#thread: loose leaf

[chivalrain]

𓆰 loose leaf [Open]

Open Starter for anyone!

He hadn't been so engrossed in a book for awhile.

Though he was free to leave Wanwen Bookshop once paying for his book, he loitered inside among the shelves, eyes fixed on the text before him. The novel he read, one of daring adventures and battles with epic moves to outdo the last, was truly captivating, an inspiration for his own writing.

Eventually, shooed out by Jifang, he left, eyes still on his book. He walked on autopilot through Liyue Harbor, stopping only when he found an adequate bench to continue reading on by one of the many lotus ponds.

...

Speaking of his own writing,

"Oh no." Xingqiu patted the inside pocket of his jacket where his outlined sequel to A Legend of Sword had been. He'd thought that the papers with the outline haphazardly scrawled on it would be safe, but it must have scattered all over the ground as he'd walked, oblivious to everything but his new book.

He stood up, immediately gesturing to the nearest passerby, keeping his tone as polite yet urgent as possible.

"Wait, noble stranger. I have a favor to ask of you, and one I am willing to repay. Some documents which are of the utmost importance to myself have gotten lost around town, and I would appreciate your confidentiality should you find them. They're all handwritten, and should be around here somewhere. Might you have the time to help me?"

He seemed blissfully unaware that no one could have hoped to read his notes anyway.

[sundancefemme]

i am a mad genius

[velvees-archive]

At 20 years old, Miles Edgeworth’s only mentor tells him never to step foot into his opponent’s territory lest he fail to crush them in court. 4 years later, Edgeworth enters Defendant Lobby No. 1 to warn opposing counsel Phoenix Wright about Redd White’s decisive testimony.

Some post-AAI1 reflections + how Phoenix unravels Miles from the very moment they meet again.

After playing through the original trilogy, up to 4-2 on Apollo Justice, and all of Ace Attorney Investigations 1, I couldn’t help but jot down my (admittedly incomplete) thoughts about Phoenix and Edgeworth’s relationship, especially as it pertains to Miles’ “unraveling,” or his departure from von Karma’s teachings.

We already know von Karma had no love for Edgeworth. Crushing the late Gregory Edgeworth’s legacy under the guise of mentoring his son (and eventually ruining his career at its peak) was von Karma’s last act of hatred towards the departed.

From Miles’ perspective, however, von Karma was an accomplished teacher to whom he owed his gratitude and career’s success. This is important because Edgeworth’s actions are fundamentally motivated by his desire to express his “gratitude,” repay debts, and honor legacies.

His debt to von Karma compels him to strive for the perfection his mentor obsesses over. Achieving perfection takes the form of absorbing von Karma’s teachings, among them the AAI1 screenshot from earlier: only face your opponent in court, and make sure you crush them when you do it.

We know for a fact that the “demon prosecutor” internalizes von Karma’s teachings. He follows them to a T.

So, following 15 years of indoctrination, 4 years of putting the von Karma creed into practice, and an entire childhood AND early adulthood’s worth of gratitude, you’d THINK Edgeworth wouldn’t dare dishonor him…

Until he does, by coming to the defendant lobby to speak to his “enemy.”

Prior to playing AAI1, I thought the impetus for Edgeworth’s character development was 1-3, wherein he reevaluated the facts of the case and helped Phoenix get Dee Vasquez a guilty verdict. I still think 1-3 was the first time he consciously acknowledged the possibility (keyword: possibility) that his prosecutorial upbringing wasn’t..sound…(lmao!)

But with this AAI1 von Karma and Bratworth interaction, I now believe it was 1-2—with Edgeworth subconsciously disregarding his mentor’s teachings and Phoenix acting as the catalyst—that shows us when he first strayed from the path of a Von Karma.

An aside: Do I think AAI1 Bratworth was perfectly characterized? Not at all; he’s much too noble for that era of his life, though I don’t think it affects my case.

Edgeworth is a man full of contradictions. He comes to the defendant lobby to tell Phoenix his case is hopeless, though he has no obligation to disclose���nor has he ever set a precedent of disclosing—decisive witnesses’ information to his opponents.

He tells Phoenix he’ll do anything to get a guilty verdict, yet he warns the defense that his witness’s testimony will be considered infallible, prompting the player (Phoenix) to dissect the following testimonies with more care.

He tells Phoenix not to expect any special treatment from him, yet his very presence in the defendant’s lobby is in direct opposition to his respected mentor’s wishes.

It takes just one appearance from Phoenix for the filaments of von Karma’s indoctrination to unravel. 4 years into his career, Edgeworth has met many attorneys—most notably, Mia Fey—who embody Phoenix’s faith in his clients, yet none could shake his foundations like Phoenix Wright.

Edgeworth may have not been ready to turn a new leaf upon his first encounter with Phoenix, but the fact that a loose thread from his childhood (that’s emblematic of his innocence, his dreams, and dare I say his father’s drive) ultimately leads to his unraveling is poetry if I’ve ever seen it.

TL;DR Phoenix deconstructs Edgeworth like he was born to do so. The moment Phoenix decided to chase after him, Edgeworth had already lost.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Halsin being very mindful of Astarion's "don't touch me"

Mindful enough that Astarion catches on to how deliberately he doesn't touch him. How even when Astarion has been downed in a fight, and Halsin has no time or ability to ask, he still says "I'm going to pick you up" before he does, or, "I need to lay hands on your wound to heal it"

So Astarion decides to fuck with him. Because he can. This is a man who was paying attention, who wanted to be so very respectful that Astarion can't help but turn it into a game, see how far he can push the druid.

Sitting too close, with no contact. Standing a little too close. Leaning over the large man's shoulder with his whole body to stare too-close at what he is whittling. It's easy to do, Astarion is a master of dextrous movement and seductive poses.

The first thing he learns is that Halsin is incredibly easy to get a reaction out of. "Heart on his sleeve" barely begins to cover it, the large druids heart rate picks up easily, he flushes, he telegraphs his responses with honest expressions. And yet still, he doesn't fall for the bait.

So Astarion starts touching him. Very, very innocently. Tugging at a loose thread on his shirt, flicking a leaf out of the druids hair. It's all fun and games, he thinks, with a goal of... With a goal of...

And one night, somehow, he's in Halsins' arms, warm and safe and listening to the sound of the big mans heartbeat thudding steadily while the fire burns low outside of his tent and he has no idea how he got here, but the game seems to have ended, somewhere along the way.

And this...

This is nice.

[leth-writes]

Yandere! Batfam x Poor! Hacker! Reader

The first thing you noticed when you approached your apartment, arms laden with groceries, was the sleek, black car parked in front. This was unusual; you were in a neighborhood where a car like this would get its tires stolen.

As you entered the lobby, you spotted the elderly lady that lived upstairs. 

She was shaking like a leaf, face teary and pale, and her whispy hair was hanging loosely around her face like she had been running her hand through it.

“Oh dear, oh no!” She sobbed upon spotting you.

“What's wrong, Mrs. Lark?” You asked, concerned.

“There's someone upstairs… He came in that fancy car looking for you!”

It felt like ice down your spine. You couldn't believe it; who would be looking for you?

You handed her the groceries and bounded up the stairs two at a time, stopping on your floor and bending over, gasping for air.

Who could possibly be looking for you? Who was waiting for you? Was it the elusive new owner, who you still hadn't met?

You opened the unlocked door slowly, attempting to soundlessly slip in without notice. You failed.

Sitting in your one armchair was a young man, maybe 19, leaning back with his legs loosely crossed. His arms were laid upon the armrests. and cold, icey blue eyes were locked onto you. His midnight blue suit was without crease, and his leather shoes looked out of place on your dark, scuffed wooden floors. His short, dark hair floated lightly around his starkly pale face, with eyes lined in eyebags a deep, dark purple. 

“So you're our mysterious thief.” He droned, head tilted to the side slightly, and eyes narrowed.

It was Timothy Drake, young CEO of Wayne Industries and the brightest mind in the city. You'd forgotten about him in your hunger-induced stupor.

“I'm sorry…” you intoned, head lowered.

