#sometimes i see flames and sometimes i see people that i love dying. sometimes i see flames and sometimes i see people that i love dying. s | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

Note

- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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sunofpandora · 4 months

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Heyyy so I saw your requests post and I’ve been dying to get this one off my chest, so how about a neteyam x omaticaya! warrior! reader where reader’s a fierce warrior (maybe a protege of one of the higher ups). And we all know Neteyam (the mighty warrior lol) is strong and also one of the best their age, but what if Neteyam had such intense feelings for her that all he wants to do is impress her but whenever she comes around he gets all klutzy and flustered? And of course she finds it funny and cute and all that jazz. Just fluff I NEED FLUFF

P.s. The decision to fulfill this request is yours and I won’t be upset if you decide you don’t want to. As long as you’re comfortable, all’s fine by me.

But yeaaa have a good day/night :)

Authors note:

Hi babes!

So I loved this request so much! So I decided to make my very first actual long series! ‘Virago’ is going to be an original work and one of my first long projects. Unfortunately, I will not have a TON of time to do smaller requests in between chapters but i will def try! I’m very excited for this and i wouldn't have even considered this without the request so thank you so, so much.

V I R A G O

Part 1.

The Day the Sky Turned Red.

8.7k words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenx under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

When grief plagues the young warrior, Neteyam gives her a gift. But it is enough to console the flames in her heart?

Neteyam and reader having a sun x moon relationship (hello 'diaphanous’ readers <3)

Warnings: Descriptions of death/ parental death/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school.

Mentions of insecurity, blood, war, guns, reader being mommy/

I think that’s it?

Oh right, Reader fell first but neteyam fell WAY harder.

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when y/n was 15. Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk are the agesthey are in atwow for the first part of the story. They age up in part 2 (in story)

(Ka’lik is the name of Y/ns father, her mother’s name is Zensira. Both were warriors, but Zensira was the best songstress in the clan. (Ninat go cry to the plant in the corner))

Super important note for the request sender:

Hey gorgeous so ik you asked for fluff and don't worry babes. I hear ya loud and clear. Unfortunately the first part of this chapter will be a bit angsty bc the creative juice were flowing and i got carried away but I swear on my grave the rest is nothing but fluff and lovey dovey shenanigans,

Not proofread

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

To some, surrender was a comfort. A sanctuary of softly spoken submission.

To Y/n? It was a ‘bitch move’

3 years ago.

Day the sky people returned.

Y/n is 15-16

The Na’vi say, every person is born twice.

That we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the great mother.

That being truly evil doesn't mean just craving the pain of others.

That the life of a single diseased root does not kill the whole tree.

That darkness is deadly, because like the brothers and sisters of bountiful green that dwell in the great mother’s garden, we too need sunlight to grow.

Your mother always told you monsters aren't born from a seed.

They grow when they are deprived of light.

But sometimes, we find solace in even the darkest of places.

That sometimes there's comfort in the dense night. Where others see hell, you build a home.

Sometimes we thrive in darkness because we feel we do not deserve the glory of sunlight.

Is it wrong? Is it terrible of you?

To see light where the great mother’s grace and the violence of the sky demons collide?

Things that were not meant to tear the ground of our great mother’s delicate skin.

Their metals and turning wheels, their combat boots and weapons that scream and spit fire.

But did it belong in your hands?

Your father would say,

“Each person is a thread, weaved within a tapestry that tells a story.”

The thing about stories is that sometimes, they may not always end well, or worse, they end too early. Some people stretch the thread as far as they can, too unsettled to be spread too thin, too soon.

Change is fundamental. Mo’at reminded you “there is no death, only change”

A moral structure that refuses to be severed. You believe that's whats what distincts na’vi from the sky people. Humans are quite flawed creatures. Humans love to dream and dance about stars and rain because their planet refuses to cry for them any longer. Humans dwell with memories that are haunted with light that only exists in the past, lingering behind desire to relive. Humans are afraid of grief, or loss. Of the empty void that lingers behind the shadows. Humans love to selfishly cling to the fantasy they don't live in.

You will never understand why they put themselves through such violent tendencies. To torture themselves. To provide reach towards an unseen daydream just to rip it out of their hands.

Humans remain. Na’vi evolve.

Na’vi find solace within the endless sky. Burning with color, blazing infinite. Na’vi dance on the precipice of the clouds.

Grief came over like the waves grazing the tide, promising reassurance and return.

Violence was never a necessity. A lingering intrusion of a spark that refused to become a flame.

But what lies beyond the sky? Was there truly a shadow behind the sun?

When the embers refused to settle.

You found yourself infatuated with open spaces. Abundance found within indecipherable notions.

Cracks in the mountains. Small tears in the tapestry where light leaked through the canopy of the trees.

Nothingness was never a threat.

Not when the promise of warmth remained.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n met grief when she was only a child.

When she was 15, the RDA returned.

The day the sky turned red was the day the air smelled of sulfur and blood.

Gray and red were never a pretty combination.

The demon ship’s wings stirred the trees and a storm of dust arise,

Screaming, everyone running, the distant screeches of ikran and war cries.

The night your parents went out to gather some herbs, and never returned.

When the pale light of the moon became a blazing, scorching, blanket of blankness that simmered into a forest engulfed in white flames.

You found your mothers songcord on the ground the next morning.

Her body stained with red.

You stood next to Neteyam at your parent’s funeral.

You watched as Mo’ats hands guided the delicate floating Atokirina to rest upon your mothers chest as she murmured a prayer.

People have this inherent conception that the hardest part of grief is change.

The loss of warmth in the safest of places, when the shadows loom rather than live.

In reality, it's this unnamed feeling of a void.

Love is the amplification of a connection. Love distracts. It paralyzes you within its sanctuary of promises.

Grief feels like a shield with a hole blown through the middle. When the connection is shattered, and the sky is no longer protected without the scattered solace of the stars to veil the blank spaces.

Emptiness no longer infatuated you.

The sky without the stars is not a mystery anymore.

Neteyam held your hand. It didn't aid the hollowness within the cup of your palm. Guilt revenues in a realization, that even the great mother’s solace could not soothe this wound. This ache. This pain.

Neytiri’s soft sobs scorch the air with a soreness, the morning mist. Her fingertips, victims of bow strings and arrowhead edges gently brush the flowers placed around your mothers body.

Neytiri was your mother’s sister. Not biologically. Preservations in our blood don’t always remain unsevered when a bond is born.

Your mother sobbed with her when hometree collapsed. Helped unbraid her hair for her night with Jake. Your mother had saved Neytiri’s life.

All those years ago when the RDA invaded Grace's school. When her body trembled at the sight of sylwanins blood that painted the floor and the walls, your mother walling as she desperately tried to drag Neytiri away.

To have such a bond. The heartbeat of one another emplaced in your bones, to sing a goodbye song with cruel unmeasured melodies.

Jake held neytiri, gently rubbing circles onto her back, his own grievances had been paid due to earlier.

Kiri’s tear stained cheeks didnt go unnoticed. She stood close to her father, Tuk’s tiny body squished between them as Kiri sobbed into Jake's shoulder . Kiri had always admired your mother. Chasing her shadow like wisp catching the breeze ever since she was a child. A woman of eywa. A healer. A hunter. Her heartbeat reserved for her home. Her people. Her daughter.

Lo’ak had placed his own tribute to the small spread laid out before the gently laid corpses.

A small carved arrowhead.

Your father took over your mother’s job when she had other jobs to attend to, as being the one who trained a young group of warriors. Lo’ak included. He was patient with Lo’ak. Never discouraged him. A father liek mentorship had bloomed. So when his time came to join the great mother, Lo’ak contributed his own item of remembrance.

Lo’ak gave his arrowhead.

Tuk gave a small flower.

