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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

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Maca Root - (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): By the time you heard keys in the door, you were already in your pajamas. He came in, clearly uncomfortable. “Shit you made dinner f’r us?! God you’re amazing baby” he wraps you in a hug. He smelt lightly like grease and sweat, but it was a smell you’d never dislike. It was distinctly Bear. Your Bear. “I did, you deserve somethin’ hot hm? How was your day?” You asked softly and kissed his jaw, and down his neck, before rubbing over his chest lightly and getting on your knees to unlace his sneakers to which he sighed gratefully, as his back was killing him after scrubbing the floors for over an hour.

♡ Chapter Inspo: Maca Root is considered a sacred feminine master plant in Peru and is involved in spiritual ceremonies for those wanting to unlock, release, heal, and bring harmony back to the body.

♡ Summary: You cook for Carmy for a change so he has a real dinner for once, & he thanks you with his mouth. Oh! And he tells you he wants to make things official.

♡ W/C: 3,330

♡ Posted Date: 05/10/2024

♡ A/N: Hello! I am literally SO dead I watched the eras tour live stream from Tess on TikTok- SHE PUT IN TTPD!! AAA! Anyway HAHA I had to talk abt. it because i'm literally dead, the whole set is FABULOSO!!! Anywhore - I am so happy with the love Vervain is getting omg! Thank you so much again @carmenberzattosgf for the lovely inspiring ask ILY forever! This one-shot is based on this ask ♡ here ♡ thank you so much oh lovely anon! I hope you like this, please send me an ask any time! As always requests are open everyone! Please enjoy :) *Smooches*

♡ Warnings for BTC: !UNEDITED! (We die like men!), NO Use of Y/N, Fem!Reader (Described AFAB), NO use of physical descriptors (Fem!Black!Reader friendly!), Use of pet names, Smut!, F&M oral giving & receiving, fingering.

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞! ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You quietly unlocked up Carmys apartment door, seeing as it was 11:00 and he still wasn’t home. You sighed deeply to yourself, slightly annoyed but slightly having expected this. So you go ahead and clean up the empty water bottles and redbull cans, vacuuming and putting his dirty jeans and tshirts in his washing machine for him and starting a load.

You even found some spaghetti and sauce in the cabinet, starting a pot on the stove knowing he was never later then 12:15, and he always ate when he got home since family service was at 3:00 and 9 hours on his feet rushing around a kitchen absolutely built up quite the appetite.

You stripped his bed and put on fresh sheets for the two of you just in time to strain the pasta, and queue up one of his favorite YouTube cooking channels newest videos. You weren’t sure how he understood anything going on given as they were speaking Russian- but he likes what he likes.

By the time you heard keys in the door, you were already in your pajamas. He came in, clearly uncomfortable. “Shit you made dinner f’r us?! God you’re amazing baby” he wraps you in a hug. He smelt lightly like grease and sweat, but it was a smell you’d never dislike. It was distinctly Bear. Your Bear.

“I did, you deserve somethin’ hot hm? How was your day?” You asked softly and kissed his jaw, and down his neck, before rubbing over his chest lightly and getting on your knees to unlace his sneakers to which he sighed gratefully, as his back was killing him after scrubbing the floors for over an hour.

“Y’re a fuckin angel- I don’t deserve that baby” he tells you this every night, but every night you continue to do it, because he does.

“Come sit bear” you drag him to the couch, gently tugging off his sneakers when he sits and he groans, resting his sore feet on the coffee table

“Oh shit- this is new?” He asked as he saw the tv, grabbing the controller and hitting play on the video of some Russian woman making soup.

“Mmhmm- here baby” you made up his plate and brought it to him with a fork and napkin to see he was already slumping down on the couch with his arms crossed and eyes hooded half asleep, he was exhausted. “Bear-“ you said gently and he woke up quickly, sitting up.

“Wow- thank you sweetheart, fuck this is so nice. I’m so hungry thank you honey” he took the plate and kissed you tenderly. “Wait- fuckin hell princess did you clean? Don’ be doin’ that I told you honey thas’ my job” he told you, twirling a good amount of pasta on his fork and taking a bite

“I did clean because there were empty redbull cans everywhere. And you deserve a clean place to hang out when you aren’t working mm?” You kiss the top of his head before heading back to the kitchen and putting away the rest of the pasta, then washing the dishes.

“Baaaaaabe!” He groans in annoyance when he heard the sink cut on and you washing the dishes you used to make dinner “stop! I can do those ‘fore work” he mumbled through a mouth of spaghetti and you giggle

“Ah yes at 2:00? In 3 hours? When I can just do them now?” You teased “id rather have the extra 5 minutes in bed with you” you told him and he blushed, finishing his food as you finished up the dishes and going to sit back on the couch

“Aht!” You tut “bathroom stinky garlic breath then bed.” You told him and he huffed, having been caught.

“C’mon m’tired babygirl come sit w’me” he said and gave you a pout, tugging your hips. You caught yourself on the back of the couch, hovering over him and refusing to give in and straddle his hips, knowing if you did he’d just roll over, lay down, and fall asleep immediately.

“Carmen” you said softly and he scrunched his nose at the use of his full name.

“Don’ call me that” he mumbled, hugging your torso and nuzzling his face in your belly, sighing tiredly.

“Carmen Anthony” you said in response and you laughed at the dramatic groan that came out of him, like a toddler being scolded. “It’s that time my dear, for you to go brush your teeth. Then you can come to bed and I’ll rub your back” you said and his head shot up

“Really?” He questioned hopefully and you giggle.

“Really truly. Get in that bathroom” you ruffle his hair and shut off the tv before heading to the bedroom. He came in a few minutes later, stripping down to his boxers and laying stomach down.

“Been thinkin’ “ he mumbled as you warm up the lotion in your hands.

“Yeah? What about sweetheart?” You gently rub his tight shoulders and he moaned softly at the contact, letting out one of his tired bear sighs as you called them. Just a long, breathy sigh that ended with a little grumble like an old man how bears did in nature documentaries when settling in for the night.

“ ‘bout us” he said and you smiled a bit, continuing to massage his shoulders and back.

“About us huh? What about us love” you counter. You and Carmy had been seeing eachother for about 4 months now, you’d only really been to the restaurant after closing when everyone has already went home but you had gone once for your sisters birthday - of course you told her you knew a great spot when she asked for recommendations. When he saw your name on the reservation list that night, he thought he was surely hallucinating.

When it was finally your reservation time, he went over to the window and looked over his restaurant. Sure enough, you were sitting there. It took everything in him to not go out there - you looked stunning. He wanted to tell you that, he wanted to get a closer look at what you were wearing. He always loved your outfits because you were into vintage fashion just like he was, one of your favorite dates was to get coffee together and then go thrifting.

But he didn’t, because he wasn’t sure you wanted anyone to know you were dating, but he did make sure to let Richie know to comp the table. He was confused as all hell, even more so when he asked ‘why’ and Carmen snapped at him -

‘I dunno cause it says it’s a fuckin birthday table on the reservation and I’m fuckin’ feelin’ nice? So just comp the table and get off my back, cousin.’

Because he hadn’t ever known another time where Carmy was ‘feeling nice’ before, but nonetheless he did as he was told per usual. Your sister was over the moon excited, gushing about what a great review she would leave and how nice it is they gave a random patron a birthday meal.

You weren’t sure if Carmy was okay with you telling people you were dating - so you agreed and just said it was awesome, pretending that same night the man who had made the meal wasn’t fucking you against his shower wall the night prior.

When he saw you that night, and asked why you never said anything - you told him you didn’t wanna be a bother or make him feel you were owed ‘special treatment’, he told you firmly you were never a bother, and that any time you want to come in to let him know because he’d make sure to get you the best spot in the house and of course you’d never pay him to eat there.

When you asked why he looked at you like you had 3 heads before telling you “cus’ you’re you, it’s my restaurant, and in my restaurant, you don’t pay- got it?” that was the end of the conversation.

“About…I dunno- y’my girl…but I’ve never really told anyone other then you before.” He said and your heart flutters.

His girl.

He’d never said that before - put a claim on you. You’re his girl, now. Not just a girl he’s seeing, not just a ‘friend’ which had been the running name you’d both used to describe your relationship, even though there was always a beat of awkward silence after the word came out of either of your mouths.

“I’m your girl” you repeat and he sits up on his forearm and looks at you

“You seein other people?” He asked seriously.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No Carmy. You have been the only person for…” you stopped, not wanting to embarrass yourself. You had known you wanted something serious with him from the start but were too embarrassed to admit it. “Some time now. So - yes. What about this do you want people to know?” You asked

“I wanna tell people about you…about us - that we’re- y’know..goin’ steady..is that alright?”

You nodded, a big smile forming on your lips. “Yes. Yes- tell anyone you want to. Can I too?” You asked

In response he turned on his side, pulling you to him and kissing you deeply. His tongue swiped along your lower lip, nose nudging the side of yours gently. You opened your mouth for him, tasting toothpaste and mouthwash on his tongue, you hum softly as you felt his hot breath fan your upper lip in a satisfied huff when your hand found his curls, gently massaging the back of his neck.

His calloused hand finds your lower back, pushing up his white shirt that you’d stolen from his hamper that smelt so distinctly of him you couldn’t help but wear it so when he left you too early in the morning it still felt as if he was with you. He loved seeing you wear his clothes, it drove him insane thinking about you, in his apartment, sleeping in his bed, wearing his shirt. It took up a lot more mental space in the mornings then he’d care to admit.

He rolled the lace hem of your faded patterned strawberry panties that Carmy adored. Even though you were getting warm from all the excitement, goosebumps still appeared on your skin from his gentle caress over your stomach before dipping his fingers in the fabric. You, without even needing to think about it, lifted your thigh for him and he cupped your heat for a moment with his hand, squeezing you with a light pressure.

You whined into his mouth, slack jawed from the contact, and you were no longer kissing eachother but more like breathing into eachothers mouths with the sucking of tongue and lips from Carmy. He spread you out with his forefinger as well as his ring finger, a wet click sound following the action. He dipped his middle finger over your dripping hole and you shiver, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

He kissed down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck as he teased your entrance with the pad of his finger. You were a pathetic whimpering mess beneath him already, his hands always made you this way. “Please” you whimper and he kissed your jaw as his finger trailed over your exposed clit from having you spread so well with his fingers, even the gentle movement causing your hips to jerk and a cry to leave your throat

“Mmm always so sensitive f’me” he said, gathering more of the wetness from your pussy that was beginning to drip down the curve of your ass and gush with his movements. You gasp as he slathers that wetness over your bud, before easily rubbing his finger back and forth over it as he sucked a bruise into your collarbone.

Your hips rut into his hand, strings of curses mixed between saying his name until he sticks that middle finger inside with no resistance due to how wet you were, upon entrance his finger made a schlick noise as you were essentially sucking him in, like your pussy itself was begging how you were. “Christ” he muttered into your skin, pumping his finger in and out slowly, curling it every so often in search of that spot.

“Please please- another one” you begged and he adds his ring finger, curling them up together and you nearly sob your knees coming together subconsciously

“Open ‘em baby, c’mon lemme make you cum yeah?” He used his other hand to ease your legs apart to realize your thighs were quivering. “Y’bein such a good girl right now lettin me play w’you.” He said hotly in your ear, rubbing over your shaking thigh sweetly as he curled his fingers into the same spot, pressing with increasing pressure and with his palm, massaging your clit.

Your back arched off the bed, grabbing his forearm with one hand and the sheets with the other, gripping them both tightly and your walls flutter around him. “That’s it. Go ahead pretty girl. My pretty girl” he kissed your forehead gently, and the tender gesture mixed with being called his was enough to throw you into an orgasm that had you seeing stars behind your lids as you cry out his name.

Seeing you this way was his favorite part of the day, and it was so good that he sacrificed at least half an hour of his 5 dedicated to sleeping for it. So good, in fact, that seeing you squirm and writhe, mixed with you sobbing out his name and rambling about how only he has ever made you feel so good, and that you wished you could have him all the time - and his now sticky fingers he was able to palm his cock a few times, before sucking the slick off his fingers - the combination of all of that made him cum in his boxers like a teenager.

You hear him whimper at the tail end of your orgasm and you open your eyes to see him gripping his cock with creamy wet boxers, sucking on his fingers so much there was drool dripping down his chin. You couldn’t help but drop your jaw at how hot the sight was, the way his abs clench and unclench, the way his stomach tightens and releases as the waves of his climax crash over him. He was beautiful.

It wasn’t like you could help yourself. You sat up a bit and got on your knees, he didn’t notice because he was still in the thick of it - and straddled his calf. Now he noticed. “What are you-“ he’s interrupted by your nose in the crook of his thigh and his cock, breathing in the salty heady scent of his cum before taking the fabric in your mouth and sucking, looking up at him with big doe eyes through your lashes.

“Oh my god” his eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head, his jaw dropping at the sight before him. “You are gonna fuckin’ kill me” he said and you smiled a bit as you suck down the sweet salty flavor. His cock jumped at the action and you pulled the fabric up between your teeth, tugging down and his cock flopped out onto his stomach, half hard from your antics.

“Can I help you clean up?” You asked sweetly and he bit back a whimper at such an innocent voice being used to ask such a filthy question.

“Uh-“ he swallowed thickly, looking at your chin that was glistening with the sticky cum from his boxers “If- if I can clean you up after” he countered and you nod.

“Sounds like a deal” you said and gently took him in your dominant hand, licking a stripe from base to tip enjoying the way he twitched under your tongue. He bit his lip, sucking a breath through his teeth at the sensitivity so you eased up on the pressure of your tongue when you got to his tip, humming softly when it spurts out a little glob of pre, almost in thanks.

“Wow- you can go again? Already?” You asked amazedly and he shook his head quickly

“Fuck no - hell fuckin’ no, this’ as hard as ‘m’gettin’ it would hurt t’go like this“ he said and you pout a bit.

“Darn, would’ve been fun” you said and resumed rubbing your tongue over his length that was jumping and twitching at your stimulation. “Feels good though right?” You ask and he hums, in a way that almost sounded like a whimper but he clears his throat to cover it

“Mmhmm- feels- feels really good” he said and you smile, rubbing your lips over his vein that ran on the side, dipping your tongue between your lips to feel the girth of it. After a few more minutes of sucking and licking, and a few flicks of your tongue - he gently pats your head “think ‘m clean” he said a bit breathlessly and you looked up at him.

“You sure? I don’t wanna miss any spots” you joked and he chuckled

“I’m sure. And I want my turn now” he said and you wipe your drooly mouth on his hip and giggle before laying down and peeling off your soaked panties, thankful they were coming off because they were becoming uncomfortable - and chucking them who knows where.

“Ah, thanks f’usin me as a napkin very kind” he jokes and fixed his boxers before laying on his stomach in front of you, putting a thigh on each shoulder and essentially hugging your hips, supporting himself with his elbows and going to work right away.

He kissed over your thighs, up your wet sensitive lips to your mound, placing a gentle kiss there as well and gently nibbling on the pad of fat there. “I fuckin love this” he said, sucking on the mound of flesh. You giggled a bit, crossing your ankles together and watching him as he gazes up at you intently.

“You’re nibbling on me like a dog” you gently rub over his hair and scratch his scalp to which he hums in appreciation and licks you over, swirling his tongue over your clit and flicking it. You shivered at the action, thighs cupping his face and he pulled away a bit

“Please don’t make my ears pop” he chuckled, his hot breath ghosting over your heat in a way that made your toes curl.

“Sorry - sorry baby” you loosened your grip and pet his hair gently as he continued to devour your folds, slurping and sucking and lapping up all the wetness you had to offer. You moaned and whimpered, watching him as he dragged his tongue back and forth over your clit, resting his palm face up on your belly. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together over your abdomen.

“You’re so pretty Carmy” you praise, your other hand playing with his now sweaty curls from everything going on “such pretty eyes” you said softly and he hums gently, nuzzling your clit with his nose as he fucks you with his tongue, lapping up your walls from the inside as well. Your belly tightens, hips arching slightly off the bed “fuck baby I’m close” you told him and his eyes flutter shut in bliss, kissing your clit gently before sucking on it.

Your orgasm washed over you like a gentle, warm wave washing you out to sea. You hummed happily as your thighs shook, core clenching and fluttering around his tongue as he worked you through it, stroking your thigh gently. “So good- always so good bear” you said tiredly and kiss his hand. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he licked a stripe up your core to finish you off, before kissing your thigh sweetly.

You then felt him wipe his soaking wet chin and mouth on the inside of your thigh, and your eyes flicker back open to see him smirking teasingly. “What? S’just payback!”

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prickly-paprikash · 9 months ago

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Since the discourse has reared its ugly head once more, the simple answer is no.

Aang was not a deadbeat, unsupportive, absentee father.

He loved all three of his children and was supportive of them. When Kya came out in the comics, she mentioned straight up that Aang was nothing but supportive of her and who she was. Aang made mistakes in parenting, but he was also stuck in one of the worst situations possible for him.

For one thing, it's been stated that Airbending culture has different views when it comes to family dynamics. Never once does Aang mention his parents, and it's clear that Air Nomads did not put emphasis on the standard nuclear family organization that other nations did. From context clues alone, and many have inferred in the past that Air Nomads were communal, so it stands to reason that their parenting was communal. Monks, Nuns, Masters—all of them were most likely parents to every single child. The responsibility of raising and educating a child was shared amongst the nomads, and that there was no real difference between biological and adoptive parents. Airbenders shared nearly everything, and that meant family as well.

Imagine you're Aang, spending twelve years of life being raised by every adult in the temple. Sure, he was exposed to nuclear family dynamics when visiting other nations and befriending Bumi and Kuzon, but his exposure to their culture was most likely limited. Now, not only is he a father to three beautiful children, but he must raise them in a way foreign to him. There are no other Monks to raise his children—it's just him and Katara. I've no doubt that Sokka and Toph chipped in whenever they could to ease the burden of parenthood, but they were leaders and figures of great importance as well. Not to mention that Toph had her own daughters to take care of.

Aang is also the Avatar, the central spiritual figure amongst the four nations. His presence would always be demanded in other nations. Peace Summits. Negotiations. Ceremony. Dealing with splintered Fire Nation cells and loyalists. Aang had to lead the people of all four nations back into balance, and he was in the unique and unenviable position to heal the scars of a 100 year war due to the absence of the Avatar.

Finally, the dude is also the Very Last Airbender. Of course he'd show favoritism to Tenzin. Bumi was a non-bender and Kya was a waterbender already taking after her mother. Aang was a war hero, a political figure, a man out of time and history, the Avatar, and the Only Living Airbender. The weight of his culture and people all rested on his shoulders, and so he passed on that responsibility and hope to the only other living Airbender at the time. Aang needed to spend time with Tenzin because only through Tenzin could the practices of the Air Nomads survive.

Aang was basically having to transition from a communal family mindset to a nuclear family's; he had to balance romance, fatherhood, and being the Avatar in a Wartorn World; and he had an obligation to every Airbender in history—millions of souls and their memories, passed on from one very flawed father to his newborn son. Every part of Aang's life as a father was met with trials and tribulations, and his family still came out loving him, albeit with some resentment underneath.

No parent is perfect, and Aang could have done so much better when it came to communicating with his children.

But none of his mistakes ever meant he was an abusive, cold, distant father.

He was overworked, acclimating to a style of family not his own, and desperately reviving a century-long dead culture all by himself. The fact that every single one of his kids still loved him and cherished him only solidified the fact that Aang was a father who did his very best.

Being the child of the Avatar would always mean living in his shadow. That resentment, of Aang being needed by the world while his children sought him out, would always be there. Doubly so for Tenzin, who grew up with the Avatar as his father and continued his life-long work of breathing life back into the Air Nomads. Say what you will, but at least Bumi and Kya had the freedom to choose who they wanted to be. Tenzin, no matter what, would always grow up to be the Airbending Master because no one else could.

Aang loved his children. Aang loved his wife. And they in turn loved him. But just like every family, complications rose up and planted the seeds of bitterness and resentment. The only thing that stopped these from blossoming into actual dislike of their family was that Aang's love and respect for his children was always genuine, and that Katara stood firm in making sure their children knew they were beloved.

Aang and Katara's family would never have been ideal in the first place, but they did their best.

And their best was certainly enough.

#avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #bumi ii #kya ii #bumi #kya #tenzin #avatar meta #paprikash ramblings #sokka #toph beifong

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simsdaughters · 2 months ago

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GOTH LEGACY CHALLENGE

Making this for myself and any of you guys who wanna tag along to this little experiment with me!

The goal of this challenge is simple: get to 10 generations, with each one representing a different goth subculture and fashion, starting with the Goth family. I hope that through this, you guys can see the love I have for the goth culture :)

For extra drama: none of the Goths of the main family line may die of old age.

RULES PER GENERATION BELOW:

GEN 1: Aristocrat Goth

The founders of the Goth legacy, their aristocratic air lends credence to their importance. Drawing from historical periods such as the Victorian and Edwardian eras, this subgenre of goth fashion features tailor suits, cravats, waistcoats, corsets and hats.

Master the piano and violin skills.

Reach 500,000 simoleons in savings.

Master the business career.

Make enemies with at least one Landgraab.

GEN 2: Witchy Goth

Drawing inspiration from their parents' lifestyle and beliefs, Cassandra and Alexander adopt a more spiritual approach to the goth aesthetic. This fashion subgenre is characterized by esoteric and spiritual elements in the outfit, such as moons, stars, skulls and maybe black cats if you want to be on the nose with it, while the cultural approach to it is inspired mainly by, of course, witchcraft.

Become a spellcaster.

Master the medium skill.

Learn all potions.

Reach lvl 5 in the gemology skill.

GEN 3: Traditional Goth

The "original" goths, who find their roots in gothic rock born in the post-punk era, the traditional goths are what you first think of when you hear the word goth: ripped, black clothes, dark makeup and wild hair. As a punk offshoot, traditional goths prioritize self-expression, individuality and challenging traditions.

Join any artistic career, and reach lvl 5 in it.

Master the guitar skill.

Volunteer at least once a week.

Befriend any occult.

GEN 4: NU Goth

A slightly controversial subgenre in the goth culture, NU or "new" goth is a more modern approach to the goth genre. More lenient in their view of what "makes" a goth, they are known to be more welcoming to mall goths and baby bats than trad goths (though that does not mean traditional goths are hostile to the two, simply that there is a prominent debate in the goth scene on what consists "a true goth"). This fashion type is what you'd probably find on pinterest or tiktok, with the more current fashion trends influencing the style.

Sell at least 5 thrifted outfits.

Join the social media career.

Film fashion tutorials at least once a week. (Get Famous)

Have at least 500 followers on any social media.

GEN 5: Cyber Goth

The cybergoth subculture and fashion mixes industrial, 2000s and rave aesthetics in one, featuring leather, neon colors, futuristic looks and a love for electronic music. They embrace philosophical discussions and imaginations of a dystopic information society future.

Master the DJing skill.

Reach lvl 5 in the dancing skill.

Go clubbing at least once a week.

Master the programming or robotics skill.

GEN 6: Pastel Goth

Mixing the kawaii aesthetic with gothic ideals and themes, pastel goth makes it's mark by ... well, being pastel. Often seen dipping into lolita or fairy kei fashion, this style can accessorize with sometimes cutesy details. This style is more focused on the fashion and aesthetics of the gothic look rather than the music, and on having fun with their self-expression.

Have an all-pastel home !

Join the Style Influencer career.

Make 5 friends.

Thrift clothes at least once.

GEN 7: Romantic Goth

As expected, romantic goth subculture focuses on romanticizing death, the macabre and the dark. They find beauty and appreciation in things like withered roses, skulls and more. Their fashion is characterized by flowy, ethereal silhouettes, and a feminine touch to their outfits. Its the embrace of beauty.

Have a gothic wedding ceremony.

Master the writing skill.

Have a cemetery.

Romance a vampire at least once.

GEN 8: White Goth

The white goths reverse the traditionally dark and ... well, black palette of the gothic genre for white, and other such colors you shouldn't wear at a wedding. Their clothing taste often includes silks, ethereal garments, ornate jewelry and parasols.

Master the organ skill.

Master the painting skill.

Serenade someone at least once.

Wear white at a wedding.

GEN 9: Victorian Goth

The Victorian Goth subculture pays homage to the elegance and refinement of the 19th century. Their fashion sense borrows from the Victorian era, with silhouettes evocative of the era, top hats, lace and corsets. They mix the aesthetic of a bygone era with the ideologies of all goths, that of individualism and self-expression through art and fashion.

Do not own any electronics, lights included.

Master the writing skill.

Own at least one horse, and travel to lots with it.

Paint at least 20 paintings.

GEN 10: Vampire Goth

Inspired by vampire lore and horror, the vampire goth fashion scene includes elegant, intricate designs, corsets, capes, vampire fangs (real or otherwise) and bloody, macabre themes. Like the romantic goths, they find beauty and allure in the dead and the deadly, and would probably love owning a fainting couch.

Master the charisma skill.

Master the vampire lore skill.

Turn at least 5 sims into vampires.

Become a Master Vampire.

#What I'll be doing for the halloween season!#goth family legacy challenge #goth family legacy challenge rules #simblr #sims 4 #ts4 #out of story

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kataraslove · 3 months ago

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how do you feel about people saying Katara post the show was just a “house wife” and a “baby maker”? I personally think it’s super stupid and fucked up��while I do understand the criticisms for the comics ESPECIALLY the promise. TLOK criticisms for her character are pretty damn dumb to me…honestly the only thing I can get is the critical for her not being at Jinoras ceremony.

something that the original show does really well is present the dichotomy of katara; she's hot-headed, stubborn, determined, argumentative, protective, a fighter and a warrior. at the same time, however, she's presented as compassionate, kind, caring, nurturing, a healer. atla does an incredible job to avoid caging katara into one facet, unlike other media that tend to restrict their female characters who present feminine personalities into the group's resident healer/mother teresa figure. fighting and healing are core tenets of her identity. she uses both of these aspects of her identity to win the war, to save the lives of her friends and family, and most importantly, connect to and honour her decimated culture.

i don't think tlok makes an attempt to capture the fighter aspect of her identify, hence where the argument that "she was reduced to a healer" comes from. yes, she's incredibly old. yes, she deserves to rest after a lifetime of fighting. however, you could make the argument that toph and zuko are still in active combat mode during their old years. it's an all or nothing scenario; either everyone in the remaining gaang deserves a fight scene or no one gets one. so i can see where that criticism stems from. however, much of the criticism also stems from the fandom's refusal to correlate power with healing; to see how being a healer is an honour in it's own right, especially in the atla world where it's the equivalent to being a doctor (and katara would be the most renowned doctor there is).

katara does not deserve a shoe-horned fight scene where she's going to be tossed down in the snow five seconds later (like zuko) or where she's going to complain about her back problems (like toph). i can go on and on about how toph’s depiction in tlok is another form of sexist writing, but i think this post highlights it perfectly well and captures everything that i wanted to say.

if it were up to me to write tlok katara, i would:

have spent more time exploring her role in the white lotus. how much input did she have on korra’s training during the south, because i doubt caging her up until she’s 17 and delaying her spiritual journey is something that katara necessarily would have agreed with. i imagine that she would have (should have, at least) a lot of sway in the decisions surrounding korra as a world leader and legendary hero [per avatar legends]. if not that, even as korra’s waterbending master, the companion and spouse of the previous avatar, and the mother of the only airbending master in the world, would be enough to earn her decision-making title.

actually have her take part in the council of elders, especially during the civil war in book 2. no bryan konientzko, a tumblr post explaining that you can see her on the council of elders while your show is airing isn’t enough. we should have gotten katara’s perspective on the independence war currently happening with her tribe. particularly, it would have been an excellent opportunity showcasing her leadership abilities that we saw in imprisoned and the painted lady, encouraging her tribe to fight for their justice and independence.

expand upon her relationships with her children and grandchildren. yes, the legend of korra isn’t about katara or any of the former gaang members. but jinora, tenzin, kya, and bumi are all important characters that should be defined by their respective relationships with katara, much like how they’re defined by their relationships with aang. bryan and mike shy away from featuring former members of the gaang to avoid nostalgia bait, but there comes a point when deliberately avoiding the presence that your original characters play on their successors ends up hindering the success of your show. i think katara should be a critical character in the subplot between her and aang’s children, providing her perspectives on her husband’s parenting and relationships with their children.

have her actually leave the southern water tribe. if toph can leave the swamp to stop kuvira, and zuko can leave the fire nation to stop the red lotus, then why was katara constantly portrayed in the southern water tribe? there was an excellent opportunity to have her attend her granddaughter’s air mastering ceremony. i actually disagree with claims that the writers were avoiding having katara and zuko in the same scene specifically because of zutara; i think they didn’t want any of the former gaang in the same place. hence why we don’t ever have zuko and toph meet, or katara and toph (i know toph mentions katara by name, but i truly believe that that was a throwaway line serving as a substitute to appease the audience’s thirst for old gaang interaction. kind of like a, “here you go!! toph mentions her. now shut the fuck up.”)

give her a statue representing her bravery, courage, and determination. this one’s self-explanatory.

she didn’t need to be present at the bloodbending trial if the focus was for the avatar to take away yakone’s bending (and her being a bloodbender, i mean.. there’s NO WAY for anyone else to suspend yakone if she’s there). but i do believe the show should have mentioned something about katara not being able to there last-minute, due to tensions in the south or whatever, and how they cannot delay yakone’s trial even by one week.

i disagree with criticisms that katara became a “baby-making machine” for the air nomads. there’s no substantial support that katara and aang had children solely to repopulate the air nomads. there’s contrary evidence, in fact:

tenzin was the only airbender. if katara’s purpose was to serve simply as a baby maker, aang would have tried to have more children. from a writing standpoint, i think the narrative would have gone out of its way to portray kataang’s family as only having airbenders, or having more airbenders than non-benders or waterbenders.

we would have seen a lot more children in a relatively short time period. bumi, kya, and tenzin have sporadic age gaps, indicating that their conception wasn’t really at an urgent pace, but something that katara and aang took their time with, due to life events and circumstances.

as for whether the show turned katara into a “baby-maker,” by highlighting her family relations over her career prospects, i disagree. i don’t think we’re shown anything about katara in the legend of korra; i think we’re presented with limited information about her on all aspects. from a family perspective, all we know is that she had three children with aang. the narrative goes one step further to even separate her from the family conflict, such that the cloudbabies do not pull her into their grievances with their father and childhoods. kya and bumi’s overall arcs are about embracing their father’s legacy, while tenzin’s arc is about moving away from his shadow. from a career perspective, we know that katara at some point banned bloodbending, became one of the best waterbenders and the greatest healer in the world, then trained korra. in fact, katara’s relationship that is given the most narrative weight is her relationship with korra. i can understand if people’s criticisms are her being reduced to korra’s mentor and a healer, but i will not be able to understand the baby-maker or housewife claims simply because there is no proof.

if we’re examining tlok katara, i think there are many criticisms to be held, many missed opportunities and abandoned threads, but i do not agree with fandom extremes that she was ever presented as a “baby-making housewife turned healer.” i disagree with claims that tlok emphasized katara’s legacy as only having children (particularly her one airbender child). especially because tlok goes out of its way to separate her role in her children’s life, instead emphasizing her role in korra’s life. narratively, we get more exploration of toph’s storyline with her children than we get with katara.

as for the shitty gene yang comics that mischaracterizes just about every member, even momo and appa, i’ve got much to say on that. i think the only comic worth exploring is north and south, and katara’s portrayal in that. rather, there’s a particular criticism of katara’s portrayal in north and south that i want to rebut.

#katara #atla #avatar the last airbender #my meta #my asks #lok critical

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star-girl69 · 1 year ago

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Hollow Bones

Natalie Scatorccio x Lottie Matthews x Fem!Reader

—-

sypnosis: The Antler Queen and her Prophet take notice of the lonely Yellowjacket in the corner.

a/n: au where coach ben didn’t burn down the cabin bc i’m not dealing with that ❤️ i hope you all enjoy!!

also i think i’m gonna do a part two of this but ENJOY THE YEARNING!!!!!!

warnings: cannibalism, swearing, mentions of hypothermia and death, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

To you, the wilderness has become a sort of home. If you forgot about the startling cold, the blinding hunger, and the rolling fear in your stomach- it was a peaceful place.

Especially in the summer, when you could sit outside and hear the leaves rustle with the scurrying of chipmunks and squirrels and know that food was at arms length. You think about that summer a lot now.

You think about the sun while you sit in the corner of the cabin, watching the other girls hug each other and laugh for warmth.

You think about the food when you’re patiently waiting in line for your scrap of meat. And while you ate the feast in front of you that was once a living breathing girl.

It’s not surprising that someone built a cabin out here. It’s quiet, besides for the wind and your breath.

It’s cold out here, even the wood of the porch you sit on, your converse digging into the deep snow in front of you, listening to your breath and the wind. You never attended one of Lottie’s ceremonies, feeling a little awkward every time you thought about it. But the sentiment was calming.

You had only joined soccer when you were little because your mom forced you. You faked sick to try and get out of it, but your mother thought your shyness was only something to break. And once everyone figured out you had a natural talent, you were placed front and center onto the field. And the more you grew, the more serious the teams were, the more you were valued.

And then it was easy to be in the center of the field- because you knew you wouldn’t fuck it up. You couldn’t. Something in your blood.

You sighed and stared at the bucket next to your feet, filled with things you didn’t want to look at.

With Crystal gone, and everyone’s newfound respect for Misty, the task of emptying the bucket had fallen to you.

You were good on the field. But much too shy to really form any real connections with the girls that could be useful out here.

And as you pick up the bucket, the cold metal sinking into your palm, leaving red marks, you remember that no matter how peaceful and beautiful the trees and the snow are, you’re still starving and cold. You still hate this place with everything in your body.

—-

In this place with no rules, you had made your own, and Natalie had become the master of them. The Queen.

In the weeks following the hunt and Javi’s death, the food in your stomachs, she had only solidified her reign until everyone looked to her without question. Sometimes it even felt like the only reason winter was here because she made it.

Even when they were at odds, Natalie and Lottie had still held a lot of love for each other.

Lottie had been something of a prophet before, and now that she had passed most the power and responsibility onto Natalie, she could truly become that prophet, that spiritual being.

And whatever they had done? They were good at it.

The snow crunched under your feet, and every bad moment in the place had been accompanied by that sound. No matter how beautiful the snow was, you were surrounded by it, suffocated by it and it’s frigid coldness.

Today was the day that most of the girls had been sent out to trifle through the woods, looking for any wood you can use to build up the fire. You had quickly peeled away from the rest of the groups that had formed, going off on your own.

You had already collected a good pile, and were making your way back to the cabin, feet crunching in the snow, singing songs in your head to keep you occupied. It was easy to wonder if you would ever hear a song again.

One thick branch rolls off from the pile in your arms.

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to figure out how to grab it without letting the rest of your pile fall to the ground. You’re thinking about leaving it when someone speaks.

“Hey,” the voice says, familiar, feminine.

You look around, your eyes tracing over the familiar fallen logs, the land, the girl crouching next to the tree stump where they had tried to murder Travis, wrapping a piece of cloth around her hand.

Blood in the snow.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking between Natalie and Lottie. You feel a little guilty intruding on them. Even though they still dress the same as you, they still hold so much power, they’re still in a relationship, and you have no idea what they were doing out here. “I… I’m just trying to get back to the cabin.”

Natalie smiles, like she has this entire exchange, and nods to the right. “Cabin’s that way. You’re not with anyone?”

You almost wonder if she’s talking to you.

“Oh. No, no. I’m fine.”

She takes a step forward, still smiling in a way that makes your stomach flip, leaning down in front of you and grabbing the fallen branch.

“Sure,” she says sarcastically, carefully placing it back on your pile.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling politely before turning towards the cabin. You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as you walk back.

—-

After you came back to the cabin, your cheeks aching from the cold, your hands red from the weight of the branches sticking into you at odd places- throbbing from your palm, a splinter lodged right into the center.

You sigh, sick of the throbbing, sitting by the front window for the light, trying to get the tiny thing out of you. You know you’re sitting on the bench that Lottie claimed long ago. But it’s the only one by the window, and you can’t see in the rest of the dark cabin.

You’re so focused on trying to get out the splinter, almost about to cry in frustration, your brows furrowing together, so you don’t notice the door open. Don’t notice anyone coming back, until Lottie is sitting right next to you.

She looks at your palm, studying it, and you look up.

“Sorry,” you say, referring to how much space you’re taking up on the bench that’s come to be known as hers.

She shrugs. “Need any help?”

And after a moment, you nod anc put your hand into hers. No one had any sense to bring tweezers to nationals, so all you had was your fingers. Lottie’s nail’s were sharper and longer than yours. Maybe she could get a good grip.

She tries a fails a few times, and you watch, just waiting, feeling her skin on yours and feeling how nice this silence is, how nice it is to touch someone and be with someone.

Before this, you can’t even remember the last time someone touched you.

Finally, it slides out slowly, and she flicks the tiny thing onto the floor. You smile immediately at the relief, feeling your stomach flip as she grabs your hand and pulls it up to her face, making sure she got all of it-

She looks up at you with such a blinding smile you feel a little dizzy.

You’re not stupid. You have eyes. Lottie Matthews is beautiful… but she looks like a star in this moment.

“All gone,” she says, and you’re breathless, thanking her, feeling eyes on you.

—-

It’s been snowing all day. Enough so that everyone is stuck inside, enough so it’s freezing cold, enough to make everyone feel a little like they’re dying.

Snow is just another reminder that each day you’re here, you’re not there. Life is passing you by, like you’re frozen in it.

You’re missing college, where every adult in your life said you would come out of your shell, first boyfriend, first party, first everything. College was where your life was supposed to happen.

Instead, you’re here in the beautiful, cruel forest.

Boredom is slowly overtaking your mind, and without chores to do, all you can do is lean against the wall and stare out into nothing. The voices of the girls playing games, Truth of Dare, 3 Truths and a Lie, fading into the background.

“Hey, Y/N?” Gen asks. You look up, not sure what to expect from her. She seems a little sheepish. “Uh… the bucket is full. And… it’s your job.” She twists her hands together, making a point not to look at the windows.

But you look over at the windows, the snow whipping around. It’s nothing like the snowstorm all those weeks ago. And it’s not as bad as it was before.

“…Okay,” you say after a moment, gauging that you’ll be fine if you walk quick and keep your hood up.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she says, and you simply stand up, letting your blanket fall from your shoulders, a little excited to get out of this stuffy cabin.

You walk past everyone and towards the back, past Lottie and Natalie who sit together at the table in the back.

“Where are you going?” someone asks. You turn around and look at Natalie and Lottie, about to lean down and pick up the bucket.

Natalie seems to be cleaning the rifle, which is spread out over the table, taken apart, and Lottie just sits next to her.

How nice would that be? You think before you can stop yourself. How nice would it be to have company like that?

“Uh, the bucket. It’s full. And it’s my job to empty it, so…” you trail off, watching as Natalie scoffs. She looks towards the window. The snow.

“No,” she says after a moment. “You can’t go out there in that.” You feel a little bad for Gen, and you stand a little straighter.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure I’ll be fine if I just walk quick-”

Lottie smiles, a little in disbelief, and gestures towards the window. “No one is going to the cliff in that, Y/N.”

And your face must reveal how shocked and confused you are, because Natalie sighs and gestures for you to sit down in front of her. You do, after a moment, resting your hands on the table so you won’t start biting your fingernails or anything stupid.

“Listen,” she says. “You spend a lot of time outside, which is fine, but… you’re getting sick. You feel it? You can’t go out there in this. You can’t go out there at all, not until you get a little more color in your cheeks, until you just… get a little warmer.”

Lottie reaches across the table and wraps her hand around your wrist. You almost gasp in shock, so long since someone touched you so fast and so much, pressing your hand to your face.

“Feel how cold you are,” she says in that apathetic voice, emotionless, the one she’s adopted out here. You think about her yelling, laughing, cheering on the field.

When you look at the girl across from you, you can’t imagine her doing that.

And when you feel your own skin, how cold it is, how you’re freezing and dying right in front of everyone, and you can’t imagine the girl you are right now running across a field.

“Oh,” you mumble, and her hand falls, and yours with it. She squeezes your hand before letting go.

“Just get warm,” Natalie says finally. As if that’s easy to do.

—-

The next time Mari came around with the cards to pick the chores, a task which had gotten grim in the past few weeks since the hunt, she doesn’t hold out the cards for you.

“Lottie told me you’re gonna make sure the fire is going, and helping with the cooking.” She looks you up and down. “Don’t know why, but.” But she won’t disobey them.

“Okay,” you say simply, looking over at Natalie and Lottie at the table, who are talking in hushed tones, and they’re looking at you.

—-

And this is how it goes for the next few days. You sit by the fire, and when it goes low you put another log in it. You help Mari cook dinner, cutting up meat you pretend isn’t what you know it is, mixing it together with the last of the plants. Watching as it cooks over the fire, them watching you.

When they held a ritual one night, everyone cutting their palms, dripping blood onto a bone skull, Natalie had grabbed your hand in hers, cupping it so softly with her warm skin that you couldn’t even feel sick at the feeling of the knife dragging through your skin, the blood coming forth.

And if anyone noticed how small a cut she had made, if anyone had noticed how little blood you contributed, mo one said anything. No one could, not with you standing there like a deer in headlights, Natalie wrapping up your palm herself.

You spent late nights staring at the ceiling, knowing they were just above you in the attic, holding each other and sleeping soundly, warmer than you. Why did they take such an interest in you? Why did they watch you?

Your bones are cold and hollow, and you have nothing to give besides the scraps of yourself. You’re cold and cold and that’s all you’ll ever feel until you finally freeze in the corner of the cabin, away from the fire, alone.

The days are warm by the fire, Lottie and her window fo your back, the sun pouring in, but every night you’re freezing. Natalie told you to just get warm. But you can’t, not at night, not all alone, so far away from the fire.

And the more you feel their eyes on you, and the more you can’t imagine a life without their eyes on you, the more you just want them to take away the coldness in your bones.

You and Mari stare at the pot of water, cut up rations of meat on your makeshift cutting boards, ready to be dumped in. Still, it doesn’t boil, and you let out a sigh, sitting back on your heels.

“Add another log in,” Mari says, her eyes reflecting the flames of the fire licking at the bottom of the metal pot.

You reach around to Lottie’s bench, in between her and Nat’s feet, grabbing another small log and throwing it onto the fire.

“You guys do know that a watched pot never boils, right?” Nat asks, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“Fine,” Mari mumbles, closing her eyes and sitting back. You watch as she peeks one eye open. “No, I can’t do it,” she groans, before turning around entirely to resist the temptation.

You laugh before turning yourself, your back pressed against the warm brick, your legs stretched out straight, shoes clicking together.

You listen to Natalie and Lottie whisper more, watch Taissa and Van play some weird game with a toothpick.

“Y/N,” Lottie says suddenly, and you look up. “That splinter you got a few days ago? It healed all right?”

You’re surprised she even remembers or cares.

Her eyes meet yours, and you swallow quickly, holding out your unmarked hand. You can’t even see the puncture left behind by the splinter anymore.

“It’s fine,” you smile slightly, and she smiles too, nodding, almost pleased.

“And you’re looking at lot better,” she notes. “A little less cold,” she muses, still smiling softly in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah,” you say, staring at your legs again, content to just wait.

Natalie nudges your leg with the toe of her boot. You meet her eyes, feeling the same as when Lottie looked at you, fire in your lungs, ache in you heart. She nods towards the fire.

“It’s boiling,” she says, loud enough for Mari to hear it.

“Finally,” Mari groans, turning around and putting the meat and vegetables into the boiling water, finally turning it into some messed-up stew.

But you can’t stop looking at Natalie. Staring into her eyes. Pinned under her gaze.

And she just smiles.

You look away, finally, only to lock eyes with Lottie again.

She has that same smile.

And that’s when you realize that they know what they’ve been doing the entire time, they know what they’ve been making you feel, they’ve been doing it on purpose.

Twisting the strings like they’re the masters of some dark game, weaving a spider web full of the yearning in your heart and your hollow bones.

Then you smile back.

—-

taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#lottienat x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader

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blackhistorystoryteller · 11 months ago

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Africa has been very rich even before colonialism

The truth you should know about African

Blacks know your history and divinity

They gave us the Bible and stole our natural resources

Community and Social Cohesion: Traditional African religions often emphasized communal values, fostering a sense of belonging and mutual support within the community. Rituals and ceremonies were communal events that strengthened social ties.

Respect for Nature: Many African traditional religions were deeply connected to nature, promoting a harmonious relationship with the environment. This connection often led to sustainable practices and a respect for the natural world.

Ethical Guidelines: These religions often included moral and ethical guidelines that governed interpersonal relationships. Concepts such as honesty, hospitality, and respect for elders were commonly emphasized.

Cultural Identity: Traditional African religions played a crucial role in shaping cultural identity. They provided a framework for understanding the world, explaining origins, and passing down cultural practices through rituals, myths, and oral traditions.

Islam reached Nigeria through a combination of trade, migration, and cultural interactions. The trans-Saharan trade routes were crucial in bringing Islam to the region. Muslim traders from North Africa and the Middle East ventured into West Africa, establishing economic ties and introducing Islam to local communities.

The city-states along the trade routes, such as Kano and Katsina, became significant centers for Islamic influence. Merchants not only engaged in commercial activities but also played a role in spreading Islamic teachings. Over time, rulers and elites in these city-states embraced Islam, contributing to its gradual acceptance.

Additionally, the spread of Islam in Nigeria was facilitated by the activities of Islamic scholars and missionaries. Scholars known as clerics or Mallams played a key role in teaching Islamic principles and converting people to Islam. They often established Quranic schools and engaged in educational activities that promoted the understanding of Islamic teachings.

Military conquests also played a part in the expansion of Islam in Nigeria. Islamic empires, such as the Sokoto Caliphate in the 19th century, emerged through conquest and warfare, bringing Islam to new territories. The Sokoto Caliphate, led by Usman dan Fodio, sought to establish a strict Islamic state based on Sharia law.

Overall, the spread of Islam in Nigeria was a gradual process influenced by trade networks, migration, the activities of scholars, and, at times, military expansion. The interplay of these factors contributed to the integration of Islam into Nigerian society, shaping its cultural and religious landscape.

In the vast tapestry of Africa's rich cultural heritage, herbal traditional healing stands out as a profound and time-honored practice. African herbal traditional healers, often known as traditional or indigenous healers, play a vital role in the healthcare systems of many communities across the continent. Their practices are deeply rooted in the natural world, drawing on centuries-old wisdom and an intimate understanding of local flora.

African herbal traditional healers are custodians of ancient knowledge, passing down their expertise through generations. They serve as primary healthcare providers in many communities, addressing a wide range of physical, mental, and spiritual ailments. The healing process involves a holistic approach, considering the interconnectedness of the individual with their community and environment.

One of the hallmark features of African herbal traditional healers is their profound knowledge of medicinal plants. These healers have an intricate understanding of the properties, uses, and combinations of various herbs. Passed down through oral traditions, this knowledge is often a well-guarded family secret or shared within the apprentice-master relationship.

The methods employed by herbal traditional healers encompass diverse approaches. Herbal remedies, administered as infusions, decoctions, or ointments, form a significant part of their treatment. These remedies are carefully crafted based on the healer's understanding of the patient's symptoms, lifestyle, and spiritual condition. Additionally, rituals, ceremonies, and prayers are often incorporated into the healing process, acknowledging the interconnectedness of physical and spiritual well-being.

African herbal traditional healers frequently integrate spiritual elements into their practice. They believe that illness can be a manifestation of spiritual imbalances or disharmony. Through rituals and consultations with ancestors or spirits, healers seek to restore balance and harmony within the individual and the community.

Herbal traditional healers are integral to the social fabric of their communities. They often serve not only as healers but also as counselors, mediators, and keepers of cultural traditions. Their practices are deeply intertwined with community life, contributing to the resilience and cohesion of African societies.

While herbal traditional healing holds immense value, it faces challenges in the modern era. The encroachment of Western medicine, issues related to regulation and standardization, and the potential exploitation of traditional knowledge pose threats to this practice. However, there is also a growing recognition of the importance of integrating traditional healing into mainstream healthcare systems, leading to collaborative efforts to preserve and promote this valuable heritage.

African herbal traditional healers are bearers of an ancient legacy, embodying a profound connection between humanity and the natural world. Their healing practices, rooted in herbal wisdom and spiritual insights, offer a unique perspective on healthcare that complements modern medical approaches. Preserving and respecting the knowledge of these healers is not only crucial for the well-being of local communities but also for the broader appreciation of the diverse cultural tapestry that defines Africa.

#life #animals #culture #aesthetic #black history #history #blm blacklivesmatter #anime and manga #architecture #black community

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thelyinggrapevine · 13 days ago

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What is below the cut line is a (very long) list of my headcanons for The Jiang Sect.

FOREWARNING! Jiang Cheng is my favorite character, although I do not bash Wei Ying. JC is going to have the most, simply because he is the one I think of the most. If this is to be a problem for you, please stop reading here! Thank you!

If you have any ideas or headcanons of your own you wish to add, feel free to say them!

Jiang Sect

With the weather of Lotus Pier, people who live there are known to have really curled hair. (Wei Wuxian never felt the need to curl his hair to look more “Jiang” since he never believed himself to be part of the main family truly)

Since Lotus Pier (and YunmengJiang as a whole) get the most direct sunlight out of all the main sects, the people that live there have very sunkissed skin—they are considered the second darkest skin tone of the main sects. (the Wen are first)

MeishanYu has a tradition of inking dark lines or dots on the skin of a person for every year they have lived or every achievement they have acquired. Yu Ziyuan took that tradition with her and implemented it on her children (she had offered to do the same with Wei Wuxian at the very beginning of his living with them, but he declined). (Jiang Cheng continues the tradition in YunmengJiang after the fire, himself having the most ink on him) [Credit of idea goes to @auberginesvrn on Twitter]

YunmengJiang likes to hold monthly swimming competitions (it happens all year round since the temperature rarely drops below 50 degrees Fahrenheit) and the winner of each one gets an “honorary” dot inked to add to their collection (should they want it, although most winners get one since that’s the main reason they join).

YunmenJiang's outfits are typically light purple and white for the summers so they don't absorb too much heat from the sun and are thinner in material, and during the winter they are a slightly darker purple (with white) and thicker material.

Zidian

Zidian is a sentient spiritual weapon and has a rare ability to give some of its own spiritual energy to its holder should it believe that they are worthy.

There have been theories that if needed and the cultivator is deemed worthy enough, a strong spiritual weapon could take the place of a golden core. (But, there have been no successful attempts made—yet)

Zidian is able to take multiple different forms in order to fit its wielder to the best of its ability. For its previous “masters” (wielders) it took the forms of a lance, javelin (weirdly enough), a ceremonial dagger, and a gauntlet; all had the ability to conduct Zidian’s purple lightning through them.

Yu Ziyuan had a whip form, and Jiang Cheng is able to form either a whip or a bow and arrow should it be a desperate situation (the second form has only ever been needed once, and the people who were there never lived to tell the tale, so no one alive knows of his second form for Zidian)

(The bow and arrow form is a lot like Yoichi’s demon bow and arrow from ONS)

Zidian also has a special ability that is rarely shown (even to its holders); its ability to turn into a snake. Only one other holder was able to do it before Jiang Cheng, and it was the first one.

Jiang Cheng is the first to learn of Zidian’s soul-carrying ability since he was the only one to die and then come back to life (given that it was in his younger body, but whatever). This ability allows the holder to hear/see (depending on how powerful the user is) the souls that Zidian has taken the lives of (from the orders of the current holder).

Once a holder has access to this, they are able to hear Zidian talk to them.

Fun fact: Jiang Cheng is Zidian’s favorite of their holders!

Jiang Cheng

When he was younger, he used to have his hair down all of the time, but the older he got into his teenage years, the more he was teased by WY and was called “Meimei” (He was also one of the most attractive cultivators in LP (without him knowing, somehow???)), so he started to put it up into a ponytail. Then, it only got worse, so he started putting it in a bun, which is more intricate than in the donghua. People thought it made him look even prettier, but decided not to say anything about it for fear he would change it again. Jiang Cheng thought he succeeded in looking more “manly” (he was sorely mistaken lol). (Having his hair in a bun also makes it even more curly when he takes it down 🤭) (His hair is also the longest of the cast, Jin Ling is second with Wei Ying being a close third)

He has a small tattoo of a spider on the outside of his right pinky where it meets the bottom knuckle as a reference to his mother and her influence on him.

When Jiang Cheng figures out he can turn Sandu into a tattoo, he chooses to make it appear on his back, with intricately woven vines and flowers growing around it—a reference to his family and home. (Refer to ‘Extra Headcanons’)

Jiang Cheng is actually quite proficient in his skills with a bow and arrow. He was good when Wei Ying was alive, and he was even more determined to get better when he died (it was a way for him to feel connected to his fallen brother, in a way, since it was one of the things that his mother used to constantly compare the two against each other)

His want to get even better also came from his resolution to be one of the main people to teach Jin Ling archery when he was old enough, given that it’s one of the things the Jins focus on the most (refer to ‘Jin Sect’).

Fun fact: one of Jiang Cheng's favorite snacks is cherries!

When Jiang Cheng started going after rogue Demonic Cultivators, a rumor started to spread, claiming that he was killing them off once he saw them after he returned back to his sect since no one would ever hear of the Demonic Cultivator again.

What really happened was Jiang Cheng would meet them and see if they could be reformed or not. If they could, he would offer them a job somewhere in his sect for the trade that they give up Demonic Cultivation and take some remedial classes that he gives. If not, he uses Zidian to kill them (that way when they die, the resentful energy that corrupted them is expelled and they are able to pass on to a better place instead of being grounded in the Burial Mounds).

Jiang Cheng has heard of the rumors that surround him, but he just never cared to dismiss them, saying that they gave him a more “ruthless” reputation and it helped him protect his sect better.

Jiang Cheng can hold his breath for up to ten minutes. It was found out at one of the swimming competitions and it ended up giving him the winning point. This also means that he has the record (beating Wei Ying).

At some point in time during the years that Wei Wuxian was dead, Jiang Cheng had a big mental breakdown—enough to spark Zidian. The lightning from the ring was strong, and for the first time in his life he could feel it hurt like a motherfucker. It felt like it went on for hours, but in reality it was only a couple seconds. Afterwards, Jiang Cheng couldn’t really feel his hand that much, and there were Lichtenberg scars covering it as proof of what had transpired. Zidian was still able to work, though.

Wei Ying

When he is resurrected into Mo Xuanyu’s body after 13 years of his death, he finds a butterfly permanently inked onto the boy’s body. At first, he thinks it was already there before the ritual, but he soon comes to find out that it was formed there after his soul took over the body, as it is a symbol of rebirth after death.

Wei Ying has actually attempted suicide multiple times, but Wen Ning kept stopping him before he could succeed (Wen Qing did as well, before she died, too).

Jiang Yanli

During the time both WY & JC were at the Cloud Recesses, Yanli actually took an apprenticeship with a cultivator who specialized in medicine and took a liking to it, her proficiency helping to give her a name in the area. Although, she didn’t get a lot of attention from it and eventually stopped practicing when WY came back from getting in trouble. The next time she ended up using her skills was during the Sunshot Campaign.

She had wanted to learn about using poison, too, but ultimately never got to.

#my headcanons #headcanons #ao3 writer #jiang sect #yunmeng jiang #jiang wanyin #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #wei ying #jiang yanli #zidian #mxtx mdzs #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 3 months ago

Text

An Unwavering Light - Chapter 2

Rating: T/Teen for violence (in this chapter) and mature themes, including ones about trauma and depression.

Setting: begins before the confrontation with Aizen and co. in Fake Karakura Town arc, and goes from there to the Thousand Year Blood War arc. This chapter takes place during the events of the manga from chapters 334-391.

Music to listen to: Recollection I (YT | Spotify), In Remembrance by Evan Call (YT | Spotify), Ceremony Commences by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), 1130 TYBW full of guitars by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Nothing Can be Explained Instrumental by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Nightmare by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify) Invasion by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify)

Fic synopsis: During the confrontation against Aizen, the unthinkable happens. For Hitsugaya, a vow is broken, and for Hinamori, her future is unknown. With everything in shambles, how can they piece their lives back together? Or their bond?

Chapter synopsis: Hitsugaya loses his focus after Hinamori's sudden appearance on the battlefield and he finds himself turning his attention to the man who started all of this. Hinamori sets out to prove why she is worthy of being the lieutenant of the Fifth Division.

AN: A warning that this chapter is particularly violent, with mentions of severe injuries, including self-inflicted (only for Halibel's fraccion if you remember how Ayon comes into being).

Other than that, this chapter feels like I'm going 'look at all the missing scenes!'. I didn't want this to be a complete a play-by-play for the whole battle (and for the moments I did, I simply to did it either to show another perspective or look deeper into how the character may have felt in that moment), so I found moments where I thought something may have happened. We're only moments away from the pain that is chapter 392/episode 293 ;_;

Hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer: BLEACH and it’s character’s belong to Tite Kubo.

<< Prev chapter || Chapter Index || Next chapter >>

___________________________________

The crescent moon shone overhead against a starless sky.

Hitsugaya shielded his eyes to make it out. He’d never seen a moon so sharp and bright. Somehow, though, he knows he’ll eventually grow accustomed to it. That it will become as natural to him as the sun and moon in the real world.

Hello, Master.

The booming voice didn’t startle him. He lowered head and hand, but was slow to turn to the towering dragon behind him. Unlike the last few times, the creature doesn’t bring icy gusts of wind or crashing snow with his arrival.

“It’s you again,” is all Hitsugaya could say. He was not in awe or fearful, only confused. What was this creature? Did he have anything to do with the spiritual potential that woman mentioned? “I can understand what you’re saying this time.”

Do you know my name? he asked.

Hitsugaya shook his head.

The dragon lowered his head rather sullenly. You will hear it in time.

"You haven't told me what it is," he said.

I have tried, but you cannot hear it.

Hitsugaya didn't understand how that was possible. Rather than question the dragon, he stared at the ice beneath his bare feet. It’s cold, but it does not freeze him. A landscape like this should have him shivering at the very least, but it’s surprisingly not unpleasant. If anything, it felt liked he belonged here.

The idea made him frown. “What is this place?”

Your inner world. It is where all your potential and power resides, the dragon said.

“And why did you bring me here? Why are you in my dreams?”

You called out to me.

Hitsugaya raised his head. “What do you mean? I never did that.”

You did it without realising. I hear things you cannot. For years now, you have been calling out to me, and I heeded.

“No, you were trying to hurt Baa-chan,” Hitsugaya accused. “Why?”

I did not. That was a result of you not having control of your abilities. I had hoped you would hear my name, and in doing so, harness the power within you. The dragon gave a growling huff – a sigh, perhaps. However, despite the power you have, you are still a child, after all.

Hitsugaya bit back a barrage of arguments, knowing it would get him nowhere. He was also perplexed at the range of emotions this dragon was showing. Before he’d been stoic, but just now he’d sounded disappointed. Still, there’s a patience about him, a willingness to listen to him even when he knew it would get him nowhere. In a small way, it reminds him of the patience of his Granny.

He stared down at his hands. This power the dragon spoke of, did it come from them? If he directed his hands in certain ways, like how Hianamori did when she practiced those weird gestures on her breaks from the Academy, would it he be able to control it?

Without realising, he found his mind shifting, as if focusing on a sense. But this was nothing like the senses he knew. He didn’t see, smell, taste, hear, or physically feel anything. It was a sense beyond those, one that encompassed his mind. It picked up a presence in the land around him and the towering dragon before him. It radiated in icy, invisible waves. It’s immense, so much so Hitsugaya winced as he tried to break out of whatever this was.

With a yelp, he freed himself, but it sent him stumbling back and barely catching himself before he could fall on his backside.

“W-What was that?’ he murmured to himself.

You sensed the power within you. That is only the surface, like what you see immediately here.

He looked around again and noticed for the first time just how vast the icy plain was. It extended beyond what his eye can see, continuing past the horizon into darkness. Frozen trees and hills far as the eye could see, lit only by a small crescent moon.

Hitsugaya shook his head. “What’s my power?”

You will learn that in time. First, you must train. Then, you must learn my name. The more the learn about your abilities and mine, the better control you will have.

“And Baa-chan will never be hurt again?”

No, my power will be for you and you alone to wield.

Shinigami were supposed to use their spiritual powers to protect Souls and Humans from harm caused by Hollows. He’d seen, however, that Shinigami are not the revered figures most children saw them as. Like any adult, they have faults. Like any adult, they could disappoint you.

He raised his hands again, looking at the backs before rotating them to face the palms up. What things could he do with these powers? The same as other Shinigami? He never wanted to become a Shinigami, but it seemed he had no choice. If he stayed in the Junrinan, he would never learn how to control the cold that had nearly killed Granny. And Hinamori would be there at the Academy, at least. He tried to ignore the slight glee that came with that thought.

“How do I learn your name?”

____________________________

When Hitsugaya woke this morning, before the sun had risen and all of his officers were still asleep, he thought about seeing Hinamori. Try as might, he couldn’t dismiss the idea as he changed into his uniform, attended the emergency meeting, or ate a small breakfast, appetite lost at the thought of who he would be facing. Even after Rangiku joined him in the few hours they had left before the battle, he thought to ask his lieutenant to take a detour with him to Fifth Division before they met up with the other captains and lieutenants.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to focus on what lay ahead for them. They weren’t just engaging Aizen in battle, but the Arrancars. He’d trained in the spare time he had to ensure he was better prepared than he had been in the World of the Living.

Hitsugaya would cross swords with Aizen, he would see to it that it happens. Because he would not cut him down out of malice or hatred. He would defeat him for the vow he'd made years ago, and for Soul Society as part of his duties as a captain of the Gotei Thirteen. He had earned the title fairly and without agenda, Aizen had not. He would stand as an example of what captain should be, and against everything Aizen is and believed in.

He would go to this battle as a captain, and return ready to help Hinamori through whatever came next.

Yet, as he and Rangiku had made their way to the Senkaimon, he’d extended his senses to detect Hinamori’s reiatsu. It was stable, much stronger than he thought it would be. He couldn’t help but let out a small, relieved breath. She’ll be safe here, he thought, they can’t get to her here.

It’s why the pulse of her reiatsu is a shock to the system. For a fraction of a second, he thinks he’d imagined it, but it’s stable and remains in the periphery of his sense. He hesitates mid battle, almost earning him a slash from the blonde Espada. He doesn’t have time to look around as Hyourinmaru clashes with her sword.

The Espada holds him there, matching his strength. “Your spiritual pressure was spiked for a moment.”

He keeps his expression neutral. Was this a tactic to catch him off guard? “What are you on about?"

Her gaze narrows a fraction. “What happened?”

He matches it. “I don’t know what you're walking about.”

He releases a flurry of ice, which she lunges away from with ease. At least it put distance between them. More than being perturbed by his opponent’s observations, his chest constricts at sensing Hinamori’s reiatsu is still in the area.

Hinamori…

She’s somewhere behind him, next to Rangiku. She was likely the source of that fiery explosion before that helped his lieutenant against The Espada’s fraccion. Just as he noticed this morning, her reiatsu is steady and strong, perhaps the best it’s ever been. Yet he is reminded of the last time he’d seen her.

Please save Captain Aizen!

He lets out a shuddering, quiet exhale through his parted lips. Why did you have to come?

What’s going on in her mind? More importantly – the very next thought makes his stomach churn and anger roil up at himself for even thinking such a thing – was she here for the Soul Society or for Aizen?

His opponent comes in for another strike, and he’s forced to forget about Hinamori for the time being. If she’s with Rangiku, she should be safe.

___________________________

It’s had been simpler to find the battle than Hinamori thought. It was simpler still to rush around undetected, setting up an invisible kido net that used a combination of the spells around Rangiku and attaching it to her lieutenant’s badge. It’s one of the many combinations she’d come up with while researching and reciting kido chants in her room. Depending on how they faired after this one, she may need to use another. As Genji had said, these opponents are far stronger than any they’d faced, she can sense it from the reiatsu that emanates from them.

Even as she stared down these opponents a few minutes ago, Hinamori couldn’t help but notice Rangiku’s worry in her peripheral. This is why she came here: to prove to her and everyone else she was no longer Aizen’s subordinate. She was the lieutenant of Fifth Division, and she would fight alongside them.

Around them, her fire now extinguishes to smoke. She pants for a couple breaths and a sweat has broken out on her face and arms from exertion and nerves. She inwardly chastises herself for the latter. She has been in many battles, some of which have had months long gaps between them. Why should this one be any different?

“Are you okay, Hinamori?”

“Yes.” She drops a hand from Tobiume’s hilt and turns to look at her fellow lieutenant. She musters up a smile – albeit an rueful one. “I apologise, Rangiku-san. That’s the first time I’ve ever used that king of kido combination.”

Rangiku smiles faintly. “Don't apologise. It was impressive.” She briefly glances at the slowly dissipating smoke around them. “That was Fushibi, right? I’ve never seen it so finely spread out before.”

Hinamori can’t help but embrace the tiny swell of pride cause by Rangiku’s words. She lifts her other hand from Tobiume and gently massages it with the other. “Well…I blended Fushibi with Shakkago. After that, I cloaked them with Kyokko and stretched it out like a net.”

Most of the smoke has dissipated, and she casts her gaze to the horizon. It’s one of the few places where she didn’t see a battle occurring. “I must admit, it was hard to do all of that under these conditions but…” She returns her small smile to Rangiku. “I’m glad it worked.”

At Rangiku’s widening smile, Hinamori dares to hope. Finally, one of her friends’ worry had vanished. She’d proven she didn’t need worry or concern. She can fight alongside Rangiku and the others. Now, she needs to confront –

One of the few plumes of remaining smoke shifts strangely. Then, not even a second after, “Thrust, Cierva!!”

The other two also emerge from the smoke, calling out what sounded like releases for their weapons.

Hinamori’s heart races. “What?!”

She takes in their changed appearance – one has become half humanoid half serpent, the middle one has horns, and the last one had a yellow mane coming from coming from a headpiece. But above all, they looked unharmed.

She shakes her head. “I knew it wouldn’t affected severely affect, but there’s unscathed!”

“They regenerate when they perform their resurrection,” Rangiku explains. “It's their most powerful attack."

So surprised by this revelation, Hinamori doesn’t pay attention to what her opponents say to each other. Both she Rangiku raise their blades, ready for their next attack.

For Hollows, Hinamori had a knack for being able to tell what sort of attacks they will likely use. There was usually a tell, perhaps in something unique about their appearance or in the way they moved across the battlefield. With these three, she has no idea. They’re a species she’s not confronted until now. She wishes she got more intel about them before coming here.

Then, without warning, all three Arrancar each violently rip one of their own arms off. Both she and Rangiku can only gasp in horror, and watch as they throw their limbs into the middle of their semicircle, where they knot over one another, then twirl and becoming a thick cloud of white smoke.

It expands, becoming monolithic and taking the shape of something inhuman.

“Wh-What is that?!” Rangiku stammers.

But Hinamori cannot reply. She has lost her voice, and all she sees is darkness. A strange terror has her in its clutches, one that sends ripples of cold through her and drags her closer and closer to the beast’s eyes that are as black as bottomless pits.

___________________________

A new presence has joined the battlefield. One which gives Hitsugaya pause. He’s never felt anything like it; a dark abyss of energy, one that threatens to suck in anything near it.

He doesn’t chance a glimpse in the direction of the reiatsu, focusing on the Espada as she lunges forward with a particularly hard strike. He deflects it with a grunt, sending her sword off to the right. He takes the chance to stab at her side, but she spins out of the way and comes for his side instead. He twists and blocks the attack, but it leads to them clashing swords again.

Neither budge, pushing their strength and weight into their weapons. There’s faint tremor in his limbs which he pointedly ignores. However, there’s something about the Esapda’s posture too, it’s a fraction more ridged than it should be. He hasn’t been much of a struggle for her up to this point, and surely crossing swords like this was not a challenge for her. Is she affected by this dark presence too?

“What is that thing?” he demands. “It’s come from your fraccion.”

Halibel considers for a moment, simply returning his glare. “It’s none of your concern.”

Before she can notice, he lands a kick in her sternum, sending her skidding back. The beginnings of Hyourinmaru's Shikai are on his lips, ready to use the chain to –

Rangiku’s reiatsu violently spikes up

He freezes, eyes widening at the shock of it. She’s severely hurt, bordering fatally. Matsumoto!

Faintly, he hears someone else scream her name. With a grunt, he realises it’s Hinamori. What’s happening? He needs to --!

The Espada is suddenly in front of him. Her slash at him sends him barrelling backwards, his feet in the air until he forces them to the ground to skid him to a stop. Heart pounding and a bead of sweat falling down his temple, he struggles to return his focus to his opponent. He goes on the defensive against the Espada while he senses what’s happening with the lieutenants.

Rangiku’s is falling, and so Hinamori. Judging from her stable reiatsu though, Hinamori isn’t injured. Again, she calls out his lieutenant’s name. Then, they come to a stop, and as he dodges a strike from Halibel, he sees below them and off to the far right a blur of blue -- some kind of kido net, he can’t tell which – and two figures in the middle.

He barely has time to feel an iota of relief. Not because of the Espada’s attacks sending him away from the view within seconds, but because that dark presence suddenly appears in front of Hinamori’s reiatsu. Only two seconds later, it strikes her.

The impact on her reiatsu is as sudden as Rangiku. She’s gone into shock, and her injures are almost as severe as his lieutenant’s. She’s being propelled backwards.

He almost falls back and drops out of the sky. Hinamori! No!

He quickly straightens and looks back in the direction of the lieutenants. He can’t see them anymore, but there’s the source of the powerful reiatsu. A giant creature stands in the air above the city building, looking like a Huge Hollow but having the height of a Menos.

That all too familiar violent anger boils up in the pit of his stomach. He goes to flash-step to Rangiku and Hinamori, ready to freeze whatever this vile creature was to the bone.

A stab from the Espada stops him. The point of her sword comes dangerously close to his temple, and he barely manages to evade it. Strands of his hair are off, flying into the air.

"Pay attention," she reprimands despite her flat tone. "Their battle is not yours."

Hisagi and Izuru’s reiatsu suddenly appear next to Hinamori’s. The creature hasn’t moved, keeping it’s distance from Hinamori but still far too close to Rangiku.

Can he leave it to them? Does he really have a choice? His opponent won’t let him leave their fight, and he can’t let her attack someone else. With that in mind, it pains him to return his full attention to the Espada.

___________________________

Hinamori can barely breathe. There’s a wheezing sound coming out of her mouth as she tries to get air into her punctured lung. She tries to ignore the coppery taste on her tongue and she’s distantly aware that Hisagi is battling Ayon, but she only keeps her hazy gaze on Rangiku.

Izuru has his back to her, bent over their fellow lieutenant as he heals her. Sweat drips down his face and arms, and his brow and lips are drawn down in concentration. The green-blue kido emanating from his hands stands in stark contract to Rangiku’s paling skin and the light blue of the Tozansho’s prism.

Rangiku’s bones and organs slowly heal, while her flesh knits over itself smoothly and quickly. It’s evident Izuru hasn’t performed this kido in years; the spell is supposed to heal both internal and external injuries at the same pace, but an inexperienced or rusty user ends up repairing one part quicker than the other. Still, it's beneficial, better than her bleeding out.

Without warning, Izuru goes rigid and twists to the looming threat approaching them with booming steps. Hinamori forgets to breathe. Where is Hisagi? Had he been defeated by Ayon?

“H-He’s coming!” Izuru says, more to himself. “I’m almost finished, I just need a little more time.”

The kido beneath his palms stutters out for a moment. Hinamori is about to call out to him, when a hole of blood appears in Ayon’s chest. When she notices the Captain-Commander, she doesn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

Izuru stumbles over his words in the older man’s presence, who lectures him in return. She loses focus, not able to keep up with what they’re saying. A wave of dizziness and cold suddenly overcomes her. Has she lost too much blood? Or is this from pent up anxiety?

She rests her head against the kido beneath her, but turns her gaze back to Rangiku. She’s still taking shallow breaths, and her shattered ribs and injured organs are sealed over by skin. She’s safe for now, but it won’t be long until she’s back to being on the brink unless Izuru continues to heal her.

“Izuru-kun…” Hinamori rasps out.

She’s not sure if he heard her. A darkness creeps in around the edges of her vision and a fatigue sets into her limbs. Her eyes become hooded, trying to resist closing them all together. Something escapes her lips, but she can’t tell if it’s a slurry words or a just a sound.

Izuru becomes a blocky blur, but he twists around to her. Before she falls into the darkness, there’s a loud, terrifying roar, and as she shuts her eyes, she thinks she hears Izuru say, “I’m going to move you and Matsumoto-san! Hold on, Hinamori-san!”

___________________________

Hitsugaya spins away from another missile of water. It splashes hard into the top of a building, caving in the roof and several floors before pouring out on to the streets.

He stops flapping Hyourinmaru’s wings and flattens them, sending him gliding lower. The Espada is stronger than he anticipated, and he hadn’t understood her battle strategy before. She shoots with waves after wave of water he can easily dodge. However, as he soars over the streets, the collecting waters gave him the idea. She’s waiting for water to build up.

To think he would face an opponent like her. They can wield the same element but in opposite states. Had Aizen brought her here to face him for that very reason? There’s something that feels almost predetermined about their fight he can’t shake off. Nor can he forget how she’d threatened the Captain-Commander.

“I will avenge their deaths.”

He glances over his shoulder. She’s gaining on him, fast. She draws her weapon back, and his eyes widen at the yellow glow that builds up on the blade.

“Cero.” She slices the air, sending the beam in an arc. He flash-steps away, but not quickly enough. One of Hyourinmaru’s wings is cut in half, and he has to quickly find somewhere to land. He goes to the first rooftop he sees and lands on it’s balcony. The railing is slick with water, as are the walls beneath and the power-lines above it.

Another of Hyourinmaru's flower petals breaks apart. Considering the attack he’s come under just now and for how long he’s been in the Bankai state, he’s doing better than he anticipated.

In the back of his mind, something bothers him. Reaching out his senses, he curses under his breath. Izuru and Komamura’s reiatsu are close by – so much so Hitsugaya is confident if he looks over his shoulder right now he would see them be able to clearly make them out from this distance. Next to them are the weaker reiatsu of Hisagi, Rangiku, and Hinamori. He takes what little relief he can that his lieutenant and childhood friend are both safe and no longer on the verge of serious injuries. Still, the way Hinamori’s reiatsu flickers and wanes, is worrisome.

He wills his expression to neutral, but find himself fighting off a deepening frown. The Esapda has her back turned to him still, but she no doubt sense him. Based one how this fight has gone, he’s confident she won’t attack the others; she seems focused on finishing their fight first.

“Your tactics are strange,” he comments, drawing her attention. In his peripheral, Hyourinmaru’s wing regenerates; he needs to stall until it’s completely reformed. “But I have a feeling why that's the case. I'm guessing we're both waiting for the same thing to happen. For this battlefield to fill up with water, allowing either of us to strike a killing blow.”

She says nothing, and her expression remains impassive. Still, it’s all the confirmation he needs to say his theory was right. He’d said to her before one should save their greatest tactics for the greatest moments of crisis. Given who is not too far away from them and how the battles around him were going, he needs to help shift the tides in the Soul Society’s favour. Given her strength, there’s only one ability he had that can vanquish her at this point. What if it affected the others somehow? He's never --

"Are you concerned for them?"

He grunts, returning his gaze to her. "What?"

"Your allies just over there, are you concerned for them?"

At his lack of an answer, her expression briefly breaks into something reflective. "Right now, you have a choice to either sacrifice them or make yourself a sacrifice to save them. Regardless of what you choose, either you or they will carry the moment you made a choice forever." She raises her weapon, once again becoming stoic. "Choose carefully."

What was this? Is she trying to unnerve or goad him? He shakes it off, choosing to see this as a threat to those behind him.

“Fine. There’s no use both of us waiting.” He raises Hyourinmaru, and more to himself than his opponent, he says, “I’ve never tried this while in Bankai, but you leave me no choice."

“What are you talking about?”

Hyourinmaru’s wing is almost regenerated. He doesn’t have to stall her for much longer. “To tell you the truth , I don't need to wait for water to gather. Hyourinmaru is the ultimate ice-type zanpakuto.” He fully faces her and grips his zanpakuto with both hands. “All water is my weapon.”

The Espada lets out a quiet, startled sound and her eyes widen at the sky as what he meant dawns on her. The clouds darken and rapidly gather above them, blocking out the sun for half of the battlefield.

With Hyourinmaru’s wing back to its full form, he launches himself from the railing and shoots back into the air, coming to level with her. “The whole sky is under my control.”

“What is this?”

It’s most emotive she’s sounded. He thinks to just initiate the attack and not tell her; given the circumstance, it might the smartest strategy to use. However, he finds himself uncomfortable with the idea.

He goes on to explain his abilities to her, and she only listens, not moving to strike him when she has every opportunity to do so. Is she accepting her fate?

When he comes to the end of his explanation, he pauses. He was not blood thirty or a lover of fighting like Kenpachi, but she’s been a worthy opponent, the strongest he’s faced in decades. Then there was her threat to Captain-Commander that won't leave his mind…

“What is your name, Esapda?”

As if his words take her out of a daze, she schools her expression to impassive again and looks down at him. “I'm Espada Tres, Harribel Tier.”

“I’m Captain for the Tenth Division, Hitsugaya Toshiro.” He raises his blade. “Are you ready?”

___________________________

Both Hinamori and Izuru watch as the clouds part and form a circle above the Espada. The that snow descends in a cascading rush through the hole makes both of them gasp. It’s so glaringly white, she has to squint to still see Hitsugaya and his opponent, who goes to make an attack against his. It’s useless; the magnitude of the avalanche is something no one can fight off.

“I-Incredible,” Izuru murmurs, stunned. “What…What is that ability?!”

“Whatever it was, he risked much doing it this close to us,” Sajin comments, failing to keep the alarmed tone out of his voice. “But then, he didn’t have much of a choice.”

Within seconds, the snow rapidly transforms into a tower of spiky ice. It resembles a pillar of flowers, piled on top of one another as though growing from hundred of vines snaked around a column. The Espada is nowhere to be seen, likely trapped within the ice.

The clouds begin to thin and the sun returns, but Hinamori frowns when she notices Hitsugaya hasn’t moved away. He remains close to the ice tower, zanpakuto lowered. Is he gazing into the ice to check his opponent is there?

Eventually, he turns, lingers for several more seconds, then flies off. He's heading towards them. For a moment, she wonders if he’s coming to check up on them. However, he angles himself higher into the sky and passes them overhead. She loses sight of him and she can't help the tiny pang that pricks at her heart.

“Shiro…can.” She barely realises she’s said the nickname aloud.

It’s been so long since she last saw him, and now she’s only gotten to see him from afar. That will change after this battle is over, she’ll make sure of it. Whether he’s angry at her for coming to battlefield or happy to see her, she’ll find him after all of this and thank him for protecting all them.

A whimper comes from her left. She lolls her head to the side. Rangiku has her eyes shut still and her brow furrowed in pain, but her breathing is normal. Izuru has done the best he can, but Hinamori hopes Fourth Division will arrive to battlefield sooner rather than later.

On the thought of her friend, she tilts her head downward to look at him. He’s kneeling over Hisagi, working on his internal injuries. The Ninth Divison’s lieutenant is still conscious at least, but he grimaces as he’s being healed.

Izuru's forehead and temple glisten with sweat, and there’s a small tremor running through his arms. He’s getting fatigue. Soon, he won’t be able to keep this up without hurting himself.

“Kira-kun…”

“I’m almost done here,” he says, slightly clipped.

“Are you all right?”

He lets out a grunt, and finally his eyes reach hers, wide with bewilderment. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“Don’t…push yourself –” A cough interrupts her, causes a fresh trickle of blood to run down her lips. The pain returns afresh, and she winces as it explodes through her chest.

Alarmed, Izuru looks between her and Hisagi. She wants to tell him to focus on Hisagi, but at the former’s nod towards Hinamori, Izuru deactivates the kido and rushes to her side.

“You’re the one who shouldn’t be pushing themselves,” he warns, before activating the kido over her torso. The relief comes quickly, soothing the pain into smaller waves. Her breathing remains shallow, not able to take in full breaths.

Her gaze slips to behind Izuru’s shoulder. There’s the pillar of ice, which Hitsugaya has returned to. He's comes out of his bankai state, but his posture is one of vigilance. He watches the battle unfolding around the area, looking for a moment he can strike perhaps.

Further away, Yamamoto’s flames burn in a circle of high walls. Hinamori tries and fail to not detect the reiatsu emanating from behind the fire.

She looks at Izuru. “Have you seen any of them?”

He picks up on the implication quickly. His brows fall into furrow. “No, just sensed him.”

She can’t help but let out a relieved sigh. “I hope…you don’t have to.”

The corners of his mouth tighten. “Yeah…I hope so too.”

The spike in his reiatsu says otherwise. There’s a hint of anticipation there, buzzing along the weighed down whirl that is his reiatsu.

He hesitates as he deactivates the kido over her. They both wait for almost a full minute for another coughing fit or for her pain to return.

“Where’s Abari-kun?” Hinamori asks in a whisper.

“He and Kuchiki-san went to Hueco Mundo.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say for certain, but likely because their Human friends went there to save the girl that sided with Aizen.”

Hinamori frowns. If she’s a traitor, why would they go after her? An answer comes to the surface, one she desperately wants to dismiss. Are they like herself? Unable to accept the truth about someone they thought they knew? Or perhaps this girl is innocent in all of this, and had been tricked by Aizen into following him. Perhaps it’s the fatigue weighing her down or the last embers of hope, but Hinamori wants to believe the latter is true. “I hope Abarai-kun and Kuchiki-san are all right.”

Izuru doesn’t respond. After a beat, he tilts his head to the side, pensive. “Why did you come here, Hinamori-san?”

She blinks. She shouldn’t be surprised by the question, but perhaps it’s because it’s coming from Izuru. A part of her had thought he’d understand without having to ask.

She lifts her gaze to battles happening above them in the distance. “I couldn’t stay behind. I had to be here, it’s a simple as that.”

He doesn’t raise his head. “You’ve always been like this.”

With how flatly he says it, she can’t tell whether it’s a fond observation or a critique of her character. “How do you mean?”

He shakes his head and shifts over to Rangiku. With his back turned, she can’t tell how he feels. “Nevermind.”

She wants to say more, but finds herself speechless. Is he disappointed that she came? Are there others who feel the same?

She watches the battles unfold, first with victory of Soi Fon over her opponent, and the battle between an Espada and Kyoraku and Jushiro.

Terror grips her as the sky splits a new Espada arrives with a fearsome, gigantic creature. The new Espada injures Jushiro and with a yell, breaks the ice encasing Hitsugaya’s opponent. Near her, Izuru goes rigid, his wide-eyed gaze solely on the events unfolding above them and the kido cast from his hands over Hisagi stuttering away to nothing.

He begs Komamura to go join the fight, but before Komamura can respond, a sounds comes the creature. It moves out of the split in the sky and comes to loom over the circle of fire. Pursing it’s lips, it blows a current of air flames, reducing them to streaks of smoke within seconds.

Hinamori forgets to breathe. Her vision is becoming increasingly blurry, but she can clearly distinguish Aizen. He’s there. He’s really there.

Izuru lets out a choking sound. In the end, he did see his former captain afterall. Despite their earlier interaction, she wishes she could stand by his side and they could help each other through this.

He falls forward, barely catching himself with his hands on the ground. “This is really the end!”

It must be. What can they do against Aizen? She came here and show he doesn't have a hold on her anymore, that she is worthy of carrying her title. In the end, she has ended up injured and scared.

And then, without warning, a new presence joins the battlefield. No, not just one, several. It's enough to pull Hinamori out of the spiral that threatens to engulf her. She barely registers the new arrivals, her senses so hazy she can’t quite distinguish each reiatsu from the other. There’s something strange about them. They’re Shinigami, but there’s something else within them.

She searches the sky, finding a group wearing clothes from the World of the Living. They’re directly confronting Aizen and the other former captains. Who are they? Are they on their side?

Perhaps her panic has gotten the better of her or her bewilderment is so great that she's lost her mind, but she can't help but feel an inkling of hope.

___________________________

The winds were harsh, screeching in his ears and threatening to push him over. It was the coldest it’s ever been on the frozen plains, it even burned the soles of his feet. Still, he remained standing. Still he kept his eyes closed. Still he gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to raise his arms and block the wind from biting into his face.

He focused on the power of this place, burling around him like a blizzard. This was his, even if he didn’t fully comprehend it. He knew it had to be his. Only he can wield it.

He cursed and opened his eyes. The dragon towered over him, watching Hitsugaya, unflinching as a statue. He could hear him speaking, voice as loud as a thunder clap, but like all the other times, the words are lost in the wind. He listened, really tried to listen.

“Your name is…Your name is!”

He hissed out a frustrated grunt. No matter how far he tried to reach for it in his mind, it always slipped from his grasp. He’d been training this whole time learn it, and yet it had only taken him so far in learning his zanpakuto’s name. Was it that the dragon did not trust him with it?

He’s at his limit. The desperation clawed at his heart, twisting and clenching it. Where else could he go? This power was his. He wanted it, needed it…

He flung his gaze up to the dragon’s. “There are things I want to protect with this strength and power!” he yelled over the wind. “That’s all I will ever use it for!”

The vice around his heart squeezed even more, causing him to let out a strangled gasp. If he didn’t have this power and strength, how can he possible help those who helped him? How can stand by Hinamori’s side? How can he --?

It came out him as a scream, one that soared above the winds and plunged deep into the ice below his feet. “I want to protect her!”

There was a flash. Not before his eyes, but somewhere within him. Something like a locked door finally opened. One that had always been within him, hidden away until this very moment.

The power shifted, coiling around him, hissing in his ears and rushing up into his veins. He gasped at the cold of it, at the way is thrummed through his blood and against his bones.

“It’s…coming,” he murmured in wonder, staring down at his hands. Then, with more excitement, “It’s coming to me!”

Another flash, this time through his whole body. The power solidified, as if turning to impenetrable ice. It was a vital part that kept him together and whole; he doesn't knwo how he's lived without it for this long.

With widened eyes, he looks up to the dragon. He’d spread out his wings and bowed his head closer. The very action stopped the winds and brightened the moonlight shining down upon them.

The creature, he realised now, is truly a part of him. This power he held was this creature, and it carried in it a name. He spoke to him again. “ ‘My name is…’” Hitsugaya repeated back without realising.

He stood taller, hands fisted at his sides. He listened closer to the voice that whispered rather than roared in his ear, echoing from his veins and heart. From a part of him that had always been there, remaining unnamed until now.

He grasped on to what it said, in the voice of the dragon. “ ‘My name is Hyourinmaru!’ ”

He left his inner world through the moonlight, letting it consume him as the ice crackled and Hyourinmaru flapped his wings with a howl.

___________________________

Hitsugaya leaps forward, the air whistling around him and the world becoming streaks of color. He only sees the traitor he will cut down. He is far from anxious to face the Soul who had cut him down ad made him feel powerless. That boiling in his stomach roiled as he raised Hyourinmaru and brought the blade down harshly against Kyoka Suigetsu. It did nothing to rattle Aizen, but he half expected that would be the case.

“You came at me without much thought,” Aizen says, smiling faintly. “That was rather reckless of you, Captain Hitsugaya.”

Hitsugaya withholds a sneer; he refuses to show any emotion in front of Aizen. “Someone had to make the first move. I commend you for not activating Kyouka Suigetsu on your first strike.”

“Allow me to do the same for you…” Aizen says flatly, before deflecting Kyouraku’s attack to his side with a kido shield.

Hitsugaya knew Kyoraku would follow, had sensed it in the way he’d glanced at him briefly. Had he known he would strike first? Hitsugaya shakes his head; it didn’t matter.

He falls back, sensing the remaining captains, lieutenants, and their newfound ‘allies’ all coming towards them to join the fight. He and Kyouraku will have to keep Aizen occupied for the next minute.

He goes in for several attacks, as does Kyouraku, all avoided or blocked with ease. This is not the fighting style Hitsugaya has seen Aizen use before. This is a different Aizen, a truer version of him. He still has the same grace that comes when he deflects an attack with his zanpakuto and casts a kido at the same time, but there’s a fast pace to it, and a calculation behind each strike. It’s as if he knows their moves before even they do.

Swallowing the cry that wanted to come from his throat, Hitsugaya lunges again, bring Hyourinmaru down hard. He can’t let this frustration get the better of him. He can use it as fuel to keep him engage in the battle, but never as source of power. Never as his sole motivation. He is a Captain of the Gotei Thirteen, and the Soul before him had turned his back on that title.

Aizen brings his zanpakuto down, countering the attack and causing Hitsugaya to skid back. He comes to a stop a short distance away. As he stares the traitor down, he can’t get rid of the previous thought. Aizen hadn’t just turned his back on the title, but also on everything it stands for.

The words come to the surface, and Hitsugaya doesn’t stop them from reaching his throat. “Before, you said a sword without hatred is light an eagle without wings…that a sword swung out of duty will never cut you.” Aizen’s smile falters, falling to a straight line. Hitsugaya doesn’t gloat on the small victory, instead continuing as he lowers Hyourinmaru to his side, “You don’t seem to know the truth, and that is…a sword wielded from duty alone is what a captain always does. To wield one with hatred is nothing but violence. The Soul Society would never consider that a battle.” He stands a little taller. “It seems, Aizen, you weren’t ever captain material if you truly believe that.”

He was always planning the Soul Society’s downfall and their deaths along with it. He never cared for a single Soul or Human. He didn't even care for his allies, cutting down Harribel like she was nothing to him this whole time. The vision he had, whatever it was, had led him to this and dragged everyone in with it. To think he can hold such power, it sickens Hitsugaya.

“How interesting…” Aizen’s smile returns. “To hear those words from you, the captain who hates me the most out of all of them, is quite surprising to me.”

Hackles raised, Hitsugaya brings up Hyourinmaru again. He loathes how the comment struck close to home, that he has read him that well.

“Are you telling me you have no hatred in your sword right now?”

What’s he getting at with this?

“Or perhaps…did your hatred vanish when Hinamori-kun showed up completely recovered?”

It rushes up his spin, white hot and surging through every nerve-ending. It’s something dark and scorches like an ice burn. He’d experienced in the past few months on a smaller scale, in the moments where he struck a training dummy far too hard, or awoke in the middle of the night wanting to scream to the sky, or when he had last spoken with Hinamori and wanted nothing more than to kill Aizen right there and then.

Her near-death flashes before his eyes, far too vivid still. He can never forgive the traitor for that, could never let him walk away from this battle alive.

He’d missed whatever had happened between Aizen and Kyoraku as he'd gone into this state. Aizen turns around when Hitsugaya cries out his Bankai’s release. Behind him, Kyouraku becomes wary.

He ignores his fellow captain, zeroing in on Aizen alone. “You’re right, Aizen. My sword is filled with hatred. Hatred for you.”

Hyourinmaru roars in his mind, ready for this fight. The burning cold now flows through his veins and strikes through to his bones. He will become as cold and ruthless as he needs to be, as vicious as a blizzard that smothers all life caught in it.

Because truth of it all was he didn’t come here for the Soul Society. He wanted to fool himself into thinking that was his main motive, but he never could. Ever since the day he’d seen Hinamori dying on the floor of underground chambers of Central Forty-Six, this fight was never going to be about just protecting Soul Society. He'd thought of Hinamori this very morning, and how she would be safe. How he would ensure she remained safe.

“I didn’t come here to just do battle with you!” he bellows. “I came here to violently hack you to pieces!”

Let him be a hypocrite. In face of what this traitor did to Hinamori, what did his captaincy matter? If it meant he had to abandon it, then so be it. He’ll crush Aizen to nothing, will freeze him through to the core and shatter him to icy dust. His name will vanish in the decades, forgotten by all and only brought up when his demise was spoken of.

And what would become of himself? It didn't matter.

___________________________

They’d become specks in the distance, hard to see beyond the yellow of the kido shielding them. Hinamori had tried to keep her eyes open, but they were hurting and she ended up closing them and rolling her head to the side.

Now she cracks them open a fraction, able to see Izuru and Iba watching the battle. They’d stopped focusing on the injured and are completely still. Something must be wrong. She rolls her head to the other side. Rangiku, now conscious, has her gaze also above, but Hinamori can’t tell through the tussled blonde hair if her frown is one of concern or confusion.

She tries to make out the figures, and all but three are indistinguishable. The Ryoka boy – Kurosaki Ichigo, she corrects herself – stands a long distance away from the battle. Hitsugaya’s ice wings flap shooting himse forward at such a speed he becomes a blur before he attacks Aizen.

Other figures swoop in after that, and it becomes a chaotic scene. She loses track of the battle, seeing but not really concentrating on what is happening.

It’s why she frowns when, after Soi Fon engages Aizen in the confrontation, he vanishes.

She let’s out a surprised gasp when her view is suddenly obstructed. The white of the Soul before her is glaring against the kido. Without having to see his face, Hinamori’s heart seizes up and then races as her blood turns cold.

His shadow casts over her. A vague sense of kido, one of concealment, rolls off him. A blink, and Hinamori sees him more clearly as he casts his gaze to Rangiku. In the sickening seconds that feel like minutes, she hazily suspects he’s considering doing something to her fellow lieutenant.

She makes a sound, the beginnings of a wordless protest, which draw his attention back to her.

Hinamori blinks again, and he bends forward and grabs her by the front of her uniform. His face is darkened by shadows, making his appearance all the more shocking to her.

With a violent jerk, he pulls her back off the ground, forcing a choked gasp out of her. Her head and limbs loll back, as though she were a ragdoll. Is this real? How did he get past barrier? Why is no one around her seeing this? Even if he is using a concealment kido, it would have broken with him grabbing her. Unless it's one stronger than any she knows. The power of him, the things she never knew. The things he'd done, to her and her friends.

She lets out a broken whimper. “C…Captain.”

Aizen pauses. Behind him, high up in the sky, Soi Fon has created an army of clones, but they’re a blur to Hinamori, her focus only on him.

“Why did you come here?” His voice, so familiar but somehow so different, breaks something in her.

She can only let out a strangled sound in response. How she wanted to tell him to his face she'd come her to face him and fight alongside her fellow lieutenants and captains. She should reach Tobiume, sheathed at her hip, or shoot a kido through him. She has the strength to do the latter, but she’s paralyzed.

“No, I already know why.” She can hear the cold smile in his voice.

With a tilting back of his head, sunlight and the glow of the kido around them illuminates Aizen’s face. His eyes finally reach hers. He says something else, but it doesn’t register. The disdain and coldness in his gaze pierces her. It tells her what she already knows, what she’d tried to deny weeks ago but realized before she came to this battle. it's what splints whatever in her had broken before. You never mattered.

With a brutal pull, she’s off the ground completely. Everything passes in a haze, and then all she sees is the sky, much closer than before. A sudden cold presses up against her back, and she’s losing her footing. Looking down, Karakura Town is sprawled out beneath her, and Soi Fon is rushing at her.

Aizen is nowhere to be seen.

__________________________________

“It’s over Aizen!”

Hitsugaya lunges forward, and with a flap of his wings, he shoots forward at great speed. He doesn't give the other captains a chance to deal the finishing blow. He keeps his grip on Hyourinmaru strong and his focus solely on the man frozen again the ice.

Seconds before the blade pierces through the traitor’s back, Hitsugaya thinks he hears Hinamori begin to call out to his name. It ends so abruptly he barely even registers it.

He stabs Hyourinmaru through the ice and into Aizen’s back, and it's all over.

_________________________________

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#toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #hitsuhina #rangiku matsumoto #izuru kira #sosuke aizen #tier harribel #bleach #fanfiction #angst #oh boy...#next chapter's going to be a hard one...#I hope you all liked this one though!#I ended up cutting a lot of content from it #hoping to find a way to incorperate somehow down the line in other chapters

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