“You could at least have the decency to look the man you've been stealing from in the eye when you apologize.” He said, mouth pulled into a frown.

You met his eyes, and the world shifted to the left.

Your eyes widened in shock. You could see it in the corner of your eye, the grey threads that signified your soul family, with the inner most one, hooked around your pinky, slowly turning glacial blue, the same color as Tim's eyes. He looked shocked, glancing from the thin thread connecting your pinky and his right index to you. He slowly stood up, face still slack in surprised.

“I-I…” He stuttered, one hand limply raising in your direction.

You took off running,hearing him swear faintly in response. That was your second mistake.

[jasperthehatchet]

I mended my sweater!! There was a hole in each sleeve and I patched them up with green cotton fabric and darker green thread. I used fabric instead of my faux leaf patches since I wash this sweater more often. I'm really happy with how it came out!!!

[Image ID: two images of my arms, with loose dark green sleeves. There's a lighter green leaf shaped patch stitched onto each sleeve, with a darker green stitching outlining the patch and running through it to look like veins on a real leaf. End ID]

[secriden]

rewatching love sea and i've got some episode 1 mahasamut thoughts:

i'm so appreciative of how much we get to see of mahasamut being an important part of the island community in this episode. its character establishing/quick scenes but we see a consistent thread of kindness, gentle and good humoured interactions, and just overall helpfulness to others. you see him having fun with palm who is younger and clearly loves and respects mahasamut. you see how he knows and cares for different people in very personal ways.

another thing epsiode 1 does a good job of doing is establishing how intelligent mahasamut is both intellectually and emotionally.

he instantly clocks on that tongrak thinks the island/mahasamut is "beneath" him. tongrak is a jerk from the get go, acting as if because he's rich (his focus on how expensive his suitcases are) he can treat mahasamut like crap. he assumes mahasamut can't speak/understand the central dialect and openly makes disparaging comments about his intelligence.

but rather than getting annoyed/offended, he weaponises the prejudice and leans into it to annoy tongrak. he doubles down onto the Southern dialect (even after he reveals he can speak Central). when tongrak whines about not understanding him, mahasamut just repeats himself but slower (such a good allusion to when people yell at you slower and more loudly as if that will magically make you understand English better). he leans into the whole 'small town awed at the fair skin of the city boy' act (masterful depiction of someone weaponising the 'dumb country hick' stereotype).

mahasamut just has such a good handle on tongrak from the start and it really showcases how smart and intuitive he is; like he instinctively knows how to handle this feral cat of a human being that tongrak is (i say this with complete affection).

his handling of tongrak is so incredibly effective and it throws tongrak so off his game that he looses all cool and just blurts out how baffled he is by mahasamut's reactions to him. this tells us (and mahasamut) that not only is tongrak aware that he's being a jerk, he's doing it on purpose because this usually works to drive people away. but it doesn't and never will work on mahasamut and the show lays the foundations of this aspect of mahasamut's character right from the start.

but whilst mahasamut remains unfazed by tongrak's bitchiness (for lack of a better term), we also see that he is not going to be a pushover either (and i love that he never becomes that even after he falls in love; in this, mahasamut's character is wonderfully consistent). he isn't shy about calling out tongrak for his poor behaviour/rudeness. he specifically points out that tongrak's been acting like a spoiled pet (or child).

(this is an aside, but) tongrak's (peat's) fist looks so tiny in mahasamut's (fort's) palm here i giggled. it's just... so ineffective. plus the way peat played it, it looks like tongrak tried to put some force into that hit but mahsamut is completely unaffected. very stoppable force meets unmovable wall. just. hilarious.

but also!! whilst all that is going on, mahasamut is also doing a really good job of taking care of tongrak. when he enters tongrak's room, he first cleans up after the tornado of trash and beer bottles, puts away his clothes properly, then brings tongrak out to get some proper food in him (it's not his fault that tongrak only has a single lettuce leaf; he tried). mahasamut takes him out on the boat to relax him and give him inspiration for his novel. and when he realises that tongrak's genuinely scared and upset and not just being a pain, mahasamut actually treats that with sincere care and concern, apologising and comforting him (in the novel, apparently tongrak slaps him and he still responds only with care and comfort). he's so incredibly gentle with tongrak here.

later in the series we see how much of their relationship development hinges on the the juxtaposition of words vs actions because neither of them put much stock by words (tongrak, because its the tools of his trade and he knows how they can be used to deceive; mahasamut because he never cares what people say about him) but episode 1 does a great job of establish just how good mahasamut is going to be at showing his love for tongrak once he gets there.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Until the First Leaf Falls // Red-Haired Shanks x gn!reader

a/n: written for @threadbaresweater's Summertime (and the Livin' is Easy) collab cw: gn!reader [no pronouns used]; reader's age not specified but implied to be close to shanks' age; suggestive content but no explicit sex depicted; a little angsty wc: 2.6k // read on ao3

The tall seagrass scratches your bare legs as you traipse down to the beach, a picnic basket held tightly in one clammy hand, a bottle of cheap red wine in the other. The afternoon sun looms high overhead, and beads of sweat tickle your neck as you huff and sigh, your pace now just short of a jog. It’s silly, you think to yourself as you reach the sand—it’s awfully silly how a man, a man who doesn’t even belong to you in any sense of the word, manages to make you nervous and eager, turns you into a lovesick teenager with a crush at the mere thought of him.

In the distance, Shanks reclines against the thick trunk of a palm tree, his legs outstretched, hand behind his head. He cracks one eye open and smirks as you approach. “You’re late, sweetheart.”

“Late?” you scoff through panting breaths. “You’re early! I didn’t think you’d be here for another day or two, and next thing I know, someone’s griping about a pirate ship at the docks and it’s you.”

Shanks groans as he stands and stretches, sauntering towards you with a wry grin on his face. “You act like you’re not excited to see me or something.”

“Of course I’m excited to see you, you bastard.” God, the way he so easily takes your heart and holds it in his hand is unnerving. You set your bundle of items down in the sand, and let your arms fall loosely at your sides, surrendering to frustration and longing and the subtle electric currents that always course through your veins when he’s around. “It’s just—I just had to scramble to close up the shop, and I didn’t even have lunch ready, and—”

A wide hand settles on your cheek—he’s sundrenched and warm, his skin rough against yours, familiar and welcome—and he quiets you with a kiss, gentle and soft, just enough to tell you that your rambling is unnecessary. He knows—he already knows it all, knows how wound up you get every year when the delicate winds of spring give way to the sultry air of summer, how the heat makes you restless as you wait for him every year.

“Better?” he murmurs as he pulls away and places a light kiss on your forehead.

You nod, avoiding his gaze for the moment. “Yeah. Better.”

He leans down and grabs the picnic basket, leading you back to the shade of the palm tree, settling in the sand and making great haste to uncork the wine. “So, you mean to tell me you don’t just drop everything and sit here waiting for me when you know I’ll be coming around?”

“Oh, Shanks.” You roll your eyes and pick at a loose thread on your shorts before stretching out your legs and placing them in his lap. “If I did that, I’d be out of a job.”

Shanks clucks his tongue and shakes his head, a low laugh reverberating in his chest. He runs a hand up your calf and gives your thigh a good, firm squeeze.

“Come on now, I was only late that one time.” He rustles through the basket of food and grabs a handful of grapes, popping them in his mouth one by one. “Just once.”

Just once.

It was just once that you’d waited in the summer sun after work every day, just once that you’d hurried to close your shop, declined invitations for drinks and dinners with friends in favor of rushing off to the seashore. It was just once that you’d turned down dates with men who didn’t spend their whole lives at sea—men who were well-meaning and kind but profoundly dull, who would never quite measure up to your ephemeral lover. It was just once that you’d wandered down to the beach, day after day, waiting until the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the wind grew cold and hostile, and the moon rose and joined you in your midnight melancholy.

It was just once that you’d waited there—impatiently, feverishly—until the days grew shorter, and the trees changed their colors, trading brilliant greens for rust and ochre and gold, the leaves dressing themselves in the hues of decay. And then one evening, as your chest ached with fears of things you couldn’t even begin to fathom, and the setting sun illuminated you brilliantly in your hopelessness, there he was. There he was, wandering down the shoreline with a bottle of rum in his hand and remorse written in his features.

“Sorry I’m late, honey,” he’d whispered against your lips as he greeted you, wrapping you in the comfort you’d been craving until you’d had your fill, until you were ready to burst at the seams with . You’d forgiven him quickly, as he offered you apology after apology with his lips and his tongue and his fingers until you were fragile and breathless and had all but forgotten his transgressions. But it was then that you’d made a vow to yourself—you would never let autumn come and allow yourself to still be pining for him, still be waiting like a pet whose master was away.

Never again.

No, you made a vow to yourself that you would only wait for your part-time paramour to arrive while the days were still long and the nights still sweltering, the air thick with humidity and desire. If he ever broke his promise—that promise he’d made on the first year you’d surrendered to his relentless flirtations and let him ravish you there on the beach where you would wait every year after, the promise that he’d always return every summer to enjoy your company again, a promise you never expected him to keep until the following year when he’d wandered into your shop with a sheepish grin on his face and his hand in his pocket, strands of crimson hair falling in his eyes, your name dripping from his lips like honey—that would be the end of it.

That would be the last he’d see of you, you swore it.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

Shanks’ whiskey-smooth voice lingers in the air, nudges you out of your ruminations. You muster a smile and nibble on the edge of a cracker that you apparently had been gripping in your hand. “Just a little distracted is all.”

Shanks tilts his head in that way you’d grown to hate and love—that way that says, without a word, that he knows exactly what you need, that he knows you better than you know yourself.

“Why don’t we skip lunch and take a nice, slow walk back to your place, and I’ll see if I can’t get rid of those pesky distractions.” He grins, and his tongue pokes at the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya say?”

You exhale through your nose, mumbling at him to not be so damned smug about it as you stand and brush the sand from your clothes, already longing for the feeling of his weight on top of you.

**********

The last golden rays of evening filter through your curtains, the distant horizon painted in exquisite shades of fuchsia and violet, and Shanks pulls you tightly against him, your body perfectly slotted under his arm. Your fingertips dance over his chest, running through the sweat-dampened hair that covers his torso, while you place small kisses along his jaw and neck.

“How long will you be here this time?” you ask, syncing your own breathing to the rise and fall of his chest.

He sighs and kisses the crown of your head, a sign of bad news to come. “I can’t stay long. Just a couple more days to get supplies and then we have to head out.”

You hum quietly in reply and drape your arm over his chest. The answer to that question was never what you secretly, shamefully, hoped it to be—you always wished he’d at last declare that he’d be staying, that his days of being a pirate, of being an emperor of the sea, had come to an end and it was your sleepy little island that he wanted to call his new home.

But it was a dream, a fleeting fantasy, to ever think that he would give up a life at sea for the likes of you, for the likes of the ordinary and the mundane. In your most indulgent moments, you imagined a life of quiet routine, of homemade breakfasts enjoyed together on your front porch, of sending each other off to work with a kiss and a wink and a whisper of filthy desires to be fulfilled later that day.

“You gonna miss me when I leave, honey?” he teases as he sits up and leans back against your headboard.

You groan, momentarily annoyed at having to move, before you straddle his lap and slowly move your hips against him, just until you feel him stirring again. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“So that’s a ‘yes,’ then,” he laughs before he leans down and playfully nips at your shoulder.

His laugh is the sound you miss the most, what you hear ringing in your ears when he’s gone—not his deep moans of unabashed pleasure, not the way he whispers you name against your lips, but his laugh, his goddamned laugh. So rich and deep and warm, like a glass of aged whiskey sipped in front of your fireplace, like wrapping yourself in a blanket fresh from the clothesline, heated by the midday sun.

Shanks places a firm hand on your hips to still your movements, and swallows hard as his eyes flit over your face. There is a silence that settles between you, one that starts make you itch a little in anticipation, before he finally murmurs, “You should come with me.”

“Shanks! I—I think I’m a little past my prime, you know? For—for a life of piracy,” you stammer, taken aback by his suggestion. Sure, he’d joked once or twice of tossing you over his shoulder and absconding with you as his concubine, but never like this—never with this tone, this intent, this look of sincerity in his expression.

“Oh come on,” he grins, running his hand down your arm, “stop talking like you’re ancient. And besides, I think you’d love it.”

You raise a suspicious eyebrow, your gaze flitting back and forth between his eyes and mouth, looking for any signs of insincerity and finding none. “You think so?”

“What’s not to love? Someone making your meals for you every day, fresh sea air in your lungs, going to all sorts of places you’ve never been.” He beams and you can almost see the whole of the world in his eyes, all that you could ever dream to see and then some, a vast, uncharted ocean for you to discover. “It’s a big world out there, you know.”

You set your hands on his shoulders, trying to still the sudden tremor that’s gripped you. “And what happens when—when things get dangerous?”

Shanks brings his palm up to your face, strokes your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Well, I’ll be there to keep you safe, of course.”

Of course.

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world—of course he’ll keep you safe, of course he’ll protect you from the myriad of dangers that await you, of course he’ll protect you once you’re his and his alone.

“And you can guarantee that?” you ask, knowing the answer already.

The corners of his mouth rise briefly in an approximation of a smile. “Nothing’s a guarantee, sweetheart.”

“Even if I said yes—your crew would be okay with this? I barely know them.”

“They’d learn to be okay with it. Besides, you’ll be with me most of the time anyway, you don’t need to worry too much about them.”

“Oh, what, like you’re all I need?” you scoff without thinking.

Shanks slides his hand to the back of your neck, holds your head still, makes you hold his gaze for a moment, then another, then another, until you feel exposed and raw. “You tell me.”

Your mouth opens and closes, words slowly coagulating in your throat and threatening to choke you. It’s all that you’d wanted and more, it’s all that you’d dreamed about for years and years, ever since that first day he’d shown his damned face in your shop, ever since he’d charmed you with that glint of danger in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips. Right now, it’s more than you can handle, and no matter how badly you want to say yes—to blurt it out, to scream it into the evening air, to throw your arms around him and tell him that you’d gladly be his as long he wished—the words never come.

Instead, you blink away the water that forms at your lash-line and clear your throat. “Would you, um—would you go run us a bath?”

Shanks’ smile never falters, no matter how forced you know it must be. He nods and leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Of course.”

You crawl under crisp sheets and watch him saunter into the bathroom, the soft glow of your bedside lamps casting his nude form in shadows, light dancing across the planes of his back and the steely contours of his thighs, highlighting the smooth ripples of muscle beneath warm, bare skin. You could wake up to this every day, if you wanted—you could crawl inside his ribcage and make a home beside his heart, if you wanted. He’d let you, if only you’d say yes.

The sound of rushing water echoes against tile and spills into your room, and it masks the intermittent hiccupping breaths that force their way out of your lungs. It’s too good to be true, it must be. Surely you wouldn’t be happy trapped on a ship with near-strangers—you weren’t built for a life of adventure, of excitement and discovery. No, you were built for a life of comfort. A life of predictability and certainty, of dinner at the same inn every Tuesday night, of regular customers dropping in just to say hello, of soft mattresses and freshly laundered linens, of mundane hobbies and early bedtimes.

Shanks calls your name and gestures for you to join him, a smirk creeping up the corners of his lips that says he isn’t done having his way with you just yet, that a bath is simply an excuse for him to make you whimper and sigh a few more times before you fall into a restless sleep. It will be a welcomed distraction for you both, trading uncertainty and ambiguity for flesh against flesh, for tensing and releasing, for warm afterglows and quiet moments of affection. You settle in between his legs, your hips pressing into his thighs as water laps over the side of the tub and splatters onto the floor. You lean back against his chest, closing your eyes and telling yourself you’ll think about it—you’ll think about his proposition, even if you know the outcome already: you’ll stay.

You’ll stay, and you’ll welcome the passage of time, anxiously awaiting the change of seasons as the afternoons become sweltering and the insects sing when evening comes. You’ll stay, and you’ll meander to the beach, day in and day out, and you’ll run your fingers through sand and keep an anxious eye on the shoreline, waiting for your first glimpse of him returning to you, just as promised.

You will stay. And you will wait.

But only until the first leaf falls.

[webslingingslasher]

YOU SHOULD WRITE A BLURB (is that what they’re called i forget tbh) ABT FRAT PETER AND READER SHOTGUNNING WEED !!

how about.... boyfriend frat!peter

“C’mere, baby.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice, hopping seats to perch on your boyfriend's lap. Feet dangling out the arms of his cushioned seat.

“Hi,” wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his soft curls at the back of his head you nod at his hat, when he voices no opinion you take it off before tossing it on the seat you were occupying. 

“Hi, honey,” his eyes looking down at his hands, a rolled tobacco leaf stuffed with green. Peter darts his tongue out to smooth down an edge, pleased with his roll job he holds it up. It was a nice night, so nice, Peter was finally able to make use of his private balcony. 

Dragging your hands up the bottom of his neck until you got to the crown of his head, sending his hair into all puffed directions. You grabbed two chunks of hair and made tiny pigtails, you giggled at the look and he shook his head clear of your grasp, being polite, you fixed your mess. 

“You’re very cute,” your hands pulled at a loose thread on his shirt, in return Peter dug his hands into the pocket of your hoodie for the lighter you stole from him while he rolled. Passing a finger through the flame to pass the time, it made him crawl with anxiety and he was able to relax when you hid it away. 

“You need to stop, I’m a taken man,” orange sparks, his thumb clicks it again, a flame comes to life. The blunt tucked between his teeth as he inhaled, the flame engulfed the end while Peter puffed until it was fully lit. 

His words made your heart flutter, you weren’t given time to respond to him. Instead he blew out a thick stand of smoke, “ready?” You bounce your head, and nearly jump in his lap with excitement. 

“Scooch,” you wiggle your hips closer to his and brush some hair behind his ear while you wait patiently for his instruction. 

“Lit end goes in my mouth, I blow out, you inhale, got it?” 

“Mm hm, got it.” 

The blunt rotates in his hold, carefully wraps his lips around the cherry and looks at you. Leaning in, a steady flow of smoke billows from the tapered end, you inhale slowly, your eyes hooded while you look down at your boyfriend. 

Peter’s cheeks sucked in, you worried about the lit part burning him, chest rising as you reached limital air. Pushing at his chest when you couldn’t breathe in anymore, his hand plucked the blunt from his mouth, taking his own smooth hit. 

Exhaling shakily you cough, smoke billows from Peter’s nose. 

“Fun?” 

You shake your head, “hot.” 

His tongue clicks, “trouble.”

[dawneternal]

I Have Loved You For the Last Time

Sad Eris ✅

Gay Eris ✅

Soft boy Eris ✅

Based on the theory that Mor and Eris had secretly agreed to a lavender marriage. Forgot Eris's hounds are supposed to be big don't roast me

TW: angst, homophobia, loss of a loved one, inner circle critical (from Eris' perspective)

Word Count: 1.4k

Eris pulled his scarf up to cover his nose and nuzzled into it. The autumn wind was bitingly cold today, as if it was also restless with grief. It pressed against him as he walked, as if to say

we know we know we know

The sun cast golden light along the path, illuminating each fallen leaf with tender care. Bare tree branches twisted into a sparse canopy, fracturing the sunshine as it fell. The bittersweet smell of decaying leaves mingled with the scent of distant swaying wheat fields. All carried on that fluttering wind.

Eris looked down at the hound that walked by his side, donning a little plaid cloak to protect against the cold. So content to follow him wherever he went, looking up at her master every once in a while with only admiration and eagerness in her eyes. The most loyal creature he had ever met.

The path curved toward the edge of the woods and Eris pushed through the wards at the treeline. He entered the protection of the little clearing and let out a deep sigh. From the outside, the clearing was empty. If his father, or anyone else, ever tried to enter it they'd be struck with a sudden headache so fierce they'd forget what they were doing in the first place.

But Beron would never bother with this corner of the autumn court. A place where the High Lady used to play in her childhood. Inside it, hidden from prying eyes, sat the ruins of a beloved hand-made play house. And beside it, two gravestones.

There were no bodies buried here, only the stones for visiting and remembering. Away from cruel brothers and guards who would only ever be loyal to the High Lord. Away from that complex world of secrets and games, weaving as wide as the halls of the sprawling Forest House and wider all the time. Here, it could be simple for a moment.

Eris ran his hand across one of the gravestones and murmured a blessing. His fingertips brushed over the name carved into it.

Jesminda

He wondered about her sometimes. What her family had been told about her death. If they knew anything at all, if they blamed Lucien for it. Nevertheless, the flowers he had sent to Jesminda's family on her birthdays were always anonymous. It was something he did more for himself than anyone else. But he did it anyways, though it did little to lessen the deep well of guilt inside him. Neither did enchanting the flowers that grew on her grave to never wilt or die. Forever blooming, like Jesminda was supposed to be.

Eris knelt on the ground before the other gravestone. His hound sat next to him and leaned into his side, as if she remembered what it meant when they came here and knew he would need the support. Eris mindlessly stroked the little beast's fur and lost himself in his memories.

This second stone was not marked. He could not have anyone carve it. Some knew of Jesminda's story -- Lucien's young love and her untimely death. But no one would ever know of Sebastian, the one who held Eris's heart. No one but Beron. And Lucien, the nosy busybody.

It was Beron's doing that no one knew of Sebastian. Jesminda, he could turn into an example. But Sebastian's existence infuriated and shamed Beron so thoroughly that he had any evidence of his life wiped from the Autumn Court. Like mud scrubbed from the palace's polished floors.

Sometimes Eris wondered if his father had gone as far as to have Sebastian's family's memories erased. If Beron had known that his youngest son was in on the secret, Lucien would surely have been made to forget. But Beron would not make Eris forget. Eris's punishment was to remember.

Of course, it was Eris's fault. He thought he could juggle it all, keep it all secret and safe. But Beron had found the one loose thread and pulled until he had discovered the whole truth and Sebastian was lost to him forever. Perhaps part of him had hoped Beron would not react so terribly. After all, Sebastian was from a noble family. He was proper and polite and trained perfectly. An ideal match for a High Lord. Except, of course, that he was male.

A tear slipped down Eris's cheek. This was the reason for the impenetrable wards. So he could let his tears fall and not immediately be torn apart. He let out a bitter laugh as he remembered his reputation -- cold, petty, and unfeeling. And yet here he was, crying over the empty grave of his lost love and a lesser fae girl he had barely known.

It was Morrigan who had started that reputation, keeping his character in a chokehold with the stories she spread about him. Twisted and incomplete, painting him in such a cruel light.

Such dark bitterness filled him with the memory of the Night Court. He thought about them often, more than they deserved. More than he wanted to. Like it was a habit.

That infernal inner circle, drunk on happiness that he would never have. Even brooding Azriel had more tenderness in his life than Eris could ever hope for. Azriel, who had wrapped his hands around Eris's throat and kept squeezing, even as Eris laid still and did not fight back. He had not wanted to spit those venomous words. Had not wanted to taste them in his mouth. But Beron was always watching, and he must keep up the appearance of a grudge against Morrigan, his "ruined" bride. So Eris let himself be Azriel's punching bag just for the show, knowing that he deserved it anyways.

But then Azriel had the gall to act like a wounded animal, comforted and calmed by the High Lady. He had sat by her, been served by her. And none of their circle seemed to see how ridiculous it looked, watching them all play house together at a High Lord's meeting. It was a joke, all of it.

An inner circle that would die for him. A mate that would tear apart courts for him. A city of peace filled with lovely trivial things, plagued by only the smallest of worries.

And he wanted it. All of it.

"You're all I've got, Marigold," He whispered to his hound as she laid her head in his lap. "You're my inner circle."

Eris shook all thoughts of the Night Court from his head as he noticed a glint of Emerald green among the goldenrods planted over Sebastian's grave. He pulled a little velvet box from among the flowers and golden ring blinked back at him when he opened it.

He held it close to his eye to examine, and found that a word had been carved into the inside of the ring. Written in an old and mostly dead language. Memories came to him of he and Lucien learning that language to use as a code, one their father couldn't read.

Sebastian.

A smile tugged at his lips. When he slipped the ring on his finger, it vanished completely. It looked as if he wore nothing at all. He had no idea how long it had been there waiting for him, but the metal of the enchanted ring reminded him of a certain redhead's golden eye. The only other one who knew of this place and what Eris had lost. If it wasn't him, then the ring was not a gift at all but a threat from someone who had discovered his deepest secret.

He held the ring in his palm for Marigold to inspect. She gave it sniff and turned away disinterested. Golden light filled Eris's chest. It had been left by Lucien.

In the blink of an eye, the world became much less bleak. The air even felt a bit warmer. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the gravestone and then stood,  Marigold immediately at attention by his side. He said goodbye with his usual prayer and slipped the ring on his finger, practically skipping back to the forest path. And he clung tightly to that sunrise in his heart. The closest thing to hope he could allow.

Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil, feel no pain. Go and enter eternity.

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

Art thou jealous of my 1390s drip?

The hood is done! I'm so thrilled with how it turned out. Project details below the cut! Probably the best possible ratio of investment to satisfaction.

The hood was a hand me down in the vein of "made for a teen and now too small for normal adults" that is where a lot of my garb comes from. It's heavy gray wool on the outside, the red inside is maybe wool or maybe cotton flannel. A little moth eaten, definitely showing some wear and age. Functional, but plain.

I wove the trim myself on a lucet, from red wool yarn I got at a thrift shop (that i barely put a dent in!). It's flat cord made with a half-hitch. I learned the stitch in late October and started the cord on the 23rd to pass time at Nebraskon. I probably had enough by Halloween, but kept weaving anyway.

Once I fiddled the shapes into place with a million pins, actually locking it down was as easy as a running stitch through the center of the cord. The yarn is thick and loosely woven enough that the thread just vanishes!

As a bonus, I was able to fuss the leaf placement to hide (and reinforce) some of the most threadbare spots!

With next to zero monetary input I turned a plain, worn hand-me-down into a striking part of my wardrobe that I'm excited to wear. I also learned and practiced a new skill that I'm itching to start applying to other projects!

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

~

Part 5 - Poker Face 

“That was a bit…better,” Neteyam said, trying not to crack a smile. “Try again. Com-pu-tor. Computer.”

“Kum-po-tuh,” Xilä mimicked, trying her best to enunciate. 

“Better. What is a computer?”

“A device used to store or share or create information- day-ta.” Xi frowned. “Wait so if it does that then is it not the same thing as the tahbleet? How do they look so different yet do the same thing?” she asked, confused looking at the strange device he’d shown her not even five minutes ago. 

“The tablet. And yeah, you’re right…Think of it like a leaf and a bowl- we use them both to eat but yet they are very different. See? Both devices can do the same yet they are different…”

She grinned up at him with a little tilt of her head and he found himself returning the gesture. He realized she did that a lot more now. Smile. She laughed and giggled a lot too and he seemed to want to hear it all the time. It was his favourite sound and her nose would scrunch up in the cutest way too. 

“Is that funny to you?” he grinned, poking her side and getting a giggle in response. 

“A little,” she said- her nose scrunching up just the way he liked it. 

As they strolled further into the empty lab, she ran forward, in awe. With rapt attention at each new thing she saw, she asked him question after question. 

Spotting Grace, Xi moved to peer through the machine housing the floating Na’vi. “Kiri’s mother,” she said softly. “Hi Grace,” she whispered.

Neteyam observed Xilä fixated, “She told you?”

“Yes, she said she wanted to introduce us…Grace is so beautiful. Kiri looks just like her,” she murmured, pressing her palms against the glass.

“You two getting on okay?” asked Norm who walked in, in his Avatar body. 

Xi clammed up and shuffled closer to Neteyam as the man drew nearer. Neteyam fought an amused smirk when she suddenly turned shy, reaching out to fiddle with a loose thread on the side of his warrior belt to avoid the newcomer. 

“Yeah, Norm we’re good. We’re exploring the labs today. Hey since you’re here, can you show her what you worked on? The research on Li’ona?”  

“Hell yeah! It’s Xi right? Well, welcome to my world,” he said with his arms stretched out as he turned to walk to the other side of the room. “If you’ll follow me-” 

A small hand clutched his fingers and Neyetam almost stumbled when he realized it was Xilä. His head snapped to hers and she looked him right in the eyes with a little smile- she was nervous. 

He squeezed her fingers in response and gave her an encouraging expression. “You got this,” he mouthed silently. 

If Norm thought it was weird they held hands, he didn’t show it. 

“So this is a map of Pandora.” He typed into a computer and a holographic map appeared. “And this…is Li’ona.”

“Wow,” Xi whispered in awe of the amazing technology, taking a step forward. 

Neteyam immediately felt the loss when she released his hand to have a closer look, he wanted to snatch it right back up.

Norm pointed out a few things to her on the map then went on a long winded rave about “climate change” and “precipitation”, “droughts” and something called, “atmospheric conditions.” 

Suffice to say it all went right over her head. 

She did perk up once more when he started speaking normally again. 

“-so yeah we’re basically stumped. I did talk to some of the Omatikaya elders to see if anything like this ever happened in their time but they all say the same thing.”

“And what is that?” she asked intrigued, her ears twitching as she stared at the oldly dressed Avatar. 

“They say Li’ona’s been abandoned by Eywa. They think the people have dishonoured her in some way- and I mean, I’m kinda willing to bet on that at this point. There’s literally no other scientific explanation for the cease of rains. Over twenty fives years of no rain? That sounds like Eywa’s doing to me,” he shrugged helplessly. 

“Oh….Well, thank you for showing me Norm and thank you for all your hard work.” 

He lit up from her thanks. “Oh, yeah. Anytime. It’s no prob-lemo,” he winked. 

Momentarily distracted, he turned back to the monitor to type something. 

Xi pursed her lips in contemplation, there was a guilty feeling bubbling in her chest. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Neteyam asked quietly as he stood beside her. His hand crept under her hair to cup her neck gently, thumb brushing below her ear. 

She turned and stared up at him with those brilliant orbs of hers. “I just realized something ‘Teyam and I feel guilty about it,” she whispered, clutching his wrist. “You will think I am terrible.”

He frowned. “I could never think that Xilä. Never, alright?” 

“I do not care.”

“Hm?” His frown deepened- not understanding. 

“About Li’ona I mean. I do not care about them anymore. I do not care what will happen to the people left. I do not care if Eywa has deserted them. I do not care if their lands never flourish once more. There is nothing in here,” she said, laying her free palm against her heart. “I should care, but I don’t.”

“Then don’t,” Neteyam said, seriously. “And don’t feel guilty about it either, okay? You don’t have to care if you don’t want to. This is your home now anyway.” 

Touched by his words, she stepped forward and hugged him in response- her forehead slotting into the space between his pec and shoulder blade, slim arms wrapping around his waist. 

Norm, catching their sweet moment, grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Neteyam over Xi’s head. 

Neteyam simply rolled his eyes at him and hugged Xi closer without care, leaning down to hide his smile in her hair. She felt perfect in his arms.

The rest of their visit was eventful. Norm cracked jokes with Xilä and got her to open up, he showed her how the Avatar bodies worked, then introduced himself to her in his human form. They even managed to practise some English together. 

“That was fun actually,” she chirped as Neteyam walked her back to Salveen and Jxo’s. “Heh-lo how ah ew,” she practised, curling her index finger around his pinky so she could swing their arms together as they strolled.  

“I am fine, thank you. How are you?” he smirked, enjoying her little giggle. 

“I am ha-peee too-nite,” she grinned, looking around in wonderment at the woodspirits  littered in the air. 

He stared at her as she twirled away, reaching her hands up for a woodspirit to land in her palms. 

There was no one else but the two of them in that moment- she was all he saw. 

“......I am happy too,” he admitted. And it was the truth. 

Neteyam was completely content. 

He was happy. 

~

Xi grinned as she checked out the cards in her hands. 

“You’ve got a terrible poker face Xilä,” Lo’ak said with a smirk, and Spider snorted in response. 

“I can’t help it! Don’t look at me then.”

“That’s not how it works, Xi,” he grinned, “you have to pay attention to your opponent’s tells.” 

“Okay, well pretend I am not grinning then,” she said, raising the cards to try and hide her face without success- she was having fun, how could she possibly not smile? 

Both boys cackled at her antics. 

Her and Neteyam’s lessons were on hold for the day because he had been called in for an important meeting with the council. 

Although he did still come over that morning and ate breakfast with her, which made her quite happy. But admittedly- she truly missed him. She already didn’t like whenever they had to part ways every afternoon after her lessons ended. 

“Can we play Go Fish instead?” Tuk pouted, pushing her hand of cards away. “I don’t like poker.” 

“After this round Tuk, we’re teaching Xi a very important life lesson here.” 

Spider nodded solemnly in agreement. “Exactly. Bluffing is the key to a successful life…the winnings are pretty great also,” he said with a grin from ear to ear as he slammed his cards on the table then proceeded to pull the pile of takings towards him. 

Those winnings included a mismatched collection of a small whittled figurine, a few of Salveen’s famous sari cakes and some pretty colourful glass stones from the river.  

Lo’ak sighed at his loss, tossing his losing cards down too. “Alright. One more round. All or nothing.” 

The guys had a day off and so they decided to pop in on her for a while before they went off to do their exploring. They came armed ready with a pilfered deck of cards they said they “borrowed from Norm,” and one very excited Tuktirey who had followed her brother all the way here. 

Tuk had finally grown bored enough it seemed. She wandered closer to Xilä, and began playing in her hair, twisting and braiding the strands with clumsy but determined little fingers- a tiny tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration. 

“Is my brother still being a hard-ass with you?” Lo’ak asked, as he shuffled the deck. “He’s tough as heck when he runs our drills. Half the team usually hates him by the time we’re done.”

“Sometimes,” Xi responded, careful to keep her head still for Tuk, “but I know he means well. He’s a great teacher really, I enjoy our lessons.”

He and Spider shared a look. “Yeah okay I’ll take that as a no then.” 

“What do you mean?” she frowned as she accepted her dished out cards, fanning them out the way Spider taught her to. 

“Nothing,” he sang with a knowing grin. 

Spider snickered, “Ignore him Xi, he’s just trying to stir up something he has no business trying to. Alright you’re up.” He nodded at her to start the game. 

One more round turned into two, which turned to four and soon they had practically spent almost all morning sitting around Salveen and Jxo’s table as they bickered and joked with each other. 

Tuk ran off a few minutes ago to raid her stash of beads at home so that she could make Xi’s hair “extra beautiful” which made Xi laugh. She’d truly grown fond of the six year old and her silliness. 

Although they had gotten off to a rocky start, she and Lo’ak became fast friends, much to Neteyam’s dismay at times. Lo’ak could be rebellious and wild and in true Lo’ak fashion, he was always trying to find a way to include her in his hijinks. 

One time last month he had taken her along with him and Spider to practise their shots. Shots, she soon realized, meant using a human invention called a machine gun, and not her silly little practice bow and arrows. 

To say Neteyam was livid about the entire ordeal was a joke. When he found them in the clearing they'd snuck off too, he immediately grabbed the gun Lo’ak had been teaching her to hold and shoved it back into his brother's chest. He all but snarled at Lo’ak and Spider, followed by a slew of very creative curses. 

With one last, “what the hell is wrong with you two?” he entwined his fingers with hers and dragged her out of there with a disappointed, “seriously sweetheart? What were you thinking going along with those skxawngs?” 

Lo’ak and Spider, took Neteyam’s vexation in stride, calling out a series of, “You’re no fun bro!” and “Don’t worry Xi, you’ll get a turn next time!”

Before she knew it five months had flown by. Her circle of friends and acquaintances had widened, she no longer felt uncomfortable around the crowds at dinnertime, or nervous to walk through Home Camp. People would stop her to engage in conversation, or invite her to events. 

She even went to her third communion for one of Salveen’s friends' grandsons just last week.

On an afternoon after Neteyam usually dropped her off, if she wasn’t at Salveen’s side helping to prepare the dinner feast with the other cooks, she was at the healer tents, unofficially studying under Mo’at’s wing. 

The two women had quickly become the mother figures she had always wanted while Jxo, the gruff but sweet elderly man became the father figure she never knew existed. 

One day Kiri had expressed to her that she too never had many girl friends- if any. Pretty much after that they’d usually have a weekly sleepover or two, which involved a lot of giggling and gossiping which Kiri described as “girl talk”.

Neteyam usually got chastised for trying to worm his way into Kiri’s sectioned off room, under the pretence of “just checking in” to which Kiri would sass back, “You had her all day, she’s mine now. Get out.”

Jake and Neytiri were another story entirely. They were both intimidating to say the least, yet they treated her as if she were already one of their own- as if their son wasn’t still training her to learn their ways. 

Jake had her laughing so hard one night, tears leaked from her eyes as he told her stories about his own experience learning the Omatikaya ways- about his own clumsiness and accidents. Even about his “strict teacher” who seemed to have the motto “learn trying or die.” 

Neytiri had simply rolled her eyes fondly at her husband and responded by saying, “he is exaggerating Xi.” 

In those following months Xilä had only seen her father from afar a handful of times. Not once had he come to visit and she found that didn’t care. 

Because life was good and she was happy. 

Xilä was at peace. 

She had found her home. 

~

The Omatikaya’s forest echoed with the sounds of life……and grunts.  

Xi growled as she tried to punch another blow at her attacker, failing from a clumsy trip and falling to the forest floor with an, “Umpf!”

Neteyam flicked his hair back- braids swaying dramatically as he shot her a disappointed look. “You’re moving too erratically, brisk deliberate moments remember? Stop second guessing yourself.”

She scowled, as she panted. They’d been at it for hours now. How hadn't he broken a sweat yet? He wasn’t even out of breath! 

“You’re sloppy today. Are you practising your breathing exercises? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it. You’re not even trying at this point Xilä.”

“I am trying!” she snapped, “but you keep blocking my hits.”

Hands on his hips, he pursed his lips unimpressed. “Xilä-”

“I know I know, my attacker wouldn’t care. Can’t we go back to archery? I like that better than when we do hand to hand combat.” 

“No. Now get up, let’s go again.” 

“But I'm good at that one! You said it yourself…natural talent.”

“Xilä.” His tone was firm. “Can we get this done already?”

She frowned up at him, from her sprawled position on the ground. “Why are you so prickly today?”

He huffed. “Prickly?” 

“Yes! All day you have been prickly! Practically since you picked me up this morning! You were rude to Salveen when she asked you to stay for breakfast, you keep muttering strange things under your breath when you think I can’t hear, you’ve got a permanent scowl on your face- hence I say prickly. You are brooding Neteyam…and not very nice at all if you ask me.”

“Good, I'm glad you are finally learning that I am not nice. I never claimed to be,” he hissed. “Now get up…please.”

She obeyed, dusting her hands off as she shot him a concerned look. “Are you alright ‘Teyam? Has- has something happened?” she asked, shuffling closer to him. 

“No. I’m fine,” he said shortly. “Assume position, we will try the same sequence again.”

“No.”

“Xilä! For Eywa sake will you just- !” 

“You want me to complete this lesson?”

“Yes!” he hissed impatiently.  

“And aren’t we friends?”

“Wha- God Xi. Yes okay?!” 

“Then be my friend and just tell me if something is bothering you. We will get nowhere with you being like this.”

Neteyam slumped his shoulders and hung his head with a snicker. He couldn’t help shooting her a proud look. Gone was the timid little Na’vi who would flinch at every move he made. Despite the situation, he was quite pleased that she was comfortable enough to stand up to him like this- to say no. 

“Yes Xi. Something is bothering me, alright? I didn’t realize I was taking it out on others. I’ll stop now.”

She squinted at him with the tilt of a head. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No…..maybe,” he said indecisively. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” she decided. 

“……Fine. I tell you and then we finish this lesson, agreed?”

“Agreed,” she echoed, biting down on her smile of success.  

He walked over and casually leaned his side against a tall, thick plant, brushing off specs of wet moss from the front of his loincloth. 

She followed him and did the same, fighting hard to not glance at the hard panes of muscle on his abdomen. She did that a lot lately- she didn’t need him catching on.  

“I’m sorry if I’ve been prickly,” he said sincerely before continuing, “I didn’t like what the council had to say in my meeting yesterday.” 

“Oh. Are they upset with something you’ve done?” she asked, concerned. 

“Mmm, more like something I haven’t done yet,” he said, reaching out to remove a small twig that was tangled in her braid. Her hair had gotten longer, he noticed. 

“Well that’s not cryptic at all,” she sassed. 

He scoffed at her response, sending a flick to her thigh with his tail. “Your friendship with Spider and my brother keeps worrying me more and more every day.”

She grinned. “Sorry. Okay, okay, continue.”

“I have an important decision to make soon,” he said, turning serious again. “It’s impending and I’m unsure what to do about it. There are a lot of expectations riding on this and… depending on the choice I make, I will either please many people and make myself unhappy… or make myself happy but disappoint many.”

Her face softened and she reached out to hook her index finger around his large pinky in comfort. “That sucks. I’m sorry, ‘Teyam.”

He shrugged, with a sad smile. “Well it’s to be expected. I am the chief’s son after all,” he joked self deprecatingly. 

“It must be tough, having all that responsibility…it seems like a lot of pressure if you ask me.” She reached up with her other hand to smooth a finger against the frown on his face. “You get a little crinkle right here every time you worry. I don’t like it,” she murmured. 

He grinned at that. 

“Now see…so much better already,” she said, lighting up at his expression. 

He let out a breathy laugh and she found herself liking it much more than she probably should. As her eyes traced over his now relaxed features, she felt a little swoop in her tummy and she found that she could not look away. 

“Thank you. I needed that,” he said, holding her gaze. 

“Needed what?” she asked distractedly. 

His attention flickered down to her lips fleetingly when he heard her change in tone. He blinked just realizing how close they were standing together, how easy it would be for him to-

He shook his head, as if that would erase the sudden thought in his mind. “You know, to talk about it, get it out- what I was feeling…A good laugh always helps too,” his speech slowed as he continued to stare.  

Their locked gazes turned heated and the air was charged- both feeling the same thing. 

Neteyam kept flickering between her pouty lips and brilliant eyes while she stared up at him as if he hung the moon itself. 

“Well you know the saying… ” she murmured, and he nearly groaned out loud at the sound of her voice, it had turned low, almost husky. 

“What saying?” he asked vaguely, unaware he was leaning in. 

“What are friends for?…Spider taught it to me,” she said, in near whisper. 

“Mhm, friends are the best…” he replied, his tone matching hers- he wasn’t sure he was even aware of what he was saying anymore. 

Neteyam tried. He truly did. 

Yet he couldn’t help himself could he? 

Because the next thing he knew, he was shuffling closer, caging her against the massive stem of the plant with a hand above her head. She inhaled deeply and her heartbeat sped up as he tilted downward- their faces a mere inches apart. 

“Neteyam,” she whispered almost inaudibly, wetting her lips in anticipation. 

The moment he brushed a featherlight kiss against her lips, her eyes fluttered shut. He cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly, as if she were delicate- breakable. 

It was over before she knew it and the soft expression he shot her as he pulled away caused the little swoop in her tummy to somersault.

He cleared his throat as he straightened up, eyes diverted. Awkwardly scratching the back of his head he gestured to the clearing. “We should um- are you ready to finish the lesson?”

She grinned, and followed him with a little spring in her step. “If we must.”

~

It was later that week after a long morning on the trails and while they munched on the meal he packed for them that he finally broached a topic he knew she was daunting. 

“The next Iknimaya ceremony is in the next two moons,” he stated simply, after he had his final bite of food.

She froze mid chew, cheeks a bit puffy, from the food in her mouth, tail slowed from its happy little wag. “So?” 

He held a laugh- her new found sass was too much for him sometimes. “We’re almost getting closer to the end of your lessons, Xi.”

Xilä didn’t like where he was going with this already. 

“Look I know you don’t like flying, but I don’t think you should rule out all your opportunit-”

“Your mother said I didn’t need to perform the ceremony to complete my lessons and secure my place,” she said panicked. 

“And you don’t, that’s still a factor,” he soothed, his tail circling her outstretched ankle in comfort.

“Then why do you want me to do it?”

“Because I think you can. I want to help you face your fears.”

She contemplated his words. “I don’t mind never having to fly again and in any case, don’t only warriors and hunters have ikrans? Isn’t Iknimaya only for-”

“Not necessarily no. Many others went through the rites for various reasons. Whether to prove it to themselves or- look it doesn’t matter. Kiri’s got one,” he pointed out. “…but then again she is a special case.” 

Trying to derail the topic she asked, “How is she a special case?”

“Because she did not have to struggle like anyone else. My sister simply walked into a nest of ikrans and asked one to claim her.”

Xi gaped, impressed. “Is that because of her special connection with Eywa?”

Neteyam nodded. “Now come on Xi, tell me what you think?”

Xi swallowed another bite and cleared her throat. “I don’t know ‘Teyam, can’t you just let me complete my lessons without it? I definitely know I won’t choose warrior or hunter and I don’t mind having a fear of flying…. So we can skip it. Please?”

Neteyam snorted, and released her ankle. “Nope,” he said, popping the P with a devilish smirk as he took a swig of water from their shared water pouch. He stretched out on his back against the forest floor, one hand propped behind his head.

“Why not?” she whined. 

“Because Xi, I already told you. I think you have it in you,” he shrugged, closing his eyes contentedly. “I’m pushing you. Deal with it.”

Abandoning her leaf wrapped meal, she crept closer to him. “Neteyam.” 

He was ignoring her, but the hint of a smirk and the twitch of an ear told her he was enjoying himself. 

“Neteyam,” she called again, kneeling at his side, peering closer as if it would make him open his eyes. She huffed at his attics, hiding her own smile. He could be silly when he was ready, and seeing him like this in these little moments made her feel giddy. 

With a serge of courage tinged with curiosity, she leaned in- balanced with a palm to his chest and pressed her lips to his. His eyes shot open in shock but he did not move away. If anything he closed his eyes again and kissed her right back, one large palm anchoring in her hair. 

This kiss, unlike their first unspoken one, was exploratory. 

She paid attention to what he did, how he moved, trying to mimic his actions with her own lips. Xi sighed against him when he tugged her closer, tilting his head to the right while she moved to the left. 

Neteyam hummed against her lips, she could feel his smile against hers. When she pulled back she licked her lips- slightly dazed. The full blown heated gazed he laid on her caused the stirring between her legs to pulse. 

“What are you trying to do sweetheart?” he taunted, squinting up at her suspiciously. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“What? N- wait…is it working?” she asked hopefully. 

Tossing his head back, he cracked up loudly. “Not even a little Xi. We’ll start training next week. Now come on, you're supposed to be practising your English.” 

She pouted petulantly. “I do not like you today,” she said in perfect English.

Neteyam grinned. “Well I like you,” he teased as he sat up, reaching out to pull her close by the nape of her neck. And even though he knew he shouldn’t have, even though he knew it should have never happened before in the first place, he kissed her. 

They ended up not getting any English lessons done that afternoon. They sat and made out until it was way past the time for them to get back. 

He had to stifle his amusement when he swiped his tongue against her lips for the first time, she was shocked to say the least, judging by her little surprised squeak. 

Then when he licked into her mouth- his tongue tangling with hers, she had pulled away looking completely scandalized by what he had done. Her facial expression alone had caused him to exhale a laugh as he grinned into her cheek. 

And although she was momentarily shocked, she was quickly leaning in for more- gasping when he began to bite and suck on her bottom lip.

She was fucking adicting he thought- all sweet and delicious, it was difficult for him to stop. So he didn’t. 

When they finally arrived back at her tent, that afternoon, Salveen had made him bend so she could reach to smack him upside the head like a naughty little Na’vi. 

She scolded him for not only his rudeness towards her that morning but also for bringing Xilä back home so late. 

He hid his smirk behind a cough when she asked, “What in Eywa’s name were you two doing for so long? Xilä and I have plans.”

Thank goodness for the elder’s terrible attention span. She moved to throw on a beaded shawl the exact moment Xi had turned a pretty shade of purple, unable to conceal her reaction like him. 

He pressed a quick kiss against her cheek in goodbye while the elder’s back was still turned, loving the way her blush deepened. 

As he made a dash out the exit, he could hear Salveen’s concerned fussing over Xilä. “Xi, darling are you unwell? You look quite flushed.”

Neteyam went easy on his trainee students that evening for the first time ever. 

~

I'm here I made it! I apologize for my tardiness and any errors I missed in my haste to post this.

But you guyssss. They kissed! Eeeeep!

Okay as usual, lemme know what you think.

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen @granddearduck @riatesullironalite @strawberri-blonde

[kell-stitches]

Tutorial: How to make 3D embroidered thistles

I'll start by saying that these are not the easiest element to create. It took me some experimenting to develop the technique and practice to actually make them well. I'll do my best to explain everything and I promise it will take a few tries, but trust the process and you'll be fine. They add such a beautiful and unique element to a piece so they’re worth the effort to learn

First, begin with the shape of your thistle. The middle bulb shape and lower leaf shape are what you'll actually be stitching, while the upper fan shape is more just for sizing reference

You'll want to measure the length of the thistle from the base of the bulb shape to the highest arc of the fan shape. It's not a bad idea to add a little extra length to account for trimming later on. Remember, you can always take away length, but you can’t add so it’s better to be generous. I went with 2 inches here

Next, using cardstock or cardboard, cut out a rectangle the size of the thistle you measured in the last step (2 in for me). Choose your color thread for the thistle fluff. I like using a mix of a dark and light purple to give it more depth 

Wrap your threads continuously around the rectangle. I don't have an exact amount of times for this, just whatever feels right. When finished, use a threaded needle to create a tie at the bottom of the wrap and keep all the threads together

After you've made the tie, use a sharp pair of scissors to cut through the opposite end of the wrap. When you remove it from the rectangle, you should have this sort of folded pompom. Keep all the loose ends pointing up and the tie at the bottom

Place the pompom on your fabric, lining the tie with the bottom of the bulb shape with the loose ends facing up towards the fan shape. Make a straight stitch across with green thread where the bulb shape starts to secure the pompom in place. Create a series of similar straight stitches to help guide the shape and keep the pompom in place. You want the stitches tight enough to be secure, but not so tight as to really alter the shape so be a little gentle here

Keep making straight stitches until the whole pompom is covered with your green thread. Things may get a little tricky towards the bottom, but just take your time and stitch carefully and you'll be able to cover it properly

With the body down, let's work on the fluff. Gently brush the sharp end of your needle through the threads to help them separate and disperse. At this point, you'll notice some uneven threads at the top of the fluff. Just use your scissors to cut them away until you have a nice smooth arc (this is where the extra length comes in handy). You can repeat these steps until everything is neat

Lastly, use some simple straight stitches to fill in the leaf shape at the bottom. This last detail is rather small so you don't need stress too much over it, just get the general look of it and you'll be golden

Et violà! I know that's a lot of information to take in, but take your time and practice and I promise you'll be making them effortlessly! I hope this tutorial has helped! Happy stitching!

[skxllz]

I can see lip meeting a little rich girl at a college party, not even realizing just house high class she was cause she dressed like some chick outta’ an 80's movie.

a flowy maxi skirt with a slit in the leg, loose fitting tank with spaghetti straps and pretty lace trim. hair done all crazy, all kinds of dangly chains around ‘er neck and an array of thread bracelets going up her arm.

she's moving so elegantly with the music playing in the background, almost like a wave within the ocean or a leaf in the body of a breeze. hips swaying, only to melodically flow in and out in a wiggle. arms slung above her head, one hand grasped to the inner crease of her elbow while her hips and body swirl; moving effortlessly smooth in a circle.

it has lip in awe. all he can watch is her. you.

and then, and then— he catches your eye. you send him an inviting smile, before beckoning him over with a draw of your finger. lip's sent for a spin, but he's making his way over in seconds and yelling an introduction over the music.

you grasp his shoulders gently, your ringed fingers snuggly fitting over the fabric of his button up; squeezing as you lean in to his ear. his breath is swept away once you whisper your own name, leaving behind many questions and wonders and a sense of want in your wake once you pull back.

lip knows then and there he wants to get to know you. not just know what's under that skirt of yours.

[fellamarsh]

Want to keep reading? The first four chapters of Taker of the Third Path are available for free!

If you want to be among the first to read the novel - and get a lot of fun extras out of the deal - consider backing the ✨Taker of the Third Path Kickstarter!✨

(Image description and transcript under the cut)

(Image ID: The first image is a banner with a foggy, forested background, mountains rising in the distance and birds flying just above the trees. "Taker of the Third Path" is written in large red text across the center, with smaller black text reading "A queer fantasy romance novel" beneath it. The second image is an excerpt from the prologue of Taker of the Third Path. End image ID.)

Text transcript:

The spiral spins away in the same movement that it turns back.

A priest and a hedgewitch—both one man—tramped down the wide forest road with customary resolve, following the long unspooling thread laid out by his god. This thread oriented him. If asked, he would say he admired the trees reaching across empty earth and stone to lace their delicate, branching fingers together overhead—that he watched the light that filtered between them, slanted orange with afternoon, as it performed its subtle, dappled dance across the ground. The canopy was a patchwork of red and rust and yellow, a bright blaze of life before leaf-fall that he did not miss.

And it was true that he saw these things. True, that his thoughts meandered over the people he had said goodbye to when he left Art Ehnk’telin, the northeastern most of the continent’s great Elven cities, days earlier. He’d spent one of his longer stints there, a full three months. It was only natural that he’d formed some loose attachments.

But these perceptions, these thoughts, these questings outward, were always drawn back in by that red thread wrapped tightly around the fist of the priest’s heart. That thread drew him inexorably forward—like gravity or magic, which are one and the same—into the future, along the slow spiral axis of the seasons. He was, at all times and despite appearances, rushing forward. Eager to widen his own spiral.

[doawk]

He opened the door.

What stood outside was...something he had never actually seen before - something wearing a cartoon-like leaf costume, with clear damage from past events written all over it. They seemed to have been humming a soft tune, before realizing David had answered.

They grinned with human-like teeth, quickly scanning him up and down while he was still in a shock.

"You must be that new guy Mr. Speaker Box was talking about!" They clasped their hands together happily, "Its so so so NICE to finally meet you! Oh- you must be still so rattled from the events of last night, but I assure you, you are safe from any more dangerous storms here on Goiky!"

They paused, wide-eyed.

"Oh- foolish me! I forgot to introduce myself." they stuck out a felt hand, loose "skin" showing the bones underneath somewhat.

"My name is Leafy! Member of the Squashy Grapes!"

David nervously reached a hand out to shake hands, feeling even more offput by the warmth emitting from the limb - despite there being no pulse present in the being that stood before him, and no possible flesh either.

"Um, I'm...David. David Darcy."

The beings smile dropped - confusion seeping in.

"David? That's a weird object name, is it just that nickname trend that's been going around recently?" they said, words that genuinely seemed like they came from a place of pure curiosity.

-------------------------------------

concept for yet another bfdi horror thing. a more unsettling ver of bfdi told from the pov of this version of david - a human(oid) who crashes onto Goiky during a massive storm. somethin somethin weird birds twitter thread somethin somethin