Kiri gave a small bundle of herbs the omaticaya believed was to aid the departing spirit on their journey.

Neytiri added a few carved beads from an anklet she wore. One your mother, Neytiri and Sylwanin had shared over the years, each of the three contributing beads or small trinkets to the piece.

Jake gave some beads as well. From a necklace your mother helped him make Neytiri when he struggled with the stringing of the oddly-shaped beads back when Jake was training for iknimiya, attempting to woo the young blue-skinned warrior he knew as neytiri.

All the omaticaya came to bear their gifts. Neteyam included, who gave you the gift of his warmth.

He cradled your hand in his, he raised it to his chest when the roots covered your parents bodies.

You’ve loved Neteyam for many years now. Watching him grow from a boy to a man.

You grew up next to the sullys. Your heights measured next to theirs as a child. Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, even little tuk had built a circle around you. You were a part of their lives. They were piece of yours.

You found him in an irregular-shaped void in your heart that only he could fit in. Nights were filled of him. His voice. His eyes. His hands. The curve of his nose and the coves of his lips.

His voice was made of tender summers. His eyes were liquid gold.

You saw him. You truly, truly saw him. Not the evascent shell of the perfect warrior or son made of stone.

You saw him in the bleak day and in the night. When reality rivaled your thoughts of him, when the warmth of his touch seemed ephemeral, the invisible interstellar you swore was not a figment of your fantasies. You settled yourself from afar. Sullied yourself with stains of shame from the secrets you kept from him. The thousands of words you harbored, right next to the stars you swore you would steal for him.

This unrepeatable pattern became tiring, something you yearned to touch but your hands couldnt reach.

To tug on the silver string that dangled from this disguise he wore. This mask. This ruse of your heart.

He was to find the perfect mate. The perfect woman, A women to be the closest to an eywa incarnate. That wasn’t you. That could never be you.

Perfect with no edges. No uncalled for curves ad no outward coves.

So you settled once again with the itching of your palms and the aching of your heart.

He was not yours.

Distance became a familiarity because distance was safe.

There was a time where the itching in your palms screamec for his. Now, his had felt hollow as it held yours now.

Grief was a funny thing.

You stood here, your skin feels more like a shell. Your mirror feels more like a window.

Staring at yourself with pity.

Such a weak thing she is.

Sobbing.

What once was warmth and abundant is now hollow and overcast by anguish.

You start to resonate with the corpses that once rested in your line of sight before the roots of the tree engulfed them.

Why is it that the sunlight denies you shelter?

Why must your whole become hollow? The ashes of what it once was line a new path.

Is the sun falling? Have the stars collapsed? Will anyone catch them for you?

What is this? This pain? This agony? Why must it overcast your morals? Your rationality of peace? This homage harbors the resdiual of what little warmth is salvaged from this sunset of black.

You feel the merciless fire in your veins. You want revenge. The cage of a Phoenix becomes an eternity of warmth.

Even with neteyam at your side, the stars are falling. And the sunlight feels cold.

⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆

Later that evening, the clan settled after Jake announced that his clan had to relocate to the Hallelujah mountains, where everyone would rebuild a stronghold and dwell with the loyal humans. To avoid any more bloodshed, Where the humans couldn't find you.

You sat in the Sully’s Marui, Neytiri behind you as you sat infront of the fire.

She rebraided your hair. You had mo’at and kiri unbraided for the funeral. Neytiri’s soft humming soothes you a bit, but your hands haven’t ceased their small tremors of shaking.

She gently runs her hands through your locks, placing a few beads on each braid.

Th hut is silent, Neteyam sits in the corner, he hasn’t spoken since after the funeral.

Tuk perches on Jakes lap asleep, Kiri at your side, rubbing your back. Lo’ak sat on the other side of you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“My sweet”

Neytiri’s melodic whisper whisked through the heavy gray.

“We leave in a few days time, at first light for our new home,”

She paused, her thought lingering behind a wall of hesitation, she exchanges a look with Jake, who nods at her, gently taking tuk of his lap for a moment,

“Y/n, hon, with what's occurred..-”

He waved one hand around, flicking his wrist against the air to try and demonstrate some kind of invisible concept.

But you know he was referring to your parents deaths.

“We don’t think you should be alone.” Jake adds. Neteyam nods with his dad’s words, attempting to gain some kind of partaking in this conversation without speaking.

Neytiri rests her hand on your shoulder, making Lo’ak lift his head to peer at you.

“What are you saying?”

It comes out as a breath, the unveiled remnants of the traumatic experience you had endured still fresh on your still-processing mind.

“Ma yawntu…We want you to stay with us when we settle in our new home. To stay in our home. We can take care of you.”

The warmth of the fire feels pale for a moment. I’ts vulnerability. Its shallow. Yet, Its deep, and dark, and you can’t see the bottom. Your’e left unguarded for a moment.

“I’ll be fine on my own-“

You pause when you realize how hoarse your voice sounds. you clear your throat, your gaze meeting Jake’s. His eyes soften a you an you can tell its pity. Something you would have considered affection becomes an insult. A weakness.

“I’ll be okay. I’m not helpless. I can provide for myself.”

Jake sighs and shakes his head, his words calm.

“Y/n. I know you are strong. Hell, youre one of the strongest i know, kid. But This is not something we’re going to let you carry alone, I made-”

He pauses, taking a breath, his head tilting down a bit and his eyes squeezing shut before he raises his head to continue.

“I made a promise. To the people. To the clan. To keep everyone safe. And to your parents, we would look out for you if anything ever happened.”

The lump in your throat is dry as you swallow.

Neytiri kisses your head gently.

“Ma yawntu, we will look after you..we will guide you on this path.”

She gently guides you to look at her bow in the corner.

“My father. He gave me that bow as he laid dying.”

The air becomes thick, even the moonlight seems to freeze with its slow creeping up the wall.

The only sound is the soft 3-beat melody of Tu’ks soft breathing as she sleeps, but her heavy eyes flutter open now and then as she nuzzles into jakes side.

Neytiri squeezes her hand on your shoulder to keep her voice from breaking, her chest tightening.

“He told me to protect the people.”

The pain in her voice breaks through the cracks in the walls that kept the shadows out, cages that kept the anger in.

“I owed your mother my life. I could not protect Zensira.

I have let the demons take another from me.”

The red in her voice stained the shadows behind ehr words, the sharp syllables in ‘demons’ evident, Kiri closed her eyes and winced at her mothers words, still holding your hand.

She took a breath and gazed at you.

“But yawntu, i will not let them take you. I will protect you. You have always been one of my own at heart. The skyships will not take that from us.

The familiar sting you felt only a few hours ago returned to your eyes along with the ache in your chest.

Jake nodded.

“We can be stronger together, Y/n. Let us look after you.”

The wisp of shallow aches still burn behind your heart but you nod, silently.

Lo’ak smiles in an attempt to lighten the load.

“Just like old times, sis. We used to have sleepovers all the time, now we get to have them every day.”

Neytiri was about to scold Lo’ak for his bluntness until she heard you chuckle,

Tuk’s big eyes blinked open as her tired voice mumbled.

“Now you can play with me more..and braid my hair..”

She mumbes as she smiles to herself. Jake chuckles and ruffles her short braids.

Kiri squeezes your hand and Neteyam’s gaze hasn’t left you since the beginning of the conversation.

You took a walk that night, creeping around the hammocks of the sleeping sully family as you quietly ventured outside the small camp village.

You stand under a tree, the moonlight leaks through the canopy as you start to count the stars. You wondered how the sky and the heavens could still be standing when your whole world had collapsed around you just earlier that day.

When you were small your mother wouldtell you not to pull pn the loose thread of her tapestries she wove. Because the more you pull, the fasfter it will fall apart.

Thats how you felt. One loose string being mercilessly tugged and and all the colors were fading away, you chased them, you chased them along with the falling stars but no one caught them for you.

Your heart has been thieved. Your light has been stolen.

Sin and soul seem to have a war under your skin, and the soft lllabies of the creatures of your planet seem to have more of a shriek-like quality.

Why did the colors go away?

Did they chase you to the place i cannot follow when you went away?

“Y/n.”

You jump slightly, the chill in the pale air becoming a prick of awarness as you reach for the knife on your hip, turning around quikcly.

Neteyam stands before you, his wooded-honeyed scent fills your nose, you blink as a breath of his name leaves your lips.

“Neteyam-

Oh Neteyam you scared me, you asshole.”

Usually he would have laughed. But not today, not with the shadow that looms.

He gently touches your arm.

“I’m sorry, truly-

What are you doing awake? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did something-

Did someone-”

You laugh at him. But its bitter and its thin. Its forced.

“For eywas sake why does everyone think i am the weak link suddenly-

I am fine. Stop looking at me like i am wounded-”

Neteyam cuts you off.

“Y/n, i would never think such a thing about you, ever. You know this. I want you safe, you can’t expect me not to be concerned when you wonder off in the middle of the night, syulang”

The nickname from whe you were children is a warm familiarity at the least.

You huff and lean against the tree bark.

“I just needed air.”

Its small and muttered.

A shaky breath left your lips.

“I’m trying to find ways to endure my own thoughts.”

Neteyams eyes soften as he steps forward, he gently takes a place y beside you, back against the tree as he stands next to you. Your hand brushes his, but your fingers refuse to interlace.

The two of you stared up at the stars for a moment.

“Teyam?

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’s ungrateful to feel as if you have nothing, even when others orrond you with love and promises?”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Is it wrong to feel alone when your in the arms of others?”

As it falls into place for neteyam, he gazes at you as if you were a mystery in the moonlight.

He tries to see past your walls, to place himself in your shadow.

He glances at you, then back up at the sky.

“No. It’s not ungrateful. I think we’re all born with some sort of circle around us.”

You pause for a moment, looking over at him.

“A circle?”

He nods.

“A circle. The people we love and care for? the people we would do anything for? The people who make our home, they all belong inside our circle.

My father, my mother, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, they're all a part of my circle.”

He pauses for a moment, his tail swishing behind him.

“And…you are too. You’re apart of my circle, Y/n.”

You gaze at him and he withers under your eyes, averting his eyes and fidgeting with his necklace.

After a moment, he speaks again.

“I can’t imagine loosing people in that circle…things must become so…empty. As if the world seems too small all of the sudden.

So no, it’s not selfish to feel alone when that circle is gone.”

His words spark comfort. The hollowness within your palm seems less heavy.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, and he nods at you.

“You don’t have to be alone, y/n. My family…when they spoke to you tonight about staying with us when we travel to the mountains, it was not because there’s a need to replace what you once had. Y/n, we want you to embrace this new circle-“

“What if I’m not ready to find a new circle?”

The vehement tone you were bearning stunned neteyam for a moment.

“Your mother was right. The sky people will take, and they will kill, and they will hunt, until everything under the sky of pandora is either dead or theirs..”

Your eyes hardened for a moment and Neteyam was still as he took in your words.

You look up at the moon once more; taking a breath.

“I do not wish to fear them anymore, Neteyam.

I want them to be the ones who fear us.”

There was a new found devotion in your heart.

A bitter song of fire and desolation.

Vengeance.

Each note a new mockery of blood and ash. Every chorus an unfamiliar revelry of hunger.

That night, under the fallen stars and the cold moonlight, the inextinguishable plotted purpose was born within you.

Neteyam sighed; his gaze fitting back to the moon.

“And so you will..”

No.

Don’t.

I don’t want to loose you in the fire.

But he didn’t dare speak it aloud.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“I have something for you.”

He felt his heart flutter when your eyes met his.

He reached into the pocket of his loincloth.

“It was a gift I planned on giving during the ceremony.”

You felt twitch of anguish as you recalled the memory.

“You already contributed your gift..you gave that armband my father taught you how to weave.”

He gave you a tender look. The kind whispered in the solace of summer and soft secrets.

“It is for you. Not for your loss.”

His words unclouded a new warmth in your chest.

For a moment, your anger ceased to simmer.

“I made this, for you a long while ago..but I never found the right time to give it to you.

Then..the incident happened and I knew it wasn’t a good time..I was planning on giving it to you on this day..but the plans changed.”

He opened his palm to reveal a small carved wooden spiral, polished and smooth. 3 strings with little charming dangling.

The first charm was 2 purple colored crystal, the second was a wooden bead that wore a Maude color, with a tree carved on it, the last was a stack of small purple beads with marbled colors.

He placed it gently in the palm of your hand, and you cradled it with such delicacy.

“Oh it’s beautiful…”

Your breath truly caught itself in his trap.

“When we were young your mother made you that necklace out of those crystals and small jeweled beads, the one she found in the river?..you were so happy to wear something so colorful..I remember the purple ones were your favorite. You always placed them so that they were in the middle. I’d thought I’d add them as a small bonus.”

He smiled at the memory.

You hugged him, your cheek pressed against his chest, he was stunned for a moment but hugged you back, you looked up at him and your breath caught for a moment, your faces mere inches apart.

You both Depart slightly and avert your eyes.

“Thank you. It’s lovely, Neteyam.”

You said softly, he nodded and smiled at you.

“The spiral suits you. Even now with this great loss you bear. It’s a connection. Even to those who are no longer with us.”

You smiled at him back, and the two of you started to walk back to the village.

How could you not see it? The spiral. A sign of support? Of friendship? Of trust?

No my dear Y/n.

It was how he felt like his soul was steadily orbiting around you. Thoughts of you never ended.

His circle.

His spiral.

You were the center.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

Years later….(y/n is now 18.)

(her code name is “X” neteyam’s name through comms is canonically ‘pathfinder’)

Jake yipped to Neytiri as she raised her bow and looked over her shoulder.

Her face is adorned with war paint, much like yours. She had painted you for the day. Red, purple, blue, the colors of your ikran worn proudly like a hyde of victory.

“Remember the plan.”

Jake says through his throat comms, his volume fighting the wind. You held your two fingers to the small mic on your neck so you could hear through your earpiece.

“Neytiri and I will strike from above, X, you're my Archer. I want you to hit em’ quick and move out fast. Eagle Eye, pathfinder, you two are spotters. Do not engage in close range, or air combat, understood?”

You heard lo’ak groan through his comm.

“Bro, why does Y/n get to have all the fun!?”

You felt a tinge of pride. Knowing you were Jake’s right hand out in the field. Higher ranked than either of his son’s. A skilled Archer.

“Because I'm older and I have more fun.”

You quipped back, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

“Ya know what'd be fun? If you were to crash straight into one of those mountains and fall in your cocky as-”

“Both of you! No arguing on the comms!”

You refocused as the smell of ash and metal was fast approaching. YOu and the war party arrive on the scene right on time

You flew up above the train tracks and watched as the vehicle crashed into a collision of smoke and ash on the derailed tracks. The air scorched to sting your flesh with an uncomfortable heat.

Neytiri let out a ululating sound to signal to you as she flew down to help Jake. Behind you were 3 smaller aircrafts.

You grabbed your bow from the side saddle, mentally commanding your ikran to dive.

Everyone who witnessed Y/n fight swore the wind under her ikran’s wings were grazed with fire.

She was made of red-ribboned rainstorms in a scarlet blaze of uncharted wind and wildflowers.

For a moment it’s all too real. The encore of your arrows, the satisfying stretch of your bow string, Like the last note before the chorus. You dive down, sliding down the neck of your Ikran ever so slightly as the wind stings your cheeks, the sunlight strong. You draw back, a loud call escaping your throat, and the arrow flies.

Its in a blink of an eye the cockpit window is shattered, the pilot now sporting an arrow of yours through his neck as the metal gray bird ceases it’s flight and collapses in a cloud of smoke and sulfur.

You’d usually be celebrating if two bastards weren't behind you.

You grasp two arrows this time, the long wooden shaft in your clutch as you line them up properly for the next shot.

The pilots pathetically attempt to surf with the wind beneath you, scattering your duo targets into far off spots.

Thats the thing about humans. They tiptoed on the wind as if it was uneven ground. Na’vi warriors like you danced upon airstorms and harsh rains. A swirling spiral of helix grazes your skin as you feel one of their shots fly past you the heat just missing your ikran,

You soothe him before regaining your position, you mentally make a new command to your ikran.

‘Drop’

In a moment, the settled feeling of security that once shaved your bones seems to wither away.

Your ikran free falls, rolling against the wind that whips and wails. Your chest heaves as you ready your shot, the reverberation from your bowstring sings to your fingers as the two arrows fly, hitting both pilots as your irkan regains a flying position instead of a falling one, all adrift in a fleeting shot.

The aircrafts fall together, crashing against the ground.

The ground team jake had arranged comes into view frm the side forest clearing, all watching in awe as if you were the embodiment of phoenix.

They raised their bows and let out warcalls, you pridefully returned, raising your bow above your head and releasing a war call of your own.

Neteyam watched from afar. His ikran synced with Lo’aks as they circled the scene below, na’vi led by Norm gathering all the weapons they could.

But he couldnt let himself focus on the world below when all he could see was the woman made of exquisite inferno and grace was scorching the sky with her blaze.

Neteyam felt the wind brisk through his braids as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight in hopes to catch another glimpse of you.

The light of day made you seem grazed with gold that brushed the cobalt hues.

He watched as you shot down the aircrafts, he watched you shoot two arrows.

To Neteyam, you were made of fire.

Remnants of moonlight and high-tided sea storms. A hellish radiance and a scarlet soul.

Neteyam remembered the night he saw the flame embed itself in your soul. The night he gifted you that carving that was now a charm that rested tied to the long expanse of your bow.

He hated it. How inconsolable he feared you were, how he feared this new alit flame would burn his touch away from you. Useless was an understatement, of how he felt that night, even the stars above refused to guide him down teh right path.

He knew you were angry.

He was angry too.

He wanted to fight just like you did. His hatred for these sky demons simmered beneath his skin. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight next to you and his father. He was a protector of the people.

He had seen what they had taken from his home, from his parents, his family, from you.

At first, he thought it was jealousy.

The way Jake encrusted you to be his main archer. To shoot down sky ships.

Neteyam? He wasn’t anywhere near the fighting. Not anywhere near you.

He knew his father thought him and Lo’ak were “too important” to be fighting.

Jake was trying to salvage the sons made of stone before the heat of war can melt the rock.

Were you better than him?

Stronger than him?

Why did his father trust you more than he trusted his eldest?

As he watches you now, the archer who had her arrowhead aimed at his heart from day 1.

He knows its love. It must be.

It keeps him awake at night. The devoured feeling that gnaws at his heart. You were the center of his sky in all your celestial glory and he wished he would have gifted you the entire universe but instead he gave you that carved spiral.

He loved you because where other struggled to see in the dark you danced with dusk. You were a paradox. Detached, but focused. Because you somehow made the most dissolute and reckless seem graceful. You were real. Imperfect. Unconfined hunger bordered by each beautiful bruise blemish and scar that covered your skin.

You haunted him.

“Bro!”

And funny enough, it seems eywa created little brothers for a different kind of haunting.

Neteyams eyes flickered to where Lo’ak circled around him on his ikran.

The cold colors tattered across the ikrans purple and blue skin, trapping the yellow large speckles of shapes of the banshee’s skin.

Lo’ak’s echoes dwindle in the gust of wind, the war paint he wore proudly on either side of his face, Neteyam had watched Y/n paint Lo’ak after his begging back at high camp.

Something about Lo’aks smile in situations like these always found ways to disquiet Neteyam.

His eyebrows hover above his eyes as his fangs bare through his smile.

“Bro! We have got to get down there!”

Neteyam shakes his head, a warning look traces his features.

“No way! Dad will skin us!”

Lo’ak shakes his head, the wind uplifting his braids as he dives.

“C’mon! Don’t be a wuss!”

The flushed first notes of an uncertain heartbeat ablaze neteyam’s mind as he dives as well.

“Shit! Lo’ak! Get back you dumbass!”

Lo’ak dived blow into the musk of what might as well be no man’s land. The air wailed and whipped around him as he hopped off his Ikran. Yanking his kuru from his banshees and running towards the chaos in question.

He looked over his shoulder to see Neteyam following suit. He laughed, waving his hand through the dust and smoke.

“C‘mom bro!”

“Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak come back!”

Lo’ak faltered momentarily when he saw Norm directing some navi’s into a brigade to gather all the weapons from the train’s supply cart. Swiftly swerving to stay out of the dream walkers sight, he joined the forming crowd where around where Tarsem had just opened a new cart of guns.

“Here boy- take this weapon! Go!”

Lo’ak let put a silly war cry and puffed up his chest,

Neteyam came to a halt.

“Lo’ak, you don’t even know how to use it.”

Lo’ak waved the gun around like it was weightless, handling it like one of Tuk’s toys.

“Nah bro. Dad taught me!”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, done with Lo’aks bullshit.

“I’m sure he did-

Let’s go-“

He grabbed lo’aks bicep but Lo’ak shrugged him off.

“Or maybe I’ll just be like y/n and shoot down some sky demons!”

Above the clouds, you circled the ensuing hustle below. Watching the brigades, monitoring the ground team. Your bow at the ready in its position on your saddle sheath.

And then you saw them.

“Son of a bitch!”

You hissed quietly, swiftily diving down to where the duo of your headache embodied currently argued about something stupid.

Lo’ak smiled as he saw you, but it faded as he watched the shadow of your Ikran (which was larger than the average Ikran, granted)

Loom over the both as you hopped down, glaring at them.

“What are you two shitheads doing here!?”

The feathers on your raid top gently shook in the breeze, a few of your beads clanking together in your braids as you made your descend.

Neteyam seemed to straighten, but his breath seemed to form a blockade for his own voice.

Maybe it was the way the brightly covered beads and feathers of your top accentuated your skin. Or maybe it was the way the fathers in your braids matched your waist beads Kiri had made you.

Maybe it was the way your loincloth seemed a bit more perfect than usual as it hugged your hips.

Maybe it was the way the red, blue, and purple war paint on your face outlined your eyes like wings and shed down your cheeks like tears, sorrowed in starlight for you had just been warrior of the wind.

I guess we’ll never know.

Lo’ak spoke for him.

“We wanted to help! C’mon, we have the ground team to be spotters! They don’t need us! I’ve been practicing the trick you taught me with the bow, just let us fly with you- we promise we’ll-“

You shot Lo’ak down before the words flooded further, the scarlet hues ablazed and begged for nothing but obedience in your voice.

“Kehe! You will do nothing-! Go back to your post. Both of you, now!”

You swatted Lo’ak with your bow, hissing at him, Neteyam tried to drag Lo’ak away.

“Bro let’s go!-“

The sound of heavy mechanical whirring instilled the heightening of your awareness in the moment, your ears pining back as you saw the larger ship approach.

“Gun ship inbound!”

Jake shouted, you saw neytiri hiss and take off on her Ikran.

“Shit! Run!” You cursed, shoving Lo’ak and Neteyam in the opposite direction and making a break away from the approaching enemy.

As it would seem time was not in your favor, your Ikran had already been spooked away by the blast, Neteyam grabbed your hand before you could run,

“Come with us, now!

Go-!”

He shoved Lo’ak ahead of him as they ran, Neteyam’s hand clutching yours as you kept pace with the two.

The 3 of you climbed over the derailed debris, Neteyam and you scaling the bright yellow RDA logo train doors,

“Bro come on!” Lo’ak called.

A flash of light invaded your vision, the scorching heat of the blast incircled you.

You feel Neteyam attempt to reach for you, but instead all you feel is a tug on your wrist as your senses start to numb.

Your airborn for a moment, then your body collides with the uneven ground, the rocky surface below.

You groan, your vision blurring. The embers and ash clash against your skin in the harsh sting of the hot air.

You winced in pain as the adrenaline started it’s course of abandonment. The aching sensation swallows your body.

Scarlet etched its way in a jagged scratch on your side. The world seemed to darkn as the scarlet hues slowly faded to black. The sky’s golden and blue game of chance changes its rules as your eyelids become heavy.

Neteyam’s eyes shoot open as his vision readjusts itself clearly.

Lo’ak is above him, shaking him awake. Panic in the half-notes of his jagged breaths.

“Bro!? Bro! C’mon, get up we gotta go!”

Neteyam stands to his feet, groaning, but quickly regaining his senses.

He looked down at his hand to see where something small and beaded made its home in his clutch.

A bracelet?

Your bracelet.

It hit Neteyam like a tidal wave.

“Shit! Y/n-“

Neteyam tried to run past when his body collided with a taller one, Jake stood looming over his son’s, placing one hand on each of their shoulders “Hey! Easy, easy, where’s Y/n?! Are you hurt?!”

Neteyam tried to speak but all it was met with is stuttered breaths and a poor panicked exclamation.

“That way! I meant to grab her arm and I grabbed this instead-

The blast-“

Jake didn’t hesitate as he started running in the direction you were in, Lo’ak seemingly still in shock and Neteyam following his father without missing a beat,

“Stay behind boy! Get your brother out of here!”

“But sir-“

“That’s a direct order!”

Norm, quickly dragged Neteyam and lo’ak away to the sidelines of the forest to make their quick escape.

The sound of a screech flooded your ears, the footseps barely audible over the smoke and wind.

“Y/n! Oh child, Eywa no.”

You reached for your knife with the last ounce of motor control you could muster, before a hand gently lifted you on your back, the sun’s blinding silver line halo of heat scorched your eyes, you hissed and winced in pain.

The hands were familiar, it calmed you rather quickly.

You knew it was neytiri when the blurry shape of gray purple and green, faintly recognizable as her bone collared-top.

You groaned, the raw rushes of pain encased your vision.

“I’m sorry-”

You mumbled.

“Shh. No apologies, my dear girl. Come, we must go. Quickly.”

The last thing you remember is the gently shrill of her Ikran and her hand around your waist was she settled you in front of her on her ikran. The Scarlet hue no painted the wind.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

When you awake, its to the sound of herbs grinding soflty in a boil. The reverberations of the grinding tool against the small wooden bowl make your ears twitch.

Your vision settles. Mo’at sits infornt of the small fire in the tsahiks tent, Tuktirey by her side.

Her big eyes blinking at her grandmother’s handy-work, her much smaller tail swishing to the beat of each sound.

You sat up slowly, with a small wince. But the pain was significantly better.

Tuk gasps

“Y/n! You're alive!”

She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her little head into your chest. You smile at the smaller girls, roughly a few of her braids, kissing the top of her head.

“of course I’m alive, yawntu! It would take a million Sky People to take me out.”

You teasingly mocked the position of an archer, holding a pretend bow and arrow made out of thin air as Tuk laughed.

Mo’at gently cleared her throat, making her way to you as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

“ Child, your wounds were deep, but they shall heal quickly with the salve. Kiri shall be back with more herbs soon. But please rest, simply until the bandages are removed.”

You nodded greatfully, squeezing her hand in a gesture of thank you.

She was the closest thing you would have to a grandmother, even before your parents began their journey with Eywa. You never got to meet your actual grandparents. They died in the attack on hometree. The only memory you had of them was through the clans' stories.

You wore a choker that was strung with river pearls and brown leather, a small navy-blue colored stone in the middle. A treasured piece your grandmother once wore.

Tuk snuggled up to you in the hammock, and you gently rubbed her back.

A soft rustling made your ears perk up when Kiri slipped through the tent flap with a basket of herbs.

“Tsmuke, (sister)

You are awake.”

Her expression softened, as if tensed up since the moment you returned unconscious. It probably was.

She handed the herbs to Mo’at and kneeled at your side, gently brushing a few of your braids away from your face.

“How are you feeling? Better? I used yalna bark when grandmother wasn’t looking. Was it Lo’ak again? It’s always Neteyam getting in trouble and you getting hurt when that sxkwang gets bright ideas-“

You gently stopped her mid rant. Holding her hand gently to your chest.

“I am fine, Kiri. A few scratches and bruises has never done much harm.”

She chuckled softly, standing back to her feet to assist Mo’at with the rest of the preparations for other wounded warriors.

As the hours passed, and the sun started to set, Kiri had to drag Tuktirey off to bed and Mo’at left the tent for the night. Leaving you alone to find sleep.

Mo’at had insisted you sleep in the Tsahik’ s tent tonight. Get some extra rest.

You didn’t argue. It was better than sharing a hammock with Lo’ak. The boy snored more than what you were almost certain was normal.

It was an understatement to say you nearly killed someone when you heard the tent flap rustle. You jumped, instinctly reaching for your knife.

It was well after hours.

Everyone should be asleep.

Who was it? Were you followed when you left the train?

Was it a sky demon? An animal?

You slowly felt your heart steady once again when you saw a small pale figure enter your tent, the small glimmer of his mask dances in the firelight. Lo’ak is behind him, looking less hyper than usual. Instead, a subtle tinge of gray flickered past his eyes, but it quickly gilded itself to green and gold once it settled on your form. He released a breath of relief and spider smiled.

“See? I told you she was okay.”

It took you a moment to realize that Lo’ak was worried about you.

You gave him a small smile opening your one arm that wasn’t aching, and he slipped himself under it, sitting next to you in the hammock, resting his head on your shoulder.

Lo’ak was your best friend. But really, he was so much more than that.

He was your family. Your ride-or-die.

Your right hand.

It made you feel a bit guilty, that Lo’ak seemed to prefer you over Neteyam sometimes.

Lo’ak wanted you to be his teacher when it came to his archery training and sparring. Lo’ak wanted it to be you who he went on hunts with.

Yet again, he also only lets you braid his hair because apparently neytiri pulls too hard and Neteyam doesn’t know how to tie them off properly.

Spider was a bit of a different case.

As you grew older, you realized how much you envied your motehrs sense of lightness.

Her entire being seemed to be made of golden hour gardens and softly whispered summers.

She was strong. The strongest woman you knew.

But she was kind.

She wasn’t like Neytiri in the sense that she resented all humans.

Your mother always felt a sense of protectiveness over Spider. A small, pale boy who used his heart instead of brain, chasing shimmyflys and tripping over vines that were larger than him. She welcomed him into her circle. She shielded him from the storms of strange staring and pesky fears.

Your mother always cared for Spider. Helped him re-twist his locs and make him new loincloths and hair beads. Some of your earliest memories were you and spider playing with the small carved toys in your family’s tent, or giggling after dark under the blankets after your father told you both to go to sleep.

She argued when spider had to go back to his foster family, and ended up making bargains with him to stay overnight every few days.

You’re almost positive it’s the only motherly love spider has ever known.

He cried when your mother died.

You think he might have cried more than you did.

Sobbed for days with you, and it brought you closer together.

You smiled as Lo’ak fidgeted with one of the bracelets on your wrist.

When you were about 8, Lo’ak was 7, spider was 9, your mother carved you these special beads for the three of you to use.

You three decided to make bracelets and your father helped you string them together, all collecting charms and gifting them to one another to add.

The two biggest stones were carved river crystal the two boys collected, Lo’ak rolled the beads between his two extra fingers, sporting a bracelet of his own you and spider made him.

“So, I heard you got your ass kicked.”

Spider snickered. Sitting down in front of you.

You whacked him with your tail.

“Fuck off. Those sky demons ate my arrows.”

Spider groaned,

“I’m so pissed. I heard you fell down in a explosion and ate shit-

And now one took a picture for me!”

Lo’ak threw and arm around your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah. And her Romeo was panicking because he didn’t save her in time”

You flushed, shoving him away.

Spider laughed, standing up.

“I can only imagine-“

He cleared his throat, before making his voice go an obnoxious pitch higher, twirling his locs around his fingers and batting his eyes, mimcmking what was supposed to be you.

“Oh Neteyam! My big strong warrior man! Come save me!”

You hissed in annoyance, but couldn’t help but bite back laughter at the back of your throat.

Lo’ak stood to his feet, puffing up his chest and taking his braid out of the way he tied them back, letting them hang, deepening his voice and stomping towards spider, dramatically holding him in his arms as spider collapsed with a loud rehearsed sigh.

Lo’aks Neteyam imitation sent you over the edge, you were now cackling and had rolled out of your hammock.

“I’ll save you from the demon ships with my bow and arrow!”

Lo’ak, you, and spider all break into a fit of laughter, rolling around on the ground. Lo’ak steadying himself by burying his face in your shoulder as spider banged his fist on the ground, finally, as the laughter died down, the three of you stared at the top of the tent, out of breath, the only sound being the gentle wheezing endnotes of your breaths.

“Glad you kicked some ass today. Those fucking RDA pilots didn’t stand a chance against you and that bow of yours.”

Spider whispered. Nudging your shoulder gently.

You smiled at him, Lo’ak squished in between you.

The three of you said your goodnight s, and you watched the two missing parts of your circle leave the tent before they could get caught after lights out.

You nestled back into the hammock, staring up at the ceiling.

The aching in your arms hasn’t completely vanished it’s fortification of pain in your shoulder.

You gently rub circles around the small carved spiral you untied from the long shaft of your bow when spider dragged it inside.

You played with the small crystals and the beads, gently humming to yourself.

Your fingers traced along the shape, Neteyams eyes invaded your mind.

It was fascinating, really. How a warrior such as yourself had won today's battle and yet the one thing you truly yearned for was still not within your grasp.

It hurts sometimes, to think about how beautiful he was.

The way his irises encompassed golden hour in all its starlight sessions.

The air was thicker in the mountains like this, up here in high camp. Perhaps that’s why the sweltering residual warmth that rippled across your skin like lillies to a pond every time you thought of him

You wondered if he tasted like the sun. Sweet, possibly bitter. Bleak and addicting, such a delicacy deserved to never touch your lips.

Alas the stars did not align for you.

Not tonight.

You trace the spiral one last time before letting your eyes flutter closed.

Your tail flicked as you heard yet another rustling.

The sound of footsteps, slightly heavier than last time.

You groaned.

“Spider did you forget something again?..”

When no answer was heard you grumbled. Standing to your feet and untying the tent flap, only to be met with two two golden hour orbs that had just plagued your mind.

“”Neteyam?..”

authors note:

I’m finally done! I haven’t slept in two days but I’m finished. I can’t decided whether I like the way this turned out but I LOVE some of the smaller little details. Y/n is such a badass and she’s in her reputation eraaaa. We love to see it 😩👏 this first one was a lil angsty but I PROMISE y’all, this series is NOT angst. I’ve got a ton of stuff planned. I’m thinking maybe a little bit of jealous Neteyam? Some humor? Spider and Lo’ak being the captain of the ship? Mo’at being a sassy Granmda? Maybe some sister bonding with Kiri? AHHH IM SO HYPED. I, about to pass out and I can’t feel my fingers but that’s it for now! Stay tuned for part 2 🏹

-Sol

Jan 2034

“Virago” series, chp. 1.

Taglist:

@plooto

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #jake avatar #kiri sully #avatar fanfiction #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #neytiri

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shanastoryteller · 4 months

Note

happy holidays! siat asim and lucius please

There's a soft trilling coming from his fireplace and Asim almost doesn't answer it. It's late and he's just come back from a shift that was hell and sometimes he wonders if he's doing any good at all or if he's just there so people can suffer differently before dying painfully.

There are so, so many ways to hurt people and often only one way to save them. He knows too much of the former and not enough of the latter.

His fireplace makes another enquiring trill and he taps the brick with his wand.

It's Lucius.

He only ever calls him for one reason.

Asim accepts the call and is unsurprised to see his fireplace empty. He's likely not in any condition to be crawling on the floor, not that his sort ever do that sort of thing. There's a reason that fireplaces tall enough to stand in are almost standard in magical homes - no one is interested in getting on there hands in knees when they could just lean forward.

He steps into the flames, finding himself spit out in the townhouse in France that Lucius started living in after graduation. It's not much distance from Abraxas, but he'd been glad of it anyway.

There can never be enough distance from Abraxas, which he's reminded of when he looks over to see Lucius laying shirtless on his stomach on the chaise, his head resting on his left arm and his other arm drags to the ground where his hand is gripped around a glass of firewhiskey.

His back looks like hamburger meat.

It's nothing but long cuts and blood, more exposed muscle than should exist outside of a butcher.

"Sorry," he slurs, eyes hazy as they slowly meet his. "Potions took care of the little stuff."

He's known Lucius long enough that he flinches at the idea of what he considers the little stuff. He's more than aware enough of what it has to be, considering the caliber of healing potions he has access too.

Broken bones take a lot. After that, healing potions can get a little confused. There's a reason bones are better healed by a spell. It was probably that, but he knows better than to ask.

Asim shoves down familiar anger and says, "How long were you waiting? You could have called another healer."

Lucius doesn't say anything even as he starts, running a diagnostic spell then beginning the time consuming process of healing every laceration separately. If he doesn't, Lucius's body just stops accepting the magic, not reacting well to broad application.

Overexposure, probably, but it's not like he can just be left bleeding. Abraxas wishes Lucius would let him add it to his chart.

His breath hitches at a particularly deep wound, then he says, "You're the only one that doesn't talk."

Asim hates people sometimes. There are trustworthy healers out there, but he supposes they don't do house calls without asking questions. He probably shouldn't, either.

But he just can't leave him bleeding.

"You should be more careful," he says instead. He knows it's not an accident, that this can't be an accident, but they never talk about what it really is. They never talk about Abraxas.

Lucius smiles, which is shocking enough that Asim stops mid-spell. "I knew this would happen. It's a price I'm willing to pay."

This is more than he's ever gotten from him before. It's oddly disconcerting. "Lucius?"

"I got engaged," he says.

Asim waits for more, but when Lucius just keeps silent and smiling as he continues to work on his back, he says, "Congratulations."

A wife of Lucius's choosing rather than Abraxas's. Maybe she can do some good.

Anyone he loves enough to go through this to have won't sit back and watch as her husband suffers. He hopes.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter #siat

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bettyfrommars · 4 months

Text

the corner of Heartache & Jameson

18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.

wc: 706

You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.

“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet. “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world. It’s not fair.”

Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow. The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side. You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.

You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.

You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks. “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here. I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”

Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.

You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face.

“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.

He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.

“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow. “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”

“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave. You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.

“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug. You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke. “Since my uncle passed. He’s right over there.”

He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction. As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard.

“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle. “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”

You relax your hand on the pepper spray. You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.

He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face. “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other. Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.

You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore. Being alone is better, being alone is safe.

But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here. It just…happened.”

You understood the compulsion. You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.

You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles. You held one up to him by the glass neck. “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”

“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea. “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson blurb #grief #loss #heartache

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fanstuffrantings · 2 months

Text

Honestly, I hope Ruben is related to Professor hopclap by being his Nephew/son/cousin or whatever. Because the idea of the Rat grinders building up thoughts that the bad kids have unfair advantages when all the advantages the bad kids have mirror the Rat grinders would be so juicy. Kipperlily being a rich kid matches up with Fabian already. It would make their arguments petty and superficial, which completely tracks for teenagers.

Teenagers get emotional and reactive. This isn't me saying that teenagers are terrible people and that they're wrong for their feelings, but more so that teenagers tend to be incredibly hormonal and impulsive, which high school doesn't help. Their jealousy makes it so that all of their arguments about how unfair it is that the bad kids get preferential treatment far outweighs the sensible thought that the bad kids are just as privileged (maybe even slightly less so depending on how supportive the parents are) as the right grinders.

Sometimes, hatred you have for people doesn't make complete sense. The bad kids largely are very welcoming and friendly. Some of them can be knuckleheads, but for the most part what they do is always to help others. They're the cool kids in school even if we as the viewers don't always notice it because we see them for the dorks they are. In freshmen year they got arrested for murder charges, broke out of prison after a few months, and saved the day from the vice principal who they'd been actively investigating for months.

In sophomore year both during spring break and summer they save the world 2 more times when their spring break quest unfolded into something bigger.

They're legends at Aguefort and that means all of their classmates probably get incredibly overshadowed.

They see the accomplishments without the sacrifices. They don't think about Kristen dying in the nightmare forest and having to revive herself because no one else could or how tough it's been for her becoming disillusioned with her faith that told her she deserved to burn for who she was. She's the lesbian cleric who broke away from her faith, started 2 religions, weight lifts now, and is chill enough to run for president and jump into a pool of sauce on the back if a flaming motorcycle.

They don't think about Fig finding out she was a child of an affair leading to her father saying she was unwanted and her having to find who she was, something she's still doing. They see fig as the Rockstar revolutionary girl who befriends the outcasts, is the arch devil of fhe bottomless pit, daughter of Gorthalax, and person willing to smoke at any opportunity regardless of whether she'd get in trouble for it.

Fabian isn't a guy unlearning his ingrained toxic masculinity after killing his dad and being raised to believe money, intimidation, and brute strength were how you get through life. They see the captain of the football team who hosts parties at his massive mansion, rides a demonic motorcycle, has a mom dating the vice principal, and is a world class dancer.

Riz had to work through the death of his father at a young age, constant ridicule from peers who didn't want him, and a desperation to do whatever it takes to be wanted that he still hasn't gotten over. But most people see a classmate who has everything figured out and the ability to connect the dots at all times. Plus a nickname from the football team that's said with love.

Adaine with her social anxiety she's now medicated for, parents who never loved her, an older sister she's only barely starting to bond with, and a barely passing grade in her class because she has no money to make ends meet. But she's also the elven oracle, cool party wizard who summons mephits to chill drinks, magically gifted in truly amazing ways, and will always remember your name after speaking to you.

Gorgug who was lovingly raised but always felt disconnected due to his parents not being able to understand him, who had to push against porter for 2.5 years before finally getting a chance to be taught by someone who didn't talk down to him, trying his best but failing so often. But to most he's a football player, rock star, hyper intelligent mechanic, rebellious teen, and now dude who oinked at a fed.

We all as viewers are aware of their flaws and their awesome moments, but the school at large only knows their moments that gained them more attention. Of course the Rat grinders would become jealous and angry when things seem so much easier for them. Of course they'd perceive any instances of the bad kids being friendly as them looking down on others because obviously they're too popular to be genuine. But if the rat grinders can prove the bad kids are the horrible people they think they are and stop them from succeeding, then it just puts things right doesn't it?

#molten rambles #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fantasy high spoilers #this season just screams “over reactive teenage pettiness” and i say that with love #i cant hate the rat grinders im sorry

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 11 months

Text

Brightest Star

Synopsis: In a world eager to give and receive love, you fail to meet expectations. Foul Legacy shows you that you’re perfect the way you are.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Happy ending Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, nervousness, death, self-loathing, reader has a difficult time romantically loving other people, reader has difficulty accepting love from others, reader feels like they are “broken” because of this

Note: I realize that the contents of this fic might come off as very insensitive to people who are part of the aro/ace community- this is not my intention. This fic is partially based off my personal struggles with the concept of loving, dating, etc, and is not meant to invalidate anyone’s identity. Please proceed with caution if you think this fic might be upsetting to read for you.

~ * ~ You’re not an ideal lover. Oh, how you wish you could be, as the concept of being held in a special someone’s arms fills your chest with warmth; sweet little daydreams imagined in your head. You see couples on the streets- partners, friends, newlyweds- all celebrating the different types of love they have for each other, and in your eyes, it’s beautiful. A wonderful occasion, worthy of the highest praise, and you clap and cheer and wish you could find someone to love on your own. But wishes rarely come true, and your desire to adore and be adored entirely is overshadowed by the stone-cold truth of impossibility. For you have never loved, and don’t know if you ever will love. Surrounded by all walks of life in Liyue Harbor, you drifted through existence alone, putting on a polite smile of false security. To satisfy your thirst for understanding, you would observe the people of the city, taking note of each and every laugh, argument, and rejection that passed by your eyes, and more and more your curiosity grew. Love is multifaceted, and it both soothes and burns the souls of mortals and gods alike, a flickering candle and a roaring flame all at once. Ah, how you sometimes wish to have it in your hands. By the time you were grown, you had made relative peace with life, content to watch and celebrate others loving and being loved if you could not have it for yourself. It was an excellent type of joy- happiness, to you, has many forms- to see your dearest friends so elated, their cheeks warm with both embarrassment and delight. Perhaps in those years you had mastered a type of love, platonic love, and you cherished and protected it as your most precious treasure. But still, sometimes it hurts. No matter how many times you reassure yourself that you don’t mind, it always feels like something is wrong with you, thinking about romance and fantasy. Because no matter how much you yearn for it, you just don’t seem to be capable of loving a partner- even less so being loved back. It’s lonely in the Harbor, and you are the star of its melancholy, hiding your worthlessness behind your malfunctioning heart. It was sheer coincidence- or perhaps fate- that your paths intercepted, the thread of your life crossing and looping around his as you look up one day, out on your daily walk, and catch the cold azure eyes of a stranger. But those eyes simply curl upwards as the copper-haired man dressed in gray waves to you, the garb of the Fatui outshone by the beaming smile on his face. The Eleventh Harbinger, the Lord Tartaglia. Something sparks in your heart like fireworks and you stumble, disoriented. It fades to background noise as he rushes over to help you to your feet, but it’s still there, you can feel it just out of reach, and it makes your cheeks grow warm in confusion. Is this what dying feels like? There are butterflies only you can see, brushing their wings against your cheeks and making your stomach twist and turn. But Tartaglia laughs kindly, giving your grasped hand a firm shake, and suddenly you find yourselves acquainted. For Tartaglia- or Childe, as he goes by in Liyue- acquaintances are little more than friends who’ve barely met. Somehow he keeps finding you at corners, shops, even when you’re simply eating alone, sauntering over to sit down beside you and talk your ear off. All the while you’re silent, conflicting emotions of nervousness and delight and trepidation and perplexity whirling around until you’re a mess, a muddled disaster who only wants to scoot closer and lay your head on Childe’s shoulder, if only you were brave enough. Is this what love is? That’s impossible. You’re supposed to be broken, condemned to a life of loneliness. Or are you just breaking more? It only gets worse when Childe shows you Foul Legacy, his monstrous half originating from deep beneath the world, from a vast Abyssal ocean of stars. He’s a creature of destruction and decay- yet you’ve never met anyone sweeter, Foul Legacy sweeping you off your feet and holding you to his chest upon first sight, happy trilling noises slipping from his fanged maw as he hugs you and purrs. You didn’t even know Abyssal monsters could purr. Or maybe they can’t, and Foul Legacy is the exception. Either way, Childe bashfully admits that Legacy shows what he truly feels, rather than hiding them under a cover of charming grins, and soon all your outings end with an armored moth-beast snuggling against you while rumbling in delight. Foul Legacy likes you, Childe says- he likes you more than anything. Then, as always, the Harbinger trails off and averts his eyes, and the flame in your chest glows warmly when you see the blush dusting his cheeks before you grow nauseous with nerves for the umpteenth time this month. It’s a vicious cycle of nausea-happiness-fear-delight whenever you’re with Childe, human or Foul Legacy, the excitement of loving balanced by the terror of a new, raw emotion, an emotion you had convinced yourself that you’d never feel. Your friends, so experienced and knowing, catch on immediately, crowding around you and asking who the lucky person is, what’s their name, what do they look like, are they kind, are they flirty, who, what, when, where- You feel like vomiting, and stumble over your words. They can never know he’s a Harbinger, for his safety and theirs, and you retreat to a quiet space once they leave, head fuzzy and blank. You love him, don’t you? Were you deluding yourself into thinking you were broken? But that’s worse, isn’t it, if you do truly love him. Because you can never love him enough, not as much as he deserves. How does one “show love”? Nothing makes sense to you. Slowly you realize that it can only end in heartbreak, and you curl in on yourself and scream in agony. It’s raining the next time you’re supposed to spend the day with Childe, so Foul Legacy arrives instead, shaking water from his glittering wings and kneeling to your height so you can dry his ginger hair with a towel. It’s soft and thick, and you decide to forgo the towel in favor of brushing Legacy’s hair with your fingers, his blissful purrs coaxing a bubbling laugh from your throat. Then doubts trickle in, filling your mind like thick, murky water, and the laugh fades into silence, your gentle pats slowing to a stop. Foul Legacy whines and nudges your hand, your fingers trembling as your lungs constrict and your blood turns to ice; a sculpture that could shatter at any moment. “Childe- Legacy- I-” You don’t get any further before tears start running down your face. Large claws move to gently clasp your hands, and with a simple touch you break and begin to sob. You want to love him. You desperately want to reciprocate his affection, to give him the same easy, constant adoration he gives you. But something is just wrong with you. Everyone you know can love so easily, but you, you! You’re stuck, not knowing if what you feel is truly love or if you’re just fooling yourself because you want to have what everyone else has. You don’t want to be lonely, no matter how much you say it’s alright. But you don’t know if you can love either, because you’re broken and always have been. And if this dancing fire inside your heart is indeed love, you don’t know if you can love him enough, as Childe deserves so much more than you. You don’t know anything. Finally your endless, rambling sentences trail into nothingness, and you’re left with tear tracks on your cheeks, gazing shamefully at the floor. For once, Foul Legacy is silent, and you burn with self-loathing, hating that someone as broken as you has to stand in front of him, who’s perfect in every way to you. Something swipes underneath your eyes, making you blink and glance up at Legacy, gently brushing your tears away with his thumbs. He tenderly croons to you, the softest sound you’ve ever heard him make, and gingerly picks you up to place you on his lap. Exhausted from crying, you lean against his chest, the thumping rhythm of his strong, loving heart filling your mind as he curls his talons over your hands once again, leaning closer to press his forehead against the top of your head. Not broken. It feels like you’re speaking to both Foul Legacy and Childe, even if Legacy can’t talk in the way that you do. Not broken. Rumbles begin filtering from the Abyssal monster’s chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close enough to kiss. Not broken. Because you never were broken, not now, not ever. Love is fickle, temperamental- it comes and goes at its own pace, hopping from whichever person it wants to another and never staying in one spot. Some love everyone, the entire world is their friend, and no one is an enemy. Some don’t love at all, fulfilled without needing romantic relationships. Some love themselves, and inspire others to be kinder to their body and mind, as mortals only have one life. And some are like you, unable to see themselves loving or being loved, only to find that their harshest critic is from within. Not broken. You’re not broken, because both loving and not loving are perfectly reasonable ways of existing. Childe will not ask you to love him- he wants the emotions to be yours, not something you feel obligated to do in order to be “normal”- he’ll never stop loving you either way, even if you don’t feel the same. You’re crying again, overwhelmed by everything and nothing, but the fiery feeling in your chest swirls and bursts into something steady and beautiful, like firelight on a dark evening, and you give Foul Legacy a watery, grateful smile. Ah, you said it at last- those meaningful words. I love you.

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #foul legacy x reader #sfw #genshin sfw #genshin hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #tartagalia x reader #alright listen i don't have an excuse for this #i was inspired and had my own experiences and BOOM suddenly this fic exists #is it long winded and rambly? yes #does it not make a lick of sense? also yes #but it still hit close to home for me #i kinda have this ongoing realization that i really can't see myself loving anyone irl #and if i do i don't know how i'd deal with it because i'm already exhausted #how am i going to fit a romantic relationship in life #and it made me feel weird about myself. like something is Wrong with me because all my friends can do it but i can't #and the weird thing is!! i love fictional characters just fine!! but when it comes to irl i just cannot see myself doing it!! what the heck!#so yeah this is a combo of that and my anxiety whenever change happens because i need things to be calm in order to stay calm

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barrenclan · 4 months

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I think Time Deer by Bent Knee fits Rainhaze

Any song that calls someone a dog is pretty good for Mr. Haze.

"Oh, nasty dog You are choking on a cog in my time machine Drag you along to the times from which you run So you can see what I see"

"I was string thin, barren and scrambling for food My people exiled, subhuman and crude <- hello. literally barrenclan They took my lover and library too War left me vagrant with nothing to lose"

youtube

Oh my God, thank you for blasting me back in time with this. I watched the Flowey animatic with this song about a million times when I was deep in my Undertale phase. Also, yes, Rainhaze as hell, I could literally put every lyric here and they'd fit for him.

"They're-they're these terrors And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and It's like as if somebody was gripping my throat"

"Don't you breathe for me Undeserving of your sympathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did"

"A drink for the horror that I'm in For the good guys and the bad guys For the monsters that I've been Three cheers for tyranny Unapologetic apathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm coming back again"

"Sometimes I see flames And sometimes I see people that I love dying"

"And through it all How could you cry for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it So shut your eyes Kiss me goodbye And sleep"

youtube

It's definitely softer than I think of music for them, but those lyrics are pretty good. It's almost making me think more of Rainhaze talking to Slugpelt!

"Hey Bunny What if I lose you too If I become the monster Together we can always be blue"

"Hey Bunny Is that your name again It's making me laugh 'cause we used to be friends Hey bunny Am I talking in the mirror I only see myself as what we were"

I don't think so! I like it.

"I hate my work But I'm in control I'm fearless now But it cost my soul"

"It's alright to scream I'm screaming too Why'd you think I do the things I do? For shadows haunted me like ghosts So I became what I feared the most" <- Aw yeah

youtube

Okay real about the energy level, I feel that so hard. It would make a cool PMV though!

"He could never stand up 'Til he had to run Finger on the trigger Of an empty gun" <- Verse 1

"Well, she was on an upswing In the spring of life Dancing on a tight rope 'Til he brought the knife" <- Verse 2

youtube

I mean, if this whole post doesn't prove that Rainhