, I caught her in my clothes draws again, so she ran off”

“Did you scare her off?”

“No, she saw me come in, she ran”

“Well where is she then?” Anneberry sat up on her heels and her hands on her hips

The clouds about Whiterun Hold were full of snow, and it didn’t look to be moving on anytime soon either, large snow flakes fell onto Sweetroll’s thick fur coat as she scampered through the tundra of Whiterun. The small red fox looked up at the snow falling, but sneezed as one particularly big flake landed on the tip of her nose, it tickled her so she had to rub her nose with her front paws.

She had been out in the tundra for for a couple of hours, ever since Vilkas caught her in his room again. She knew she should start heading home soon, Anneberry would start to worry. She began making her way back to the city, weaving around tall patches of grass and hopping over the little streams and ponds on the approach to the city gates. The Kahjiit Caravan was arriving at the same time so she kept low and out of their way. She slipped through the city gates as a guard patrol left.

Whiterun was quiet by the time Sweetroll returned, the shops on the market had closed early because of the snow storm, there was a thin layer of snow starting to settle of the streets, causing the small fox to leave paw prints in her wake, she stopped when she saw familiar prints in the snow; one, clearly belonging to an armoured man, and the other was a woman, in high heeled boots.

“Oh! Sweetie!” Sweetroll looked up the steps that led to the Gildergreen to see Anneberry rushing towards her “there you are” Sweetroll jumped into her arms “oh… I was worried about you” Anneberry hugged Sweetroll tight, and stroked her soft, albeit, slightly damp and cold fur “I thought Vilkas had scared you off” Vilkas sighed behind them

“For the last time, I did not scare her off”

[damaskrose345]

"We Will Be Warm"

If you find this letter, I am dead, and our God and Devil turned out to be one and the same.  

I lost count of the prayers and pleas we had amassed for the Lord. So much wasted breath employed in begging a deaf deity for deliverance, so much finite vitality spent beseeching God to pass us away from that darkness and into the light— that of the grave or rescue, it mattered not to our frost-addled souls. We only wanted warmth, and if that warmth could only be found under pilings of soil, then let it be. All of our energy, that precious ambrosia that, once lost, can never be recovered, was blasted away in barren begging. We knew no heroes would break through the ice like Christ resurrected. As we starved and shivered, huddled tight in flocks of wind-worn leather, blistered flesh, and vacant voids of hopeless eyes, we knew this place was far beyond God’s reach.

Sun dogs refracted above our frames, washing us in sunlight devoid of true heat. It bore down like the eye of a cruel beholder, some verily depraved spectre who saw us rotting upon the floes of ice and took amusement in the scene, showering us with false warmness so that we could delude ourselves into feeling its kiss upon our skin, only to glance down through frosted lashes at where such a kiss was placed, and see a patchwork of stony flesh numb to all sense. Skin so mangled by the cold that it mocks you, unfeeling as iron and the color of pitch, of the coals that haunted our frigid dreams. We dreamt so viciously of heat that it became a part of our bodies, even as our souls glaciated. 

A small boy, having not even graced his thirteenth year, lay beside me one night on the tundra. The others were scattered about the site. Some were dead, some, one could not tell. But all was silent, save for the savage howl and snarl of wind and the laborious breathing of our cadaverous camp. The boy was pressed to my side. I could feel him shiver. I could feel every shaking breath he took. I could practically feel the life seeping out of him as the endless night marched on, forging ever onward across the wasteland, the moon the only lantern to be found. 

The silence broke. The boy’s voice creaked past his rocklike lips. 

“Is heaven this cold?” he whispered. The wind nearly stole his words from me, but I heard him well. 

I hardly possessed the spirit to answer. “No,” was all I could reply. 

Another lapse of iron silence. I awaited the boy’s next question. I knew he had one. All children are curious; even the frozen reaper could not change that. 

After an age, he spoke once again. “Will God warm us when we die?” he asked. 

My eyes were fixed on the sweep of stars above. They glimmered freely, for no cloud was there to bury them. One vastness above, one below. I knew no warmth existed in the open wild of space, yet I did not believe any wildness could be more desolate than the tundra. 

My tongue blotted at my lips vainly, trying to wet them so that my words did not share our fate. “Yes,” I told the boy softly, weakly. “The stars. They are warm. God puts us among them like….” Exhaustion leadened my mind, but I battled. “A hearth. We will be warm.” 

 Frost clung to my lashes. I would have wept, but my tears had been hardened to stones within my face. I watched the stars dance and scamper like children across the inky sky. Then, an interloping figure broke into my vision. It rose slowly, ever so slowly, and swayed in the same manner as a tree in a storm. The small branches of the tree emerged, curled and trembling. The trunk was wrapped in old leather and wool frayed by exposure, and with a sick wrenching of my gut, I realized whose arm I gazed at. 

The boy reached up to the stars. Against the backdrop of the heavens, I was reminded of just how delicate his frame was. How young. How moribund.

His fingers did not grasp at the sight in the way an infant might do so for its mother. He could not, for such a meager action would cause his fingers to snap clean off. No, he could not. He kept his arm raised high with his little hand edged in black. 

I know not when, but I eventually drifted into sleep. 

In the morning, when I awoke like a corpse recalled to life, the first thing my eyes beheld was the arm of the boy, remaining in its stretch towards the sky. His hand was virginal white and pallid blue, his fingertips the color of onyx. I looked at the boy’s face and saw only a youthful face leached of all life and hue. His eyes were closed, tucked into slumber behind his frosted lashes. He was dead. 

Myself and a handful of the surviving men spent the following day burying the child. Had we possessed our usual strength, the affair would have been done in less than an hour, but death loomed over us all, and thus one child’s burial cost us one full day. The grave was shallow, and as we laid the boy into the hardened earth, an obstacle appeared before us. 

The boy’s arm. 

It remained upright as it had been when he died and was all but cemented that way by the elements. The grave, I recall, was not deep enough to cover the child without all of him lying completely flat. The arm had to be lowered to entirely bury him. We had to either snap the arm to settle it or bury what we could and embark further on toward the mainland. 

I reached towards the corpse, clasping my own frostbitten fingers around the arm. It was so thin, I remember, so fragile like the wing of a songbird. I imagined the splintering crack breaking it would create, a sound that would echo in my mind for all my days remaining. I could not do it. I released the boy from my grasp, affirmed my fellow undertakers, and covered the small boy with snow and gravel. 

God forgive me. God forgive my cowardice and my cruelty. We left the boy as he died, arm eternally reaching up towards the high heavens and the God who was not here. There was no marker upon his grave, only a frail arm sprouting from the snow like a lily. 

The arm watched us as we turned and staggered across the wasteland, and each time I turned back to cast another look, it kept shrinking until, at last, when I turned, it had vanished entirely into the white nothingness of the tundra. 

My heart is heavy as I write this. My mind is forever preyed upon by the image of the child’s dead hand and the horrific sound of the mercy I could have shown had I simply snapped it. But mercy does not exist in this place. As I write this, I know my time on this earth is swiftly coming to an end, and I hope only that my final words to that boy ring true. 

I pray God will put us among the stars when we finally pass. 

I pray God will warm us. 

I pray we will be warm.  

[hoarder-posting]

[Well… whether it was or wasn’t, food is food. A few chucked rocks later, and they’re feeling rather proud of themself actually; not to mention full! Been a while since that’s been the case. Usually they only manage to find enough to get by, in the tundra…]

[Besides that though, they keep running back to the iterator’s room, and soon enough pop their head through its entrance. And seeing that 10MI is awake again gets them to let out a joyous “WAWAA!!” as they drop down to scamper back to their friend.]

[A few cycles after the little creature’s meeting with the iterator… that iterator begins to get small notifications that something new is crawling around in their structure, approaching their room. And soon enough…]

Waaaaa…?

[… the little slugcat’s head pops into the chamber via the entry duct! Curiously looking around, wondering where that strange thing it met is… this IS where the map led it after all.]

(@hoarder-posting)

[the iterator moved over to where the entry duct was. they were bouncing around the slugcat, observing it from all angles.it danced around, making strange noises all the way] )!(*&@^%p!! 03)@**__=+=]!!!!!!

[sergeantnex]

Philza x Elytrian!Reader: Attraction (Fluff)

.:.:.Third POV.:.:.

The sun had just risen in the frozen land of the tundra where Technoblade and Philza lived. Both men were preparing to find villages for trading, it would be a long trip. Philza was on his side of the cabin brewing some extra potions just in case they ran in to trouble. As they brewed Phil watched his crows fly up in to the air. He missed flying, the air flowing through his hair and the wind brushing his feathers. There was an indescribable freedom to it, a freedom he missed. His left wing was badly damaged when he sheltered Wilbur from that explosion. Phil didn't care that he lost his ability to fly, what mattered was he protected his eldest from himself. Sighing he turned his attention back to his finished potions. Lightly sealing them before storing them in his bag making sure to pack extra for Technoblade. Shifting his weight Philza looked back around the room making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Nodding more to himself than anything, he moved to exit his house. "Are you ready?" Techno asked as he too exited his house with his bag slung over his shoulder. Phil gave him a nod as he began to walk down their stairs. Techno had chosen a direction and began to lead the way through the snowy tundra. Each step sounded with the slight crunch of snow that had freshly fallen last night. The wild animals all scampered from their path not looking to get killed. They moved from village to village it seemed slowly working their way out of the tundra towards the open fields. They were able to make a few trades that were  worth the emeralds that were asked. The villages that were worth remembering got marked down on the map Philza carried. They stopped to camp out in a village for the night seeing as there would be mobs but also to rest some from their long travel. Phil groaned as he rolled his shoulders and stretched out a bit. Easing himself to the ground he pulled out water bottles and food for himself and Techno. As they began to eat the steak and bread a conversation could be heard from the floor above them. "She used to have wings?!" A males voice carried clearly drawing the attention of Philza and Techno. "It's what I heard but supposedly she was blamed for someone's death. So in turn for a life the ripped her wings from her back. That's why she works with medicine now and heals people." A lighter toned man's voice came. Techno looked to Phil expecting to see that man looking back but instead he saw pain. "Where is she located again?" The first voice came again, his tone much quieter than before but still could be heard. "The village to the north from what I know." Technoblade knew where he would lead Phil tomorrow. He would take Philza to meet this woman, he silently hoped she would be at that village. It wasn't long before the conversation changed to something less interesting. Phil and Techno both moved to lay down and get some sleep as it was already late. Philza couldn't stop his mind from wondering about the woman. He was in intense pain when his wings got hurt, he couldn't imagine what it was like to have them ripped off. With time he managed to finally fall asleep but no matter which way he laid, Phil spent most of the night tossing and turning. It took everything in Philza to not curse out the sun and its bright morning light. He hadn't exactly slept and now with the sun rising he and Techno would have to be on the move again. "Didn't sleep well?" Techno asked watching as his father moved to sit up. Groaning Phil buried his face in his hands, taking a moment to sit there. Sighing Phil shook his head and began to repack the items he had pulled out last night. Techno lead the way heading for the northern village they heard about last night. Phil was exhausted so he didn't think twice about where they were headed. Philza complained mentally about how long they had been walking before every thought came to a halt. The echoing sound of kids laughing making Phil realize they had come to another village. Though this one was far different than any of the others. The homes were built up with

smooth stone and different color wood for each home. Some of the homes had flower gardens, a few had crops, and the others had animals. Smooth grass formed a path and lead to each home  around the village. Not to mention the people whom lived at this beautiful haven. The 'villagers' were all hybrids of something, very few were the same. Phil was quick to mark the map before venturing around in shock. Technoblade wasn't fond of the kids running about but  it was clear that everyone felt safe here. A small cow hybrid boy slammed into Philza's legs, and before the boys could apologize for it, there were thudding footsteps. Older kids rounded the corner after the boy, Phil shifted so he was standing in front of the cow hybrid. His wings fluffed and arched in protection, the older kids all turned and bolted from the sight of the Angel of Death and the Blood God. Philza turned back towards the boy and crouched to his height. "Are you okay?" He asked lightly looking for injuries. The boy meekly nodded before standing with a bit of a wobble. Techno looked past his father to see a (h/l (h/c) haired woman rushing towards them. Her bright (e/c) eyes shining with worry as she slid past Philza and took a hold of the boys cheeks. "Oh (b/n) are you okay?!" She said worriedly. Both Techno and Phil found themselves staring at her back. The woman shirt was completely open back, showing off the 'v' like scar starting from her shoulders to her lower back. It was true, what those men were talking about. Turning she looked to them only to freeze when she looked at Phil's wings. "Your like me.." She whispered lightly reaching forward letting her finger brush his wing. She was quick to notice the damage to his left wing, it broke her heart to see such beautiful silk charcoal black wings hurt. "I-I can fix your wing, if you'll let me?" She said looking to his face. Smiling Philza agreed and followed her to her home. Where she gave him a misty blue potion the smelled sweetly, and tasted like candy. Smiling she told him it would take a few days but his wing would return to it's previous state. Smiling she invited them for dinner and shared her name with them. (Y/n) was glad to have friends like them, though seeing Philza's wings made her miss her own. She tried to heal herself but nothing she had tried worked, so instead she focused on helping others. Over the next year she became a close ally of theirs, though Phil trusted her the most since he let her groom his wings. Once he was able to fly once more, he took her for a small fly around the village. The smile she wore made his heart flutter, he would do this a thousand times just to see her smile like that. Techno noticed much sooner than Philza had but (Y/n) began courting him leaving him shiny gifts and potions alike. Techno accepted that a woman his age was in love with his father, and oddly enough it didn't bother him. He was happy there was a chance his father could have such a wonderful young woman in his life, not to mention the Blood God himself trusted her. It had taken Philza a while to notice the gifts and potions, and it took my less time to notice who was leaving them. At first he didn't recognize them as courting gifts but it wasn't until he saw her leaving them that he understood. Phil wasn't sure how to approach the situation or what to even say to the young woman. But he was certain of one thing. He returned her affection and her courting without even realizing it. His instincts had him moving before he could stop himself. In a short period of time he found himself imaging her lewdly when it came to pleasing himself. Thoughts of her mouth, how she would look under him, or how she would feel against him. The thoughts made him far more excited than he would admit but it had brought him much pleasure. Even though her courting didn't go unnoticed by Philza, he was worried about their age difference more than anything. She was undeniable beautiful, he knew  deep down her wings would've been absolutely stunning. Even with the 'v' like scarring down her back

from where her wings were ripped out. Phil couldn't deny that over the months of knowing he, he had fallen for her. Her (h/l) (h/c) hair framed her face so greatly and even brought out her (e/c) eyes. The way they shined with excitement when she saw him, everything about her was beginning to drive him crazy.

.:.:.Philza's POV.:.:.

Groaning I sat up in the bed (Y/n) had gratefully given me for when I visited her. My wings felt tense, like I hadn't opened them in months when in reality I had just taken care of them last week. Sighing I looked at the lightening sky, shifting so I could stretch my wing out. "Damn it." I softly cursed seeing my feathers in disarray. I curled my left wing towards me so I could begin the long process of grooming my wings once again. A soft knock made me jump a bit before calling out. "Come in mate." I called out turning my attention back to my wing. (Y/n) opened the door with a smile though she stopped short seeing my grooming my wings. "I hope this isn't to bold of me, but I could help if you'd like." Her soft voice made me feel at ease. Nodding I shifted so she could move behind me to reach where I couldn't. The excited smile that bloomed on her lips made me chuckle, I knew she had to of missed her own wings. I could see it in her eyes. She missed the open sky, she missed the wind, she missed the freedom even more though. It was one of many reasons I often took her for a few trips into the sky, sometimes during the day or even at night. It made me happy to see her (e/c) eyes sparkling and her bright smile. When (Y/n) 's soft fingers wove perfectly through the feathers, smoothing and straightening them, I felt myself melt. I stopped my work to appreciate how gently she was as she worked, not even realizing I hadn't moved to finish what I was doing. Her voice was light when she began to sing, it was lighten to not disturb the peace and still able to be heard. I let my body relax while she continued to fix my feathers. The few that had come loose or fallen out while she was grooming them, she kept in a neat stack. I lightly began to wonder what she would do with them, until I began to wonder what her own feather had looked like. "(Y/n) what did your feather look like?" I questioned softly hoping it wasn't a sensitive question. She paused for a second before resuming her work. "They were beautiful. They were (w/c) that shimmered in the sunlight. I always tried to keep them groomed and clean. I even had an oil I would make to bathe them in when I was bathing." She whispered letting her fingers just run through my feathers lightly. Once she had finished, she gathered the feathers that had fallen out. "Could I keep them?" She asked lightly, her face turning a light shade of red. "Wh-" I began but she cut me off quickly. "I-I want to use them in dream catchers o-or something. I know keeps your feathers i-is a very intimate act." (Y/n) kept her gaze lower. Not once looking up to meet my eyes and from the way she was fidgeting, I'd say she was embarrassed. "Dove I don't mind. Keep them, wear them, decorate your home with them. As long as your happy." I cooed lightly lifting my hand to brush some of her (h/l) (h/c) hair behind her ear. She lightly lifted her eyes to meet my own, a shy smile on her lips. Smiling back I leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her head hoping to calm her nerves. It wasn't until later that afternoon I had stepped in to her art room. Paintings, drawings, and crafts all graced the room beautifully. And yet there she sat in the middle of the floor with my feathers and a pale blue woven dream catcher. A few of my feathers had been highlighted with deep blues and deep purples. "Mate, have you been in here all day?" I asked moving forward to kneel near her form. She didn't verbally respond instead she nodded and continued to attach my feathers to the hanging strings. Leaning forward, I gently lifted her head so she was looking at me. "Come on dove, you need a break. Come eat with me okay?" I waiting only a second before she gently sat the dream catcher down. I gently took her hands and pulled her up letting her stretch.

.:.:.Reader's POV.:.:.

I hadn't realized that I was seated on the floor for so long until Phil came and got me. I felt a few of my joints pop when I stretched my limbs. My mind quickly became fuzzy from standing up so fast then stretching out. I leaned forward so I was leaning on his chest hoping he wouldn't mind. I was counting him yes, but I didn't want to over step any boundaries. I was quickly reassured when he looped his arms around my middle. Gently but securely holding my body up, his hand gently rubbing my back. After a few minutes I pulled back and offered a soft smile as thanks. He walked by my side as we made our way to he kitchen to prepare food. A few jokes were made when one of us slipped up on the food. It was peaceful having him around, I felt more at ease and safe. Once the chicken and dumplings was finished we poured it in to bowls and moved to sit outside. "So mate I've been meaning to ask you something." Phil started calmly taking a bit of the dumplings. I felt anxiety flood my system with worry of what he was going to ask. "I know you've been courting me, I even returned the gesture. Though I'm curious as to what you were hoping for when you began, after all I am much older than you." Philza now placed his bowl on the wooden railing. He looked to me watching my reaction closely. I fidgeted under his gaze, unsure if I should tell him the truth or if I should lie. "I-if I'm being honest, I was drawn to you. I-I was hoping for romantic but I understand if you don't want that with me being so young." I quickly muttered keeping my eyes low, not wanting to see the rejection head on. It was silent for a moment almost like I was supposed to start laughing and claim it was a joke. I flinched at the sudden warmth of the wing that now curled around me. I meekly peaked up at him, only to see a soft smile on his lips. He lightly ran his hand through my hair before tilting my head up to meet him. Phil leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against my own. "I'm happy honestly (Y/n). I was worried I'd look like a fool for falling for you." He teased lightly before pressing a kiss to my head. I smiled sweetly at him leaning into his side as we continued to eat and watch the kids of the village all return home. I smiled when he pulled his wing back and gently held my hand instead. Guiding me back inside, we cleaned our bowls before I pulled him to my craft room again. I tried to urge him to make something while I finished the dream catcher, but he just shook his head. "Who were you going to give it to?" Phil asked lightly draping his wing over my shoulders. "Oh, I was going to hang it in my room actually. That way even when your gone, I have something of you to chase away any nightmares that may come." I said happily with a little chirp, the smile on my face showing my joy. "You assume I'm leaving you here dove." Phil said gently kissing my head with a chuckle. I leaned into him as I finished the dream catcher, enjoying the warmth he gave off. "I'd gladly stay with you, thank you for giving me a chance." I whispered letting him hold me close. Peace over took my body as I rested with him in the art room before moving to get ready for bed. I offered we share my bed now that we were openly together. The bed felt so much better with him by my side and his wings lightly holding me close. I silently wished I had my wings back so we could fly together, groom them together, and even curl up together.

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

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[bi-dykes]

The ShineStone Tundra

Summary: Queen Glimmer and Commander Catra are both trying to retrieve the ShineStone, a runestone hasn’t been used in centuries. However, the two enemies must wait out the blizzard before returning victoriously.

Content: Glitra, short fic, canon-divergence (still fits with the given timeline tho) Enemies-to-Lovers- kinda? Just enemies to less enemies.

Word count: 2.8k

Series: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

———————————————————————

Glimmer of Bright Moon gave a shriek of frustration as her latest teleportation sent her right back to the cold valleys of the ShineStone Tundra. She had been trying to find the Amethyst Cave for heaven knows how long, and all she has managed to accomplish is running circles in the repetitive, cold, grey landscape.

She was about to retreat to find a new plan- perhaps find some expert navigators or- gasp- tell Bow that she needed his help after all!!? But she couldn’t admit that, not after she had confidently told him that she was ready to take on this mission solo.

Her pink and purple hair tousling in her face due to the high winds, Glimmer turned towards a familiar voice carrying through the blizzard.

“Sparkles. I should’ve known you’d be foolish enough to show your face on the coldest regions of Etheria,” a little feline-cackle boomed from the distance.

“Horde Scum! Show your face, I’m not afraid of you! Here, kitty, kitty- ARGHHH!” Glimmer shouted quickly as she released a glitter bomb in the direction of the cat’s call.

Unfortunately, the wind blew it right back into Glimmer’s face, causing her to groan sadly at the pink ambush.

A loud laugh was heard in return. “Seriously? You can’t even control your powers in the wind? Pathetic!”

“You’re the pathetic one!” Glimmer called out, teleporting in the direction of Catra’s taunts.

The girls gave out a loud “oof” as Glimmer fell on top of the Horde Leader, the two of them collapsing in the snow.

“Get off me, you pint-sized explosive!” Catra crowed.

“Why did you follow me into the Tundra?” Glimmer asked furiously.

“Follow you?” Catra snorted. “As if I keep tabs on you. I didn’t follow you here! I came to scope out the location for a new weapon for Hordak, one that’ll change the tides of the war, Princess.” She wriggled from underneath Glimmer’s tight shoulder grip.

“That’s Queen to you, not Princess, and what weapon is this exactly?”

“What, you want me to spoon feed you information now? Dream on.” With a sharp tug, Catra pulled away from Glimmer, slid through the snow, and then jumped up and ran towards the defeating blizzard.

“Get back here!” Glimmer crowed.

She had just begun to chase the tabby cat when the two of them froze in place, listening to the powerful roar from beyond the mountains.

“The abominable snowman,” Catra shivered.

Glimmer laughed mockingly. “You actually believe in the abominable snowman? I’m sure it was just an avalanche in the distance.”

“Either way,” Catra said. “It’s a good reason to take cover.”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when the top of a mountainscape began to... move? Dislodge? Get up and walk away? Glimmer stared at the top of the mountain in awe, the steep slope of it now having vanished, leaving the mountaintop flattened.

“What in the...?”

Glimmer and Catra both turned to the now missing ledge, seeing that this slope wasn’t part of the mountain at all, but was a larger than life grey claw. The claw moved once again and stepped closer, causing snow to rumble down the mountain. If that was just one fraction of the creature’s hand... then the whole being must be ginormous.

“Yes, I actually believe in the abominable snowman!” Catra spat. “And I’m starting to believe that we’ll be it’s lunch.”

She gave the pink queen a nasty look and darted off into the distance, where a small ice burrow lay.

Shivering, Glimmer activated her glitter teleportation powers, and zoomed into the ice burrow right behind Catra.

As soon as Catra noticed her presence, she whizzed around quickly, her hair flipping in a very alluring manner. “Get out, Sparkles!” She growled. “This is my hiding spot.”

Glimmer crossed her arms. “If you let me stay in here til that giant passes, I’ll teleport you out to the mainland of the Tundra. We’ll both live that way.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Because,” Glimmer smirked. “I know cat’s hate small spaces. You would not want me to leave you in here, and I do not want you to keep me outside with that mountain monster.”

Catra sighed dramatically. “Fine. But as soon as the abominable snowman passes, we part ways.”

“Deal.” And with that, the two walked into the glistening ice tunnel.

***

Their footsteps made a “clop clop” noise with every step, and Catra regularly lost her balance and skidded on the icy floor, giving Glimmer a death glare any time the queen of Bright Moon giggled at the angry feline.

“So, this weapon you speak of. Hordak wants to use the ShineStone? I didn’t think the Horde was into Etherian relics. Mostly just ugly Fright Zone tech.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?” Catra hissed.

“I’m in the middle of a deadly blizzard and an evil snowman attack. What makes you think I’m bored?”

“Why else would you be taking to me?”

Glimmer shrugged in begrudging agreement, and they began to walk in silence.

After the mouth of the burrow began to fade away from view, the two found themselves in a large opening; an ice bubble that was crystallized in the snow. It has enough room for them; enough room to stay and set up camp. The walls surrounding Glimmer and Catra were streaked with weathered lines, and the roar of the snowstorm could be heard muffled from above.

“It’s beautiful,” Glimmer exhaled.

“Just like you to find a subzero hideaway beautiful,” Catra snapped.

“More beautiful than a mountain monster,” Glimmer shot back. “Or the inside of a mountain monster.”

Catra bristled.

Glimmer undid her emergency pack and laid out a blanket, then got out a cluster of contained firewood and a match. She quickly laid it down and set a flame in the centre of the ice bubble, warming her hands over it.

Scampering away, Catra put her back to the frost wall and rubbed her arms, trying to get some warmth.

“Do you want to share the fire?” Glimmer asked.

“I don’t need your-”

“Good! Because you’re not getting near my warm little flame.”

“Grrrrr.”

“Well ‘gurh’ to you too.”

Silence again. The wind howled in the distance, making the only noise between the two girls.

“What does Bright Moon think they can do with the ShineStone?” Catra gloated. “You have no princess from the Tundra to wield it. Your rebellion is all sparkly, no substance.” She was relieved to cut the silence.

“Now you’re the bored one,” Glimmer teased. “Starting conversation again-”

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

Glimmer sighed, changing the topic from their little banter. “The ShineStone can easily turn the tides of the war.” She was dying to tell someone about it, but she knew it couldn’t end up in the enemies hands.

“We’ve all- Bright Moon and the Fright Zone alike- built up the expectations to be this glorifying force. What if... what if it’s not everything we’ve imagined?” Glimmer continued reluctantly.

Catra walked closer to her. “Do you think... that it might not work? I mean, it’s an ancient relic. Hasn’t been used for centuries. Who’s to say it’ll have any magic left?”

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

“Whatever. I’m going to take a nap. Don’t kill me in my sleep,” Catra muttered as she curled up on the icy floor, her tail wrapping around her torso.

“I make no promises,” Glimmer joked. She put her hands above the small fire again as Catra drifted off.

***

A loud, scraping noise was heard as the mountain monster made its way across the land. Catra awoke with a hiss, and Glimmer looked up at the rocking ice ceiling, her glittery eyes wide.

Then Catra gave a toothy grin. “It’s passing, Sparkles. We can finally leave.”

Glimmer looked over at the Horde Cadet, enticement growing. “We can, can’t we?”

They heard the booming footsteps echo, bits of frost clattering down on them as the abominable snowman walked away... away... away until they couldn’t hear the stomps anymore.

Catra quickly bounded up, her hands rubbing together with relish. “Teleport me out.”

“Excuse me?”

“That was the real, right? We wait out the storm monster together, then its us to the mainland. To both try to find the ShineStone.”

Glimmer grunted. “All right, all right.” She put a hand on Catra’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and they teleported out into the blistering, grey grounds of the main land.

“Thanks for the lift, Sparkles!” Catra cackled as she sped off. But she didn’t get very far past the mainland before she scampered into a little, grey cave of the mountainline.

Glimmer huffed and, trying to safe her teleportation powers for when she’d need them more, ran off; this time towards the heart of the tundra.

The sparkly sorceress raised an arm to shield her face from the bleak wind, which she certainly hadn’t missed when her and Catra had sought shelter. She turned towards the horizons line, and with Bow’s tracker pad (that she had promised to take good care of) she began to follow a signal to any Etherian Runes.

Up ahead, a light yellow glow emitted, causing a buzz from the tracker pad. Eagerly, Glimmer rushed to follow the tracks.

Making her way through the unforgiving snow drifts, Glimmer saw the top of a burrow. Frowning, she searched around for an exit, then decided to use a teleportation to appear right in front of the sign. That would be a well use of her magic!

Giving a barred smile for the first time since the storm started, Glimmer sparkled into the location and found herself face to face with...

You guessed it. Her favourite ill-tempered feline frenemy.

“You again?!!” Catra growled. “How did you find me here?”

They were both in the cave that Catra had scooted into after they left their ice burrow.  The cave was tall, with glistening icicles hanging from above, and stalagmites reaching upwards by the chilling cave floor.

The Amethyst Cave.

“I didn’t find you, Catra. I found that.”

Looking over to where Glimmer was pointing, her finger arched to the centre of the cave, there was a looming, golden crystal that was larger than both girls combined stood perched regally, emitting a warm light that seemed as of a different world than the coldness surrounding them.

“You found it too late, Glimmer,” Catra drawled. “I got here first.” She pulled out her communicator and spoke into it harshly.

“Scorpia! It’s about time you’ve answered. I’ve found the ShineStone- we’re going to need backup for a quick retrieval and delivery. And don’t keep me waiting this time.”

After packing her communicator away, Catra crossed her claws smugly.

What she didn’t realize, though, was that Glimmer had snuck to the other side of the huge ShineStone, hands braced to make one last powerful transportation.

“Hey!” Catra plucked an icicle and slapped Glimmer with it. “Hands off the treasure.”

Glimmer, however was unfazed by the strike. “Your little backup crew won’t arrive for hours, you can’t guard it forever, and you have no magic.” She beamed. “It’s over, Catra.”

Catra gritted her teeth. “Not. Yet.”

She lunged at Glimmer, who retorted with a sparkle blast that the angry catgirl quickly coughed out.

The two leaders began to fight in front of the glowing ShineStone, the wind whistling as they parried back and forth.

Catra had picked up another icicle and began to jab it at Glimmer, who was barely ducking in time to avoid each blow.

Leaping up to the ShineStone, Catra charged downwards at Glimmer, icicle still in hand. Glimmer slide out of the way just before Catra landed on the cold cave floor.

Except... Glimmer didn’t slide out of the way. She fell, and fell due to a loud movement from outside the cave.

Sprawled on the Amethyst cave floor, Glimmer glanced up to see a claw the size of a house moving past the entrance. Both her and Catra seized up at the sight.

“He’s back.” Catra whispered.

The ground rumbled beneath their feet as the abominable snowman strode past. With each ground-shattering step, the cave walls around them begin to shake.

Catra and Glimmer both dove behind the ShineStone for protection, huddled up to brace themselves from the mountain monster.

As the snowy scape around them shattered with every movement of abominable snowman, a huge chunk fell from the ceiling of the cave.

“Look out!” Catra pulled Glimmer out of the way.

Glimmer’s eyes widened in shock. “You... you saved-”

“Don’t flatter yourself; I need you alive to teleport me out of this chaos,” Catra said.

“Of course,” Glimmer stood up and, avoiding pieces of falling cave ceiling and snow, put a hand on Catra’s helm to physically join them for a teleportation. She scrunched up her forehead and summoned a vise of glitter.

Yet they were still standing in the cave.

“What??!” Glimmer tried again. And again. She and Catra had to dart around the room to miss the collapsing cave around them, while Glimmer urgently attempted to teleport.

“Did you run out of batteries or something?” Catra yapped. "Why isn't your magic working?"

“I don’t know!!!” Glimmer almost crumpled down in panic.

From outside the cave mouth, the abominable snowman’s footsteps continued, except this time it was apparent that a blue stream of light was emitting off of their form, extending off to Glimmer and draining her of her magic.

“He’s... he’s taking your power,” Catra froze with despair.

Glimmer raced over to the ShineStone and put her hands on it.

“Please!” she cried out. “Please, O Ancient Runestone, grant me your strength!”

Catra followed her lead and placed a claw on the shiny surface. “Please! Lend us your power!”

But the ShineStone was useless to them; sitting blankly and dull before them, not preforming any mystical acts.

Teeth gritted, Catra grabbed Glimmer’s arm and leaped from stalagmite to stalagmite, hoisting the two of them over the widening holes of the cave surface.

Now freed, they both collapsed on the snowy top of the cave, the abominable snowman slowly stepping his overwhelming form away.

There need no introduction. The two girls made like a banana and split.

Sprinting away from the freezing land, they leapt off the tall Amethyst Cave and back into the whiteout blizzard.

As they made distance from the mountain monster, Glimmer noticed the blue light dissolve; the very same blue light that was attached to her from the abominable snowman. Testing her abilities, she gave a quick sparkle blast in the air, which blew away in the wind.

“Yes! Ahaha!” Glimmer cheered. “My powers are back!”

“Timing’s off,” Catra mused. But before Glimmer had a chance to respond, Catra yelped and her foot/paw slipped down a ice crevice. She grunted and tried fruitless to pull herself out.

And the abominable snowman turned, and began to walk in their direction.

Catra hissed and tried frantically to free herself. As she struggled, Glimmer readied a last teleportation to send herself home.

But right before... she glanced over at the kitty cat. The one who had tried to kill her, the one who was Hordak’s second-in-command, the one who had betrayed Adora...

Glimmer tried; she earnestly tried to leave her foe behind to the icy fate. But something tugged her back, something she didn’t want to think about.

Grimacing, Glimmer put a hand on Catra’s ears, activated her magic, and teleported them both out of the Tundra, and to safety.

***

“Oof!”

Catra and Glimmer fell to the ground in The Whispering Woods. The air was finally warm with a light breeze, and Glimmer could see the Bright Moon castle over the distance.

“Finally!” Glimmer said breathlessly. She stood up and checked her satchel to make sure that Bow’s tracker pad was okay, tugging it gently with relief that she hadn’t broken it.

Catra looked up at the sky, bewilderment in her eyes.

“So I guess that ShineStone was a hoax after all. I’m going to have to tell the Rebellion it wasn’t a successful mission.” Glimmer chuckled. “And you’re going to have to tell Hordak you failed.”

Catra stood up, wrapping her arms around herself at some invisible chill. “You didn’t need to take me with you. You could’ve left me,” she said slowly.

Glimmer shrugged. She wasn’t about to justify herself to the Commander of the Fright Zone. “There’s a method to my madness.”

“Alright,” Catra nodded slowly. “Well... I should be leaving now. I’m going to find a new weapon; one that’s not a useless old rock,” she snickered.

“Good luck with that,” Glimmer said mockingly.

“Thanks.” Glimmer could tell Catra wasn’t just thanking her about the ‘good luck’ comment.

Catra turned to scamper away, when Glimmer raised her hand.

“Hey, wait,” the glittery queen said. “Before you go...”

Raising an eyebrow, Catra curiously turned to face her.

“If you tell anyone about how I helped you,” Glimmer promised. “I will kill you, Catra.”

“I’ll have eight lives left, Sparkles.”

________________________________________

So that’s it, friends! My first She-Ra fic on this site. I hope you enjoyed it! I have plenty more planned, but with work and uni we’ll see how much I can give you y’all.

Tag list:

@humans-suck @xcaroldanversx @singerintheshower @lolitscaitlin @secretsalute @weirdoughnut

Stay tuned for more Glitra content! Signing off,

- Mari

[zhaozaipalooza]

Your Weekly Drabble! - Day 1 | Festival

The missing drabble for LuZhao mini-week where I brought to you Holi? — here it is! ✨

The court painter fiddled with the array of tools at his side - paled slightly, lips forming a curse - then quickly bit it down, stammering about getting a few supplies before he excused himself. Red curtains framing the prince’s portrait-to-be settled behind him.

Lu Ten sprang from his seat. He paced to drum out his annoyance through the silks lining the floor. When that didn’t work, he ducked out of the same opening. 

A massive, tiled chamber cleared of the average riches piled in a palace room, sunlight streaming from the corridor outside, gave him more breath than his lungs knew what to do with. When the day glowed, he couldn’t resist the same - not as a child, not as a princeling aware of his place in a turning world, fire in his heart and fingers. Dance with me, sing with me, run with me, said the sun… and Lu Ten followed.

The rays guided his eyes over ornate fixtures, twisting pillars and rosy walls, to a guard stationed beside the open door. His helmet was clutched in a free hand to keep it from slipping over his eyes. He caught Lu Ten smiling, and mustered a look of confidence. 

Peace that uncommonly smoothed Zhao’s face - in his presence, no one else’s - was knocked off when Lu Ten jabbed a fist into his side. “Yip!” His eyes bugged, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Loosen up! You’re only in charge of me and the, uh…” he cleared his throat, “snail sloth. And no thief is going to steal the wallpaper.”

“It’s only been half an hour.” He gripped the helmet. “Anything could happen. Do you know how much this sort of position pays? To serve inside palace walls? I’ll never go hungry again.” His lips turned firm. “I wouldn’t have managed to land it without your pull. I can’t go risking it now.”

Zhao grabbed in air when the headpiece slid neatly off his topknot. The prince tucked it in the crook of his arm. “You won’t go hungry again. Ever.” 

“I promise.” Their eyes met, something of more absence than they knew what to do with fleeing their lungs. 

Lu Ten blinked off the daze first, hauling him by the arm behind the curtains, where the painter had abandoned his things. He was first to press his lips to his and linger slowly, sweetly.

Zhao’s laughter was between a rumble and a sigh. “You thought you could get bored when I was right outside?”

“Pah... I have you around for more than that.” He strung a lock of Zhao’s hair around his knuckle, thumb skimming his cheek. Within an instant, Lu Ten tugged free, jumped onto the chair where he was meant to sit motionless for hours - looking so daring and heroic that it was comical. “We’re adventurers! The gods threw us together, watched us train together, conquer together. We’re meant to make history, not lounge around waiting for history to make out who we were from a painting.”

“Hm, now there’s a good point.” His disbelief mingled with awe in Lu Ten’s shadow - one he barely noticed. Zhao laughed more, the sound crinkling with a soft snort. How are you so full of life?

“We could cross the tundra, climb mountain ranges where airbender ruins still whisper to the living,” Lu Ten pantomimed an otherworldly sensation, with a swirling mock of airbending - Sozin’s descendants weren’t taught much in the way of regard. Neither was the nation; Zhao fought a grin. “Or! We could master our firebending under the greatest there ever were… the very first benders to learn from the dragons.”

“The Sun Warriors?” He leaned against the wall, hoping it wasn’t indecorous - some part of him would always feel like an ugly blot in the lap of luxury. Zhao’s memory tingled, “I read of them. Once. Sounded like a tall tale to me. If they existed, they’re far gone now.”

“I say they’re alive and well.” He hopped down. The legs of the chair jerked back. “Fire of every color thrives there. Blue, purple, green, all blazing hot. Colors that don’t have names! There’s a thousand stairs to reach the golden temple behind a sea of clouds, and once you-”

“Come on, green fire? Your head’s stuck in a sea of clouds. I say tundra.”

“Stuck in a- you hate snow!” The prince’s huff spoke easily for him after all the time they’d spent together: dream a little! He gave Zhao one of his father’s looks and went to the pigments sitting in neat boxes in a larger hinged case, and grumbled again. This one stood for that sore loser…

“He hasn’t even mixed the powders into paints. I can tell where he sourced some of them - the white is crushed seashells, it looks like. Fragile, tiny shells… Four hours is starting to look like ten.”

“Green fire, purple fire, ooh,” Zhao was teasing, “What’s next, each of them stand for a pillar of society? Yellow for contracts, green for tea, pink for… hm, intercourse? I think we should start with that one when we get th-”

A creative itch had sprouted a full-out snarkfest; the prince suddenly twisted, flinging a fistful of ground powder in his guard’s direction. Outside of these walls they were lieutenant and ensign, soldiers homeward-bound if luck was on their side.

“Or maybe it stands for paying a little more respect.” Lu Ten smirked, hands at his hips. “Not that you’ve ever followed that pillar of society.”

Zhao shielded his face too late, swiped off the glimmering traces. Face ajar and upturned at his nerve.

Here, they were a lot younger, and they were home. As young as they should be.

“So that’s how it is.”

One half-hour stretched out for twenty more minutes, the seconds passing like snow in a blizzard. Fun thinned time, after all, dragging the sun higher into the sky, melting down their reservations. “You want to learn from the Sun Warriors? Well, I’m twice the warrior you are, and Agni knows my family has the divine blessing of the sun - so why not learn a lesson or two?”

“You’re on.”

Lu Ten ripped each box loose and scattered them outside the curtains; clouds of mushed petals, the deep green of palm leaves, a reddish rust like clay shingles, and pale alabaster shells - all drifting in the air like trails of smoke. The prince was splattered, his friend powdered head to foot like a circus novelty, and their laughter shook the gleaming (once spotless) hall.

“Get back here, get back here- oh no you d- ack!” Fingers smudged like they’d been rooting in the royal kitchen and licking off cream, sleeves rolled and rumpled, armor stripped so their feet could race lightly back and forth on the slippery floor.

“I’m over here, old man!”

Endless, Zhao thought, let this moment be endless. Bare skin freckled in a dizzying prism of sight and scent; he’d thrown something of tartness, plunged through the aroma of flowers to streak Lu Ten’s beaming face. He ceded him the point, returned with a swipe of orange made from dried seeds, dusting the top of his head like a showy plume. He puffed out a pale wisp. Lu Ten folded, cradling his colorful, aching gut.

They ended sprawled wide, one on top of the other, undistinguished from anything. Littering the crook of his collar, neck, cheek, and ear with kisses, the one pinned muffling a fit with the back of his palm.

“Hey,” Zhao rolled aside, the both of them heaving, trained on the hazy light pooled in the ceiling. “Don’t fire that painter.”

“Huh?” Soaking in the quiet, Lu Ten glanced over.

“He’s new to this. Wracked with nerves. Who knows if he’s trying to make ends meet? Give him a chance.” Like you did me.

The prince thought it over. “Of course. Snap judgements are more my uncle’s thing.”

“Oh gods, does he scare me.” They spent the little breath they’d scraped together snickering.

The Firelord’s firstborn accompanied the worrisome painter to pay his son a visit… No sooner had they entered the corridor did the spray of lavender on a flowerpot clue the artist to go lightheaded.

Iroh hurried to promise his compensation, divined the prince’s likely attitude to having to wash off and remain statuesque until dinner, and decided the best course of action.

The painter was redirected to capture the fiasco in a sketch, nearly abstract: both boys with their arms looped over shoulders, a smile held in their eyes as long as their warmth was close. The young man tutted under his breath as he improvised, following the stains and speckles on Lu Ten and Zhao with a deft fingertip. In the final touches, he seemed to have enjoyed himself, too.

“You should join us for dinner.” It was sundown. The prince held the piece of parchment gingerly, softening whenever his eye crossed it again.

Adventurers.

His father had extended the gesture, son nodding along. “No, no, I couldn’t.” Zhao held up his palms, still tinged with a sea of floral and earthen smells. “The pay as a royal guard is plenty, even for a temporary station… I can look after the rest myself. I know how.”

“It would be bad manners for us to let a guest leave without experiencing the most of their stay.” The general’s eyes twinkled. “And here is the best of the best! Meals so fulfilling they leave room for fifth helpings.”

“You are more than a royal guard here.” A warm, heavy palm took Zhao’s shoulder. “As close as you are to my son, I think of you as my own.”

All he knew, even decades after the best meal of his life, was that things would have gone a lot differently if he had refused.

- - -

What a dark path, the one that lay down the other fork in the road. Thankfully, in this life, Zhao had not strayed.

The city was rife with celebration, lanterns dazzling the canals as their reflections bobbed in the water. Brilliant red, jade, and silvery powders made from starch and ground herbs coasted the night air. 

A young girl in braids scampered down the pavement - chin purpled, hair smattered with blues and greens - and leaped into Zhao’s arms. He spun on a heel with her momentum, hearing a shriek of delight before her fists anchored themselves in his front. 

“This is the best! I never want to sleep again. And Ma bought me these!” She placed a warm cake before his face, expectant, and he nibbled off one end. Sweet bean paste.

Her smile revealed the gap between her teeth; snuggling to his chest again, she sighed in content. “It’s so pretty… How come this wasn’t around when you were a kid?”

“Well,” Zhao rocked her gently, an unconscious swaying that soothed her since she could crawl. “It’s actually for someone very special. He was alive when I was young. I knew him. Firelord Iroh wants the world to know him, too.”

Her eyes lit up. “I read about him in school. I tell my friends, ‘My daddy knew a prince!’ and they ask so many questions.” Zhao laughed softly, and she asked, “What was he like? Really like?”

He thought it over. “… Like this. Just like this.” Like what? Lights and colors flickered over the darkness, an endless sun, a glow that rose and went on forever. 

“Wonderful.”

[thecheesiestcheese23]

all i wanted was a normal day (so why'd you have to come and ruin it?)

!! MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 4 / 29 !!

tw : attempted murder and mentions of death

____________________________

It was supposed to be a normal day.

Philza Minecraft was working on the basement, blue concrete creating a whirlwind of the color around him.

Techno was hibernating in a secluded space somewhere in the house, so Phil didn’t have anyone to talk to. So what else was there to do besides distract himself by working on the basement? He had been working on this for a while, maybe a couple of months at least. Phil just wanted to see this build done so he and Techno could train somewhere warm instead of out in the cold.

Phil had a lot of ideas for the build stored up, but in order to do them, he had to finish out the basic outline. Ergo, that's what he was doing.

He soon got lost in the build. How long he was down there, he didn’t know. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, hell, maybe even months without Techno awake to help keep him in check.

However, a knock rang out to shove him out of his stupor, and his head moved up to the direction of the sound. If it weren’t for his supernatural hearing, he would've just continued on building like normal.

Phil placed down the blocks and started to climb up the sturdy ladder that was placed in the middle of the room. The person obviously wasn’t Ranboo, because Ranboo was over in Snowchester taking care of his son and spending time with his platonic husband. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword as he resurfaced.

The man standing in front of his door was not someone he had recognized. The man was definitely taller than Phil but wore a brown trenchcoat and simple black pants. He had unruly brown hair, similar to Wilbur’s. Wait, Wilbur? It couldn’t have been Wilbur; he was dead and no one had been able to revive him, no matter what they had done. But the hope in Phil’s heart grew, and so all of the questions in his head disapparated like his flock of crows had done when he was clambering up the ladder.

“Wil?” His voice cracked.

Wilbur smiled as his body moved to face Phil, opening his arms as a gesture for Phil to come over. “I’m back, dad.”

Now if this was a different scenario, another day, maybe Phil would’ve questioned the action and been suspicious at the name ‘dad’. However, this was not another day nor was it a different scenario, so Phil rushed over to his son, netherite boots making their mark in the snow.

Dad. Phil hasn’t heard Wil call him that in years. He smiled wobbly as he embraced his son, clutching him as if he was a lifeline. Wilbur, with some hesitation, slowly started to hug him back.

It was almost slow enough so Phil didn’t feel or see the sword that was clutched in his son’s hand.

Almost.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked, his smile wiped clean off his face, his calloused hand grasping Wilbur’s trembling wrist. The sword that was about to pierce right through his armor froze.

____________________________

“Phil?” Wilbur’s hand froze right above the button, his heart hammering in his chest.

“What are you doing, Wil?”

“Well, we, uh, elected Tubbo president and- oh.” Wilbur finally turned around, only to come face-to-face with his father.

“Mhmm.”

____________________________

“Phil?”

Oh, how history loves to repeat itself.

“Wil,” Phil says tiredly, sighing shoulders slumping down from exhaustion. “Please tell me you weren’t about to kill me.” He should’ve known that this was too good to be true as soon as Wilbur called him his dad.

Phil could feel the vibrations of Wilbur’s chuckle but could hear that there was no humor in it. It felt empty, just like Wilbur’s eyes when he finally made a move to make eye contact. “Oh Phil,” Wilbur joylessly said, smiling like a madman. “I was just trying to return the favor for what you did to me.”

A sense of coldness washed over Phil, settling in his bones and racking around in his hurting heart. This cold was unlike the one that was commonly in the tundra, it was bone-chilling and filled Phil with an unsettling sense of dread.

“For what I did to you?” The cold turned into a burning rage, warming him up but not in the comforting way that he would’ve liked. “For what I did to you?” He repeated, spitting out the words with sudden burning hatred. He pushed Wil away, (not enough to hurt him, he had never wanted to hurt Wilbur, ever) hands clenched into fists.

“You were the one who blew up your country, or your ‘unfinished symphony’, as you so eloquently shouted to me as the reins of terror were placed in your hands. You, like a coward, were the one who made me kill you, just so you wouldn’t have to face the consequences of your own actions.”

____________________________

“Kill me Phil! Stab me with the sword! Do it!”

“I can’t, you’re my son!”

____________________________

“You are not a showman, or a hero, or a villain. You are a coward, Wilbur Soot.”

“Phil, I am no coward. I simply knew my time had come and I knew just the person who should do it. You, Phil. A father killing his own son in the end after spending years and years of his life raising his son. Such a bittersweet ending to a chapter of life. But Phil, I realized something in my thirteen boring years of living in Limbo. I didn’t want to die. Not yet at least.”

Phil shook his head, tears clouding his vision. “You know what Wilbur, leave. Leave this place and never return.”

Wilbur seemed shocked, not the reaction he had been expecting out of Phil.

“Go before I resort to other methods.” With that, Wilbur scampered off to god knows where.

Phil’s frame shook with silent sobs, his knees moving downwards and making their place in the freezing snow.

It was supposed to be a normal day.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Snow”

Another suggestion you guys gave me :) Hope you like it! 

Maroz 324’s sky was cold and blue overhead. It’s distant binary stars hung high in the sky over the flat, cold alien landscape painted in shades of blue and white. No footprints, or tracks of any kind crossed it’s surface, and remained that way until the shuttle roared down from the bright morning sky and towards the chilled surface.

The GA (Galactic Assembly’s( scientific landing crew felt the weight of the ship as it settled onto the ice, and unbuckled themselves from their seats turning towards the wall to grab their gear. The crew consisted of two Vrul, one Tesraki and a Rundi as it usually was…. That was all accept for the humans, who ducked through the door and into the room, tall and menacing with their forward facing eyes and glittering white teeth.

The human pilot, wearing an eyepatch, and accompanied by a Vrul and Drev of his own paused in the doorway, “We ran some diagnostics on the planet surface. The ice is made mostly of well…. Water which is obviously a good thing for us. As for temperature and atmospheric readings, we have mostly nitrogen, bu at least 21% oxygen. Not a whole lot of carbon. Outside reading on the ship shows that there seems to be no liquid water present on the surface, and as such indicates no bacterial presence, though that may mean nothing at this point. Temperature is a balmy -20 degrees Fahrenheit or -28 degrees celsius.

“Balmy, is this your humor, human?” one of the scientists wondered pulling on a contained environment suit with respirator, temperature control, and a crap-load of other life support equipment, “Subzero temperatures make this planet a deathtrap, unlivable. An extremely hostile environment.”

The human just smiles a calm smile,“Balmy at this point means, wow my face isn’t going to freeze off and shatter upon contact with the air.”

“But ... that's exactly what -20 means.” 

Behind him, the other humans were falling into the room pulling on multiple layers of clothing. The human before them did the same. Two pairs of pants, and boots, and then another strange fibrous layer, and then a large fluffy jacket above that. There seemed to be no room for life support aboard their uniforms. In fact, the scientists were skeptical whether the suits were airtight enough not to lose air rather than contain it. The human pulled on a cap over his head and delicate ears, which were sure to freeze in the cold. There was no question that humans weren't meant for low temperatures, seeing as they lost heat quickly, and had no hair to keep them warm.

That might be why it seemed as if their gear was so primitive…. Perhaps because they had to develop subzero life support systems early on. The original human pulled on two pairs of gloves flexing his fingers inside the suit before donning a strange set of eyewear which he perched atop his head.

As far as they could tell ,he wore no respirator, and there was nothing protecting his eyes from freezing inside his head. The rest of the scientific group had donned their gear…. The same gear they would have worn in the vacuum of space, and then motioned towards the airlock. The humans shuffled forward with a sort of swishing squeaking noise, and the scientists followed behind them. The lead human carried a specimen tube on his back with another vrul encased on the inside looking surprisingly bored as if he was used to the human’s atics by this point. 

They were growing rather nervous watching them, “Aren't you going to put on your helmets?” one of them wondered through the intercom.

The humans looked down at him. Through their noses and mouths were covered by strange fibrous material, the way their eyes scrunched hinted at amusement.

Behind them, the airlock hissed shut, “Why would we do something like that.”

The human hit the button and the cabin depressurized. The scientists looked on in horror expecting humans to fall to the ground dead, but they seemed more than ok. One of them walked towards the door as a decontamination spray bathed them in a fine layer of mist. The door lurched open with a clunk, and a wave of what must have been freezing cold air flooded into the cabin.

Together, the scientists looked up in shock expecting the human’s eyes to immediately freeze and shatter inside their skulls, or at least to see their skin turn blue. No such thing happen, together, the humans walked out into the snow with a soft crunch crunch. To their shock, the main human pulled the material down from his mouth, and then breathed deeply. Hot air plumed from his mouth in smoke like rings.

“Ah…. nothing like a little cold to invigorate the self.” he took another deep breath. For a moment they stared on in surprise, shock and awe, that was before the man began to cough violently doubling over for a moment, probably ready to keel over and die.

The other humans began to laugh at him.

HE pulled the material up over his face, still coughing, “Note to self, air very dry, lungs on fire,.”

The scientists stared on in wonder as the human quickly recovered.

“What…. But…. how/”

The human turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, “Are you kidding. Where I come from it can get -40 degrees towards the beginning of the year. So cold you can turn boiling water into water vapor in seconds.”

“But ... but how…. You have no fur.”

“What do you think the jacket is for.”

“But your lungs.”

The human reached up and prodded at his nose with a hand, “That’s what this puppy is for keeps the air humid and warm for the lungs. I advise breathing through the nose in cold situations rather than the mouth.

“Your eyes….”

“Tons of blood flow, and there are nice and cozy inside my sull, stop worrying so much.”

He turned towards the planet hands on his hips, “I don’t know about you boys and girls, but I would consider this planet habitable, at least worth harvesting water from. So maybe some sort of base here.”

The scientists just stared as the (life support-less) humans marched into the snow.

“Think about it, one of the humans muttered watching as the scientists took their readings, “No one has ever set foot here…. Ever.” 

The lead human tapped his chin with a musing expression, “Mmm ... good point.” It was then that he left off a strange animal bugle and ran straight onto the tundra hopping and dancing and running around in circles on the white plane of ice and snow almost slipping and falling on more than one occasion. It didn’t take long before the other humans were running after him engaging in primitive and aggressive play with each other. 

A human took a running start and then dug his heels into the icy snow going skidding past another human who had flopped down on her back to open and close her arms and legs while laughing. 

A human leaped over her and then went rolling into the snow sending an explosion of white powder up after him rolling to a stop only to copy the woman before. The scientists, who should have been collecting samples, just stared on in wonder and confusion as the humans happily played in the snow and ice.

Two humans tackled another one and forced his face into the snow before scampering away only to be chased by their snowy counterpart whose warm skin was melting the snow on his face only to have it freeze against his skin. 

“What are they doing.” One of the scientists asked in wonder.

The Vrul inside his test tube sighed, “They are frolicking I believe is the term. Humans love snow, or at least some humans love sow. That one there is making a snow angel, those ones there just performed what is called a ‘whitewash’.”

The scientists turned to the Vrul hunkered down inside his specimen tube, “how do you know all of this?”

He sighed “The first time I visited earth, it was during a blizzard.”

“You’ve been to earth!” They exclaimed in unison.

“More than once unfortunately.” He droned watching as one human snuck up on another with a handful of snow shoving it in their face when they weren’t expecting it. He came over sputtering and spitting snow out of his mouth, “Ok, Ok, this means war.” The aliens looked on with worried expressions as the human trudged over to the ship where the heat of the engines, still cooling had melted a plot of snow in a wide circle around the craft. He dug his hand in towards the edge scooping up a handful of snow and began packing it together.

Together the scientists came forward with curiosity, “How did you do that.”

The human looked u in puzzlement, holding out his ball of snow, “What…. You didn’t know that it sticks together.” he tossed the ball of snow up and down in a single hand, “Well my friends, you are about to be introduced to a human game that has been near and dear to our hearts from times of great antiquity.”

He turned towards where the other humans were still ‘frolicking in the snow’ and violently snapped his arm around in an overhand circle. 

There was an explosion of snow on the back of one of the human’s jackets and he stumbled nearly falling flat on his face. He turned eyes narrowed, and then came barreling towards the human who had thrown it.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!”  

The entire tundra broke into chaos around the ship, and the scientists ducked for cover as balls of frozen liquid began flying through the air at incredible speed. The first human was nailed in the face ending up on his back in the snow holding a hand to his nose.

The other humans only stopped to see if he was ok before continuing on in their mission. Two took up position behind one of the struts holding the ship up, one of them throwing the snowballs, while the other made them and handed them off with unwavering accuracy. 

Eventually someone was smashed over the head with a snowball the size of his own head and the two ended up tumbling to the snow rolling end over end as they tried to stick each other’s faces in the cold, wet ground.

The scientists were making no headway and were forced to yell at the humans to knock it off hoping beyond hope that this was not some sort of primitive mutiny by the humans. It was so violent and aggressive.

“ALL OF YOU KNOCK IT OFF!” The humans stopped, and everyone turned to find the Vrul in the test tube with both of his arms crossed, just like the humans, “can’t you see you are ruining the  scientific field and contaminating it., “Either you play nice with each other, or you are all going back inside.” 

To their surprise, the humans slumped and muttered to each other giving the scientists time to go out and begin sampling away from the ship where the chaos had taken place. Behind them, two humans had begun rolling a massive ball of snow, which didn’t seem like it should have stuck together, but totally did. Another one sat in the snow and absently crunched on a snoball.

“Get that out of your mouth!” The vrul in the test tube demanded, “You don’t know what could possibly be in it.”

The human looked up at him licking his lips, “Don’t eat yellow snow.” He held out the snowball, “This snow is white.”

“It is from another planet.”

“What is yellow snow.” A returning scientist wondered, “I did not know that snow came in different colors.”

The human grinned malevolently, “Oh yes yellow snow. I know how to make it too. A serious process.” the other humans began giggling. The vrul inside his specimen tube did not seem pleased.

Behind them two of the humans had managed to stack three snowballs one on top of the other.

“What are you doing.

The humans turned to look, “Do you like it? This is our snowman.”

“Snowman?” They wondered in confusion. Another human walked up from behind with two snowballs and stuck them onto the middle snowball.

“Now it is a snow woman.” 

He received a face full of snow for his trouble.” 

Another human inched by on his back pushing himself through the snow on his back like some kind of strange arctic inch worm. The other humans, and aliens alike turned to watch him go, the humans with amusement and the aliens with confusion.

Apparently, despite being spawned in the dessert, or savanna, humans greatly enjoy the cold, when snow is involved, they will eat it, play with it, throw it at each other, bury themselves in it burrowing around like snow worms. No one understands why this is, by all rights it should kill them, but humans are adaptable basterds, and I suppose that the ability to live in a cold climate would give them no end to the water that they might need.

Still it is very strange, there is something about snow that brings out the primitive human, which will then display a strange sort of ritualistic play .

There will have to be more research done about this in the future, but for now it will have to remain a mystery. 

[circumstellars]

Hello there! Can I have a ficlet with dialogue prompt, 'What's making him scream like that?' for Five and Diego, or any siblings you like ;)

[Ok so this turned out slightly longer than intended, but I was able to blend it together with another idea I had for a follow up to this ficlet.

The context is that this is canon compliant in that it happens somewhere near the end of S1EP4, when passed out drunk Five is recovering in Diego’s bed.

Basically Five has an PTSD episode, or a night terror if that’s easier, and the line you prompted I rearranged and altered a bit to fit the scene, so I hope that’s okay?

In this addition to the canon, when they were little Ben begins to have trouble controlling the otherworldly monster he uses, and Five has made a promise he won’t let things get out of hand. Fast forward to S1, where Luther and Diego are taking care of him, but before Al comes to deliver Eudora’s message, and it is sandwiched between two Five apocalypse flashbacks.

So so so many thanks to @michlle, or @/kkie on TUA Adult Fan Discord server. She’s an amazing beta that helped me in a pinch! So the only reason my grammar is so much better than usual is entirely thanks to her.

Very angsty. Blood, just a snippet a violence. Brotherly pain all around, emotional suffering. Enjoy! I hope you like it.]

================================================

⟨p⟩=md⟨x⟩/dt=mddt∫∞−∞x|ψ|2dx=m∫∞−∞x∂|ψ|2∂tdx.­­­ 'It's a simple fucking equation, what is wrong?' His shaky fingers struggled with the chalk, accidentally snapping off one end against the concrete wall. Five swore, making a face at the broken piece of chalk like it spoke ill of his mother.

Oh god. Mom.  His face crumpled. 'The expectation values of displacement and momentum... obey time evolution equations analogous with,' a wet cough interrupted his deflated musing. He spun around and rested against the concrete he had been writing on moments before, before turning an eye to Dolores. '... the mechanics of Schrödinger’s equation.'  Dolores gave him a weary look. Five avoided her gaze. She didn't know. It's not like she had been forced to pick up quantum physics at age ten, and really, he had to forgive her for that.  The sun was powerful today, as it had been at least seventeen of the twenty-six days he'd been stuck in the apocalyptic ruins of his former city. It should have only been the end of April, if that newspaper clipping he held close was in fact the last thing to have been printed, but it felt hotter than middle July easily. The aggressive winds of mid-afternoon whipped all sorts of debris into his frail body and any exposed skin, and Five simply couldn't risk any injuries that could deplete his energy. He was on the cusp of fixing this, he could feel it in his exhausted bones.

He swallowed down the start of a painful sob, careful to steel over his expression. 'I know you said something about the farthest right term Dolores, but I'm not neglecting it,' Five chided, breathing into the dirty scarf around his face.

He turned around and scooped up the chalk he had rejected moments ago. 'The spatial extent of the particle wavefunction isn't smaller than the variation length-scale of the potential. You're clever, and pretty, but not that clever.' 

Five snorted at his own banter, smiling into the trails of chalk spilling from his hand as it ran across the rubble. 'Now, listen carefully this time...' --- Diego unceremoniously dropped Dolores on a nearby chair.  The fuck is this for?  He gave the mannequin an odd look. A few steps away Luther lowered their brother carefully into Diego's roomy, luxurious twin cot, rolling the sleepy, drunken Five so that he was resting comfortably on his side. 

Diego sidled next to Luther, joining him in looking over their tiny brother. Small, frozen in time for them both in memory and now, awkwardly, in reality too. The baby fat still very much clung to his still rounded features and made him look impossibly younger in a way that brought nostalgia roaring up the esophagus like heartburn. He was supposedly twice their age now? Diego scrunched his nose; to think this child, for all intents and purposes, laid here so serenely- so sweetly, dare he say it, looked like a boy who'd just tired himself out at school that day. Yet he knew, the moment Five sobered up, the illusion would crumble swiftly and without mercy. 'Funny, if I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.' 

Luther snorted. 'Well, don't worry. He'll sober up eventually... and be back to his normal, unpleasant self.'

That's not good enough. 'Yeah - I can't wait that long.' Diego spun on his heel, intending to grab provisions. Five had about ten minutes of rest before Diego would be ready to forcibly pull him into consciousness with soda crackers and ginger-ale. 'I need to find out what connections he has to these lunatics before someone else dies.'

Luther didn't respond right away, eyes flickering to Five and back. He looked pensive, uncomfortable. Diego still hadn’t gotten used to the subtle changes in Luther's personality; it was disquieting the way he looks so much bigger than he used to, and yet now he seems so much smaller to Diego than he ever physically was. The big man had an air of constant uncertainty around him.

'That stuff he was saying before...' Luther began after a moment, 'what do you think he meant by that?' Diego glanced over his shoulder at Five's sleeping figure, curled up tightly in foetal position. His expression darkened in his sleep, and Diego frowned. 'I don't know...' The words came slowly, his focus narrowing in on his littlest brother. He turned quickly again, box of soda crackers forgotten on his dingy counter.

Five began to fuss, still unconscious, but his body began to shake some, and his entire expression was pinched in discomfort. Luther was watching Diego, puzzled, and followed his eyes back to Five on the cot behind him.

Then came the screaming.

Both Luther and Diego jumped back in alarm as the most harrowing, stomach-churning scream came from Five. He was folded into himself, clutching at his own biceps so hard his knuckles were bone-white. The screams that were coming from him sounded so raw Diego was sure he was damaging his vocal cords in some way.

Luther came down from his initial shock quicker than Diego and was at the cot in an instant. Diego held his breath, jaw fighting to unhinge. He was always quick in his reflexes, but something held Diego down and glued his feet to the floor. His body was alarmingly stiff with inaction.

Luther was gripping at Five, holding him as he jerked back and forth, scream after scream tearing through his rattled body. Over and over Luther tried to talk over Five, wake him up, continuously asking him what is wrong and 'what is happening Five? Can't you hear me?'

'W-ww-why is h-h-h-he screaming like t-that?'

Diego’s broken voice was swallowed up in the cacophony of Five's agonising wailing and Luther's panicked mantra of Five, Five, Please Five, Five!

Five's painful screams were tearing bloody wounds into Diego’s eardrums, and the sound of his little brother in such convincingly raw misery pulled terrifying tremors up from deep within his belly.

Go.

What happened?

Iego.

Five?

'-Iego. Diego! Diego!' Luther's voice hit him like an anvil. 'Hey?'

Why is he screaming like that?

All at once life moved forward with a start. Air sucked its way back into Diego's lungs and his attention snapped to his brothers. Five was no longer on the bed, but crumpled over on their large brother's lap, clutching not his own arms anymore but instead had all ten, trembling fingers gripped into Luther's jacket for absolute, dear life. Luther had a pained expression etched into his normally hard visage, and his arms came up to hold Five in place as gently as Diego had ever seen his giant brother move. It only dawned on him then, that Five wasn't screaming anymore.

Diego moved quietly, setting himself on the bed next to his brothers as silently as he could, almost as if he were afraid to spook an already terrified deer pinned between a rocky ledge and an oncoming truck. 

Mindlessly Diego laid his gloved hand to his little brother's head, cupping the back of it gingerly. Something heavy threatened to pull his heart into his guts, and the struggle disguised itself in the shadows of his expression.

For a while everything was deadly quiet. The pipes in the old building gurgled apropos nothing, the boxing business outside long closed for the evening with only Al's occasional footsteps any sure sign life still existed outside this hole he called home.

Diego couldn't hear much else, aside from the ragged breaths shaking Five's small chest. His eyes were still closed, creased with concern, delicate fans of black eyelashes twitching as his brain worked through whatever dark secrets Five hadn’t dared to yet share with any of his siblings. 

'Five...' but Diego’s voice aborted the words in his throat, and he met Luther's eyes. He found no answers.

What did you see, Five?

--- Day 42.

A rat scampered past Five’s feet and jumped into a pile of debris outside the remains of a nearby fast-food joint. He shaded his eyes with his left hand and looked over the large expanse of the now lifeless tundra he used to call home. The details of everything in the distance dissolved into the intensely hot horizon.

‘Today is as good a day as any,’ he said, exhaling loudly. Dolores agreed from where she was perched in her wagon. I’m ready.

Five ripped off his weighty, layered scarf and tossed it to the ground.  Today is the day. He was going to get back to his family.

He took another deep breath and ran over some calculations a final time in his head, his eyebrows pinching together with determination. Focus.

First, just a hum. Then, a moment later a spark. Five growled and redoubled his efforts, tightening his fists as hard as they would go, until the jagged half-moons of his nails cut right into the flesh of his palms. 

‘Come on!’  And then it appeared. Small, at first, but definitely, absolutely, positively the start of the vortex, undeniable as it began flickering into existence. It was immediately apparent Five couldn’t do this for a second longer than he had to; every muscle in his body was desperately working to help him rip a hole right into the material of the space-time continuum, and pain blossomed in every limb, one after another.

‘COME ON!’  The air around the wormhole became unstable, trying to escape the vacuum and whipping everything around Five into a frenzy. Dolores tipped over in her wagon, and Five nearly lost his grip on the material of time. He willed himself into ignoring her momentarily, letting out a howl as he pulled open the vortex as far as it would go. Five inhaled shakily, and let go.

I did it. There it was. He was finally going home.  Five’s knees nearly buckled underneath him as he was hit with a heady wave of excitement and relief. Luther. Vanya. Ben! Diego-- all of them. He was going to see them all again, today. Now. Tears spilt from his eyes, but he didn’t take any notice. There were flickers of life beyond the vortex, and then faces, and bodies, and Allison and Klaus, unmistakable as they filtered in and out of focus like the signal was dying on an old television set.  Five was animated in an instant and turned to grab Dolores. They had to go. Now.  He scooped up her feather-light body. ‘Leave it, Dolores! We don’t have time!’ He’d find her a new sweater once they were home. Hell, he’d buy her a whole rack of her own sweaters, anything Dolores wants, if only they got home right now.

And then the screaming came.

Five whipped around. 

Again. First one voice, then two. Many more joined them, and Five ran toward the wormhole. 

‘BEN!’

Ben? Five braced himself against the pull of the vortex, the air thin and difficult to pull into his lungs. It whipped around him with a force he’d never felt before, and his hat and goggles were snatched from his head and thrown well into the distance. The shrieking was getting louder, closer, and the images from the other side pieced together the closer Five inched into its grip. The voices were blood-curdling, and his whole body went cold with terror.

‘Diego, don’t!’

‘Ben! Klaus, get out of the way!’

‘BEEEEEEEEEEEENNN!’

‘BEN! WHATS HAPPENING!?’

‘BEN!’

No.

No, no.

He was going back, it was going to be okay. Five was going back, it was going to be okay.

It all happened within the span of three seconds.

The fuzzy images of his siblings running, screaming, blood soaked into their clothes, painted across their young faces – dripping from their feet as they scrambled away. 

Ben. 

Ben’s body dangling nearly fifteen feet off the ground, monstrous appendages thrashing wildly and destroying the surroundings with savage flings. 

Two grotesque limbs held his bloodied and mangled brother skywards, uninhibited by his terrified screams.

No. 

No. no. no. no.

No. no. no. no. no. nonononono-

‘Someone stop him!’

‘Klaus you can’t! KLAUS-‘

It felt like his skin was being flayed from his muscle. Five thought he might have been screaming too but couldn’t hear anything. All he knew for sure was the feeling of his molecules being pulled apart.

Everything was silent.  Like the deadness of space itself, for a fraction of a second, a microscopic fragment of time - absolutely nothing existed. Crunch.

The blood that hit his face hurt. And then someone pressed play.

Everything moved again and it knocked the wind out of his lungs. Five was violently thrown from the throes of the wormhole, sucked back into his own point in time and tossed several feet backwards into strewn debris. 

‘NO!’ 

The vortex he’d spent forty-two days working on was gone, just like that. Absorbed into the material of space, the deep wound he’d used every ounce of energy to create was now healed over in a matter of seconds, lost to some other dimension and out of his grasp. Ben. He’d promised him. He had promised his brother he would be there, that he would figure it out.

That Ben wouldn’t die. But Five let him. He watched the brutal final seconds of his brother’s life, his body torn into pieces by the beast he tried so hard to contain. Five wasn’t there.

He didn’t make it.  He had told Ben he wouldn’t let him die, but he did, and Five just watched it happen, unable to do absolutely fucking shit. The sun was merciless. It baked Ben’s blood on every part that had briefly touched the other side. It settled into the cracks of the tattered skin on his right hand, pulled at the skin under his eyes and on his cheeks – crusted where it had dripped into his mouth and over his tongue. When the trance that numbed Five finally broke, it was nightfall. 

He still sat on his haunches, a few fingers on his left hand barely curled around Dolores’ shirt.  And when it did, and his throat finally moved to swallow, his limbs twitching with overwhelming pain, and his chest trembling violently, the only thing Five could feel was the fiery strain of the unending wailing that tore ceaselessly from his lungs.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Written for Kataang Week 2020. Prompt - Soft.

Momo is figuring out where he fits in with his new family.

~~~

Idk, this one's just cute. I kept the relationship tag as & because it's early in Book 1 and there's no romantic stuff going on. *shrugs*

Enjoy!

~~~

Momo was skittish the first few days he was with them. He scampered around Appa’s saddle and flew loop-de-loops around the bison while they traveled and stuck his hands into every bundle of supplies they had, and every evening when they stopped for the night he’d spend an hour running circles around their campsite. He chittered a lot and screamed occasionally and spent a lot of time watching Katara and Sokka from a safe distance.

Aang was the only person Momo came within arm’s reach of, and that was probably because Aang kept fruit in his pockets. When Momo progressed to diving into Aang’s clothes in search of food, Katara finally voiced her concerns.

“Aang, are you sure he’s...tame?” She’d grown up on the tundra, where most animals were either eaten or wanted to eat you. Watching Momo clamber all over Aang with prying hands and nibbling teeth was putting her on edge.

Aang watched in delight as Momo tried to shove his head up his sleeve, searching for treats. “I mean, he’s not tame, but...he’s also not exactly wild -wild.” Momo gave up on Aang’s sleeve and hopped up on Aang’s shoulder to nose at his shirt collar. “His ancestors were domesticated, so it shouldn’t be too hard to tame him.” Momo found a berry Aang had hidden and snatched it from his collar, chittering happily. He took a moment to nuzzle Aang’s chin before eating it. Aang grinned. “Lemurs are pretty intelligent. They kind of domesticated themselves, actually.”

“How so?”

“We leave food out, at the altars,” Aang said. “Always have, ever since the temples were first built.” He paused a moment, expression faltering slightly. Probably realizing he’d been speaking in present tense. Katara didn’t comment on it. Aang soldiered on. “So at some point thousands of years ago, the wild lemurs figured out the food was free for the taking, so they started eating it, and we figured out how to live with each other. And then we started keeping them on purpose and bred them for less wild traits. Momo might never have seen humans before, but his recent ancestors still had all those traits.”

“So...Momo’s not really wild, he’s just feral?” Katara surmised.

Aang grinned. “That’s it!”

Katara had to suppress a grimace. Feral wasn’t much better.

“And lemurs are really social creatures,” Aang added. “Momo must’ve had a troop at some point, but he’s obviously been alone for a while and he’s made it clear he wants to join our family. He’s just trying to figure out how he fits in, what he can and can’t do. We just need to give him some time to settle in...and also train him to have the right behaviors.”

“Is that why you’ve been putting fruit in your clothes?” Katara asked, watching Momo curiously pat Aang’s stomach.

“Yep!”

“...What kind of behavior are you even trying to get from that?”

It was at that moment that Momo decided to dive down Aang’s collar into his shirt. Aang giggled for a moment, while Katara winced at the idea of the lemur’s little teeth being so close to her friend’s skin. And then Momo came back out, a marble clutched in one little paw. He stared at it confusedly.

“Momo,” Aang said, and the lemur looked up - he was already growing used to his name. “Marbles please.” And then he switched the marble in Momo’s paw out with a berry. The lemur chittered, pleased, and stuffed the food in his mouth. Aang grinned. “Good boy!”

“You’re...training him to get things out of your pockets,” Katara said.

“Yep! Lemurs are great at getting stuff! That’s why we have them, you know - to fetch things.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes,” Aang said, with an air of experience, “you’ve got a whole herd of bison that you’re trying to keep on track, and one of the calves gets frisky, and you don’t have time to dive after your glider when it falls off the saddle. Or your kids are being rambunctious in the back while you’re trying to navigate and their favorite doll gets thrown overboard. Or you hit some turbulence and the map you were holding goes flying. Lemurs are great at diving after things!”

“Huh,” said Katara. She could see how that might be useful.

Momo had finished chewing on his berry, and he ran his hands over Aang’s bald head. Aang giggled.

“Now what’s he doing?” Katara asked.

“Trying to groom me, I think. Lemurs groom each other to show affection. I don’t have any hair, but they’d groom some of the older monks’ beards. And the girls had hair, they always loved grooming the girls…” Aang trailed off just as Momo lifted his head to look at Katara.

Katara blinked back.

Momo made a trilling little noise and hopped from Aang’s shoulder to Katara’s.

“Whoa - ”

“Hold still!” Aang said, delighted. “He won’t hurt you! Just let him do his thing.”

Katara felt little lemur hands pat over her hair and ear and the bun at the back of her head. “Eep,” she managed.

“He likes you!” Aang grinned.

It wasn’t so bad, Katara thought, holding perfectly still as Momo gently...what, petted her? It was weird, but it wasn’t awful.

Momo took another minute to paw through her hair before hopping from her shoulder down to her lap. He turned and looked up at Katara for a moment, and she stared right back at those big green eyes. Then, coming to some sort of decision, Momo turned and curled up in her lap, perfectly at ease, and he made an expectant chittering noise.

“You’d better repay the favor,” Aang told her.

Carefully, Katara ran a hand over one of Momo’s long ears. “Oh,” she breathed, as her fingers stroked fur softer than sealskin. “He’s soft.”

“Lemurs are super soft,” Aang agreed.

Katara eagerly sank both hands into soft lemur fur, and Momo was a happy purring puddle of trust in her lap less than five seconds later.

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, especially since I'm pretty sure I'm about to start A Day at work and I could use the positivity. <3

Notes!

Headcanon that flying lemurs, much like cats, domesticated themselves and humans went along with it. Also monkeys hanging out around temples where a lot of food offerings get left is indeed a thing that happens in the real world, so obviously lemurs would do that too.

I am pretty sure that the driving force behind the domestication of flying lemurs was, as Aang said, they're good at fetching things. Momo grabs so much stuff for the Gaang throughout the series - off the top of my head, marbles, spearheads Sokka had chopped off, a fish, the waterbending scroll, all that random junk when Sokka and Katara got sick (no one had trained him how to fetch water yet it wasn't his fault he didn't understand and he was trying!). Having an animal that can act as a companion and an extra set of hands sounds very useful when you're up in the sky all day.

Thanks for reading!

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows

-

A03

FanFiction

- 

Fire and Ice: Part Three (XVIIII)

 -

Long streams of water descended the walls. The floor beneath their feet buckled under the heat of the rising flames. Cleyo and the mages turned on them in unison. Elsa and Honeymaren were outnumbered, but Ahtohallan was their land to defend. 

A powerful blast of power emitted from Elsa’s hands. It collided with a shield of fire, melting upon impact. 

“Get behind me!” she shouted to Honeymaren. 

Honeymaren had no choice but to comply. She fell into a defensive stance at Elsa’s back, her eyes saying all her mouth refused. 

Cleyo’s rage sent a series of fireballs in their direction. Elsa warded them off with hits of her own. In one quick fluid motion, ice rained down from her palm. A set of spikes cast up from the ground and created a barrier between them and the mages. 

“Woah!” Honeymaren shouted, startled by movement beneath them. 

The floors trembled. Ahtohallan cried out in protest. Blocks of ice were rattled from the walls and crashed into the frozen earth. The mighty weight had their feet stumbling across the slick floor. 

As another chunk fell, Elsa’s eyes grew large. “Ahtohallan is defending itself!” she explained. “We have to lead the mages out of here or the whole glacier will come down with us inside!”

“Isn’t that what she wants- to destroy Ahtohallan?”

Elsa threw Honeymaren a quick glare. “I don’t think she anticipates dying herself in the process!”

“Let her!” Honeymaren continued, pulling Elsa back by the arm. Another block of ice fell before their feet, and the two were knocked roughly together. “Let her take the glacier down and die trying! Then we can worry about getting out of here alive!”

Elsa’s response was cut-off as sparks poured in overhead. Thinking fast, Elsa ducked her and Honeymaren beneath an umbrella of ice. The sparks deterred. Red embers faded to black against its surface, however, the longer the sparks continued; the weaker Elsa’s ice became. 

Honeymaren winced. Her eyes pulled to her shoulder. A tiny ember had slipped through the shield and fallen onto her sleeve. As she brushed it off, Elsa reinforced the ice with a second blast of her magic. 

“You’re right.” she told Honeymaren. “We need to focus on getting out of here! I can’t put my energy into taking Cleyo down while Ahtohallan crumbles around us.”

She pulled the umbrella to their front, backing them toward the tunnel. Both women gasped as they were suddenly swept off their feet. Gale, having circled in, barreled through the frozen tundra with tempest force. 

“It appears Ahtohallan has called for backup…” Honeymaren stilled with a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. 

Elsa didn’t respond, though. She was distracted. Gale had dropped a folded letter, and Elsa watched it fluttering out of reach. She quickly dove. Her chest slid over the ice. The parchment dared to land amongst the snake of flames slithering her way, but she saved it at the last second. 

Elsa stashed the letter safely beneath her shirt. Honeymaren pulled her to stand as her face filled with worry. 

“Look!” she pointed toward the center of the dome. “This isn’t going to end well!”

Honeymaren was right. Gale’s presence only increased the strength of Cleyo’s powers. Flames raged to new heights. The heat trapped in the chamber was becoming unbearable, and the walls began to crumble at an unprecedented rate. 

“Gale!” Elsa called her back. “Pull us out! Don’t encourage the flames!”

Yet, Gale was hungry; starving for vengeance. She had come in contact with the mages, and now her energy had stirred. 

“The amulets! They’ve put Gale off-balance.” Honeymaren reminded her. “Here, take my hand!”

Elsa’s fingers slipped between her’s. Gale continued circling the flames, pulling their white tips up to the height of the ceiling. Amidst her destruction, she ignored Elsa’s calls. Not even the combined strength of Honeymaren’s love was enough to break her focus. 

Suddenly though, a new arrival appeared. Tiny feet scampered up their hands and stilled against Elsa’s shoulder. 

“Bruni!” she greeted with a sigh of relief. “I was wondering where you were hiding!”

He licked his eyeball as if saying, hello. 

“Bruni, I need you to target the black cloaks! Distract them so I can call back Gale!”

He gave a single shake of his head. Bruni squeaked and leapt from her arm. He was next seen skittering across the slick floor, diving into the flames, before being lost to a wall of fire. 

Honeymaren’s hand squeezed against Elsa’s. “You need to try again.” she encouraged her. 

Elsa pulled the ice shield safely above them. She noticed that, very quickly, they were being back into the rear wall. Flames surged nearer, and Gale’s winds weren’t helping. If this battle with Cleyo continued this way, they wouldn’t have much longer to live. 

“Okay.” she agreed with a deep breath.

Elsa closed her eyes. 

She could feel the power alive within her veins. The source in her chest was blooming with strength. Elsa’s magic called out to Gale, while Honeymaren’s hand sat warm in her own.

The heat was a distraction, but energizing all the same. 

In an instant, Elsa was swept off her feet again. Although this time, she was held safely above the floor. Honeymaren was beside her. She floated uneasily in Gale’s wings. The two kept their hands fastened together as they balanced amongst the circling wind. 

Then from overhead, it began to snow. Thick blankets of white powder poured down from the height of the dome. As Honeymaren and Elsa were carried above their heads, Cleyo and the mages adjusted their stance. 

Cleyo’s tirade did not stop with their advantage. Angrily, she cast a line of fire into Gale’s gust. Gale spiralled quickly, nearly dropping Honeymaren and Elsa. She caught them, and in a panic; deposited them at the edge of the final slide. 

“If you take Ahtohallan down from its inside, you too shall meet your end!” Elsa bellowed. “This isn’t about magic, nor this place! This is about what  you  want from  me !”

Swiftly, Elsa turned from the balcony. She tugged Honeymaren to follow, and led them into the narrow tunnel. Yet, its ground was slick. Its downward angle made it difficult for Honeymaren to climb.

Cleyo neared. They could hear the flames rising at their backs, but then Gale appeared; applying steady pressure against their legs. She led them up the slope. They were gliding across the ice at speed, blinded by the wind chill. 

Honeymaren was brought to a hard and ungraceful stop beyond the foyer. She tripped, landing chest first onto the shores of Ahtohallan. Elsa slid in next to her. She pulled Honeymaren to her feet. 

“Now what?” she looked to Elsa. Her brows drew low into a frown. 

Despite the long summer days, the sky was growing dark. Time had escaped them while Ahtohallan divulged its secrets. Another day threatened to end. 

“I can’t leave this place defenseless…” Elsa considered. “I swore to protect the Northern lands, but I can’t risk fueling Cleyo’s anger either. If she reaches Arendelle before I can…” 

Elsa shivered as she turned silent.

Honeymaren’s expression came to match hers. She nodded. Her teeth grit. “We need to get the amulets away from the mages. It doesn’t solve everything, but it restores the balance of nature, and it can buy us more time! They can't stir the spirits without them, nor can they deflect your attacks. It’s the next right thing!”

Confusion grew across Elsa’s face. It quickly fell away and she shook her head. “No, I don’t want you getting involved.” she scolded.  

“There’s no time to argue! I will take on the mages, and you worry about Cleyo!”

An orange glow emitted from beyond the foyer. Honeymaren took advantage of Elsa’s distraction and quickly darted from her reach. In one swift jump, she scaled the entryway. She landed, staff in hand, at the edge of the glacier’s mouth. 

Angered, but unwilling to call attention to Honeymaren’s whereabouts; Elsa lowered into a fighting stance before the exit. She could feel the heat channeling out of the tunnel. A low rumble coursed through Ahtohallan. It’s aggressive structure, once again, buckled beneath the flames.  

It was Cleyo who emerged first. She was floating over feet of fire. Her eyes glowed with powers, and the masked mages held fearlessly at her back. 

“The time has come to take your glacier down, and you with it! Listen to how she cries in the light of my flames!”

Elsa shook her head. “You’re wasting your energy! You saw yourself that Ahtohallan is a place for which nature can only speak through. It’s a totem and nothing more!” 

“A totem…” Cleyo sneered. “I will take everything of value from you, Elsa of Ahtohallan; starting with your own personal totem- your Northuldra female lover!”

“You mean me?”

Her entry rang loud. Honeymaren leapt from the glacier. Twisting mid air, her staff met Cleyo’s chest in a swift blow. She was sent reeling backward. The hilt of the spear caught against her collar, and something snapped. The amulet slipped beneath her cloak, clattering with a bounce onto the ice. It slid quickly out of reach, and the mages lunged for it. Honeymaren faced off in a low stance, daring them to even try. Elsa, then, had slid in at her side. 

Sneering, Cleyo raised her fingers. She snapped... yet nothing happened. 

Honeymaren flashed her a grin and laughed. “Ahtohallan had more to teach me than I might have believed… illusions only work on people who don’t know that they’re illusions!”

Cleyo growled. She leapt towards Honeymaren. Her hands enraged with flames. Cleyo’s anger peaked, and she launched forward in her attack.

A ball of ice knocked the energy from her palm, and Elsa stepped in; ready to battle. Unfortunately, Cleyo was all too eager to do the same. 

Honeymaren slid from Elsa’s back as their war began. Fire furied and ice ensued. She was sliding across the shore, bringing herself to halt at the water’s ledge. Honeymaren picked up the amulet and stashed it safely in the inner pocket of her tunic. 

Suddenly, and painfully, she was kicked back onto her rear. Honeymaren sank into a shallow incoming wave. Water soaked through her clothes. As she stood, a foot swung toward her cheek. Honeymaren ducked before impact, and swung her staff toward the leg. The sharp frozen edge sliced at the hem of a dark cloak. 

When she righted, Honeymaren found herself head-on against Cleyo’s two cohorts. They were mages by trade, but they had evidently been trained in the art of hand to hand combat. 

“A fight without magic; my specialty!” Honeymaren cheered, encouraging them to make their move. 

She swung her staff again. As the first mage dodged, the second was caught off guard. The staff pulled around in a full circle. Yet, it stopped briefly before connecting with their knees in the opposite direction. 

“You’re going to have to be quicker than that!” Honeymaren gloated. She jabbed fast, nailing the mage with a second hit. 

Back behind her, Cleyo and Elsa continued. Their defenses were nearly moot. Both fire and ice proved too opposite for either to hold the upperhand. It was all about landing the best shot. However, neither were having much luck with that either. They were dancing hand in hand with their powers; both waiting for the other to tire out. Each watched closely for their enemy to falter. Despite the fear that came with the thought, Elsa knew this might be a fight to the very end. 

Honeymaren struck the mages in unison. One was knocked onto their back, and their amulet unveiled from beneath their collar. Thinking fast, Honeymaren dug the tip of her spear into the earth. She flung herself at the mage still on their feet, and pushed off with her weight against the spear. She sailed through the air and Honeymaren’s legs braced into their chest. The mage was kicked back into the water, while Honeymaren landed knees to chest over their ally. 

She held the tip of her spear into the mage’s throat. Her second hand tore the amulet free. For good measure, Honeymaren stepped back onto the mage’s ankle. They cried out in pain, and Honeymaren knew she’d slowed their attack. 

“Two down, one to go.” She stashed the second amulet. 

Gale swooped low against Honeymaren’s feet. Her energy was buzzing, and heightened in Honeymaren’s proximity. 

“Better call in some backup here, Gale! Things are about to get ugly.”

Both mages were back on their feet. Like them, Honeymaren was wet and cold. The night would surround them soon. They’d be at risk of frostbite if this fight continued much longer. However, Honeymaren had more to lose than they did. She’d fight to the death if she had to. She’d do just about anything to keep Elsa and her sister safe. 

Honeymaren lowered before the mages. She could see the shiny gold chain peeking out beneath one of their collars. With a deep breath, Honeymaren lunged forward on her toes. As she did, a large wave curled in from overhead. 

The mages and Honeymaren were drenched with water. When her vision cleared from salt, Honeymaren found Nokk bowed before her. He was glaring; snarling at her. His teeth bore grit. 

“It’s not me!” Honeymaren promised with her hands raised. “It’s them! Elsa is with me!”

She could see Nokk dizzy with energy. He shook his head, clearing the fog, and turned to face the mages. Honeymaren seized the opportunity to dive for the amulet. She was filled with newfound adrenaline, and was ready to see her fight through to the end. 

The mages weren’t the only ones distracted. Cleyo’s attention pulled to the shore as Nokk turned on her coven. 

Given the chance she needed, Elsa pulled the ice higher amongst Cleyo’s feet. It curled in at the sides, creating a hollow arch. Cleyo was sent sliding toward the shore in a boat made from the glacier itself. She scrambled to leap out as Honeymaren knocked one of the mages in on top of her. She stepped back and held the third amulet proudly in her grasp. 

Beside her, Nokk swept the third mage into his mane. With a quick shake of his head, they were cast into air and carried into the boat by Gale’s wind. Their combined weight caused them to slide further down the embankment. Elsa watched the mages struggle as fire burst to life in Cleyo’s hands; threatening the boat. 

“Go!” Elsa breathlessly commanded. “Sail them to the east- as far as you can take them!”

Nokk did not wait for more. His legs curled upward in a powerful swell. The canoe sank into the wave, and was directed out to sea in Nokk’s own personal tide. 

The two women watched from shore as the canoe was taken further from Ahtohallan. With hearts racing and sweat thick against their back; they gasped for air. 

Yet before the mages were gone from sight, a beacon of fire bore through the night sky. There was one… and then another…

They were a flair for aide, but also a reminder that their war was far from over. 

  Cheers,

-M. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 37)

Azula is silent for a very long time before replying, “I think so.” She lays back down upon the mattress. Dr. Phang had been right, there is a disconnect. Her memories, though all accounted for, are unorganized and foreign. They haven’t been thought of in so long, it is like stretching a muscle after neglecting it entirely for months. That pressure behind her forehead only seems to intensify, growing into something a little more than a vague discomfort. 

“You look pale.” Sokka notes. She is well aware of his close proximity. She gives a small jerk when his hand touches her bicep. She feels rather unwell as her mind works right the turmoil within. 

“I can get you something to drink.” He offers. 

Azula nods. Her newly awakened memories still feel somehow distant, she supposes that this is why she isn’t yet feeling amiss about Sokka’s presence and kindness. Yet, it tingles in the back of her mind that something is wrong. 

.oOo.

When he gets back, the princess is sleeping on her side with her right arm wedged between her cheek and the pillow. The left is draped over her middle. He isn’t sure how that position is even remotely comfortable. 

He sets the drink down next to her untouched meal. He wonders if he should begin preparing himself for the end of their newly begun relationship. At the very least he decides that he should prepare for a decent struggle.

Sokka thinks of Zuko and hopes that he has taken the chance to get close enough to Azula for her to reconsider letting past animosity take over. On a normal night, he would lay himself down next to the firebender. On this one, he keep his distance. 

She doesn’t seem to be sleeping fitfully, so he makes his way down the hall to update Zuko on her condition. 

.oOo.

The conflict in her mind grows as her memories solidify. In the passing days the fog of dissociation seems to dissipate, leaving her with a very clear concoction of emotions. Among them is embarrassment; a feeling that she has betrayed herself in getting so close to the Tribesman. In letting bygones be bygones. And yet she can’t quite imagine herself grow lonely again. 

But Mai and TyLee...what is to stop them from deciding that they no longer want to speak with her now that she is whole again? She’d only barely managed to get Katara to start trusting her…

She occupies her time with distractions. Mostly she resumes her firebending regimen and with a much fuller library of stances, techniques, and katas. It is more than time consuming enough to disappear for hours and without anyone asking much. As far as they are concerned, she has just regained full access to her bending abilities and is trying to make the most of it. 

Really, she is avoiding things. And she can’t say that she doesn’t feel at least a little ashamed of it. She has never been one to dodge things that required confrontation. But most of those things have dealt with the physical. 

It is another two days before Sokka sees through her antics. The man makes a point of announcing his entry. The fire dies in her palm and she snaps around to face him. “When I’m training, don’t interrupt.” 

“Funny, you’re always training lately.” He comments. “That doesn’t leave a lot of room for talking.”

“That’s correct.” She confirms as she drops back into the stance she had been. 

.oOo.

“If you don’t want to talk then you can at least say it.” He pushes. Her stance grows tighter and he winces, stomach constricting with fear. He hasn’t felt true fear around her in a very long while. He gets a feeling that he should be so brazen and forthcoming with her now that she has her memories back.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Azula replies after a minute or so, she remains with her back turned to him. 

It is like a slap in the face, one that he had been ready for. One where he saw the hand lift but didn’t do anything to dodge. And it stings with an unimaginable intensity. Sokka had been more than prepared for her to reject him. His mind wanders back to the swamp, to the hateful and menacing apparition. The one that stands in front of him right now. 

He train of thought carries him to the conversation that night, where they’d both insisted that her new memories would account for so much more than the old and it hurts twice over. 

It seems as though hope hasn’t paid off this time. He bunches his fists. Yue had died, Suki had finally admitted that she had grown distant because loved women, and Azula…

Perhaps he should just accept life as a lonewolf. 

“Why are you still here?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I guess I was just hoping that…” 

“That you’d change your mind and talk to me.” 

“Then you’re wasting your time.”

This tinges his vision red so suddenly that he is almost dizzy. He had crossed a tundra in a raging blizzard, trekked through it a second time, spent the night in an uncomfortable compound dealing with her moods, and paraded around a swamp with here. “I’ve already wasted time on you! What’s a few more minutes!?” He snaps. He thinks that she might have flinched, but then he could be seeing what he wants to see. His hand comes to the burn on his chest, it seems to tingle. He’d let that slide too, hadn’t he. “You used me.” He accuses. 

She rolls her eyes. “This surprises you?” 

His mouth falls agape, he closes it and opens it several times, but he doesn’t think anything he says will be able to encompass and express just how severely livid he is. How utterly flabbergasted and thrown aback. How betrayed…

He clenches his fists tighter and storms out of the room. 

.oOo.

The dread she feels is cold. Surely he will scamper off to his friends and she will be back to where she started. He wishes that he would have just let her come to him. She is almost certain that she would have once she had a chance to sort things out with herself. 

Instead he had done what he always has, pestered and probed until it brought razors to her tongue. Perhaps, a few days ago he could have talked her down or guilted her into admitting that she was just...confused. 

But her newly reawakened pride wouldn’t accept even the smallest slight and prioritized having the last word over any real discussion.

Azula supposes that she could hustle after him and tell him that she simply hadn’t been ready for a discussion yet, that was all. But she refuses to demean herself in that way so she runs through a few more katas and heads back to her room. 

She sees him in the hall, he is just out of earshot but his posture and gestures as he speaks with Katara suggest anger and outrage. She slips into her room opting out of dinner that night. Nevermind defending herself, he’d already begun speaking ill of her. 

Once again she is alone and without allies. 

This time she has Long Feng, and whatever team he may or may not still have, to face. Her head pounds furiously and she rubs her temples. She has managed alone before...and yet he had managed to take her before…

She lays in bed staring at the ceiling. Decidedly she should have gone with her first instinct, to not retrieve her lost memories. And yet, not having them was driving her mad. At least then she had support, that is more than she can say now. 

Azula thinks back to the fight she’d had with Sokka on their way from the tundra to the Fire Nation. It had gone very much the same. She’d simply assumed that things were unsalvageable only to find them resolved, even if the progress was slow. 

But that was different. That was when she wasn’t her. That was when he had faith that she would turn around. 

She bunches herself up.

At least these thoughts keep her mind out of that facility for the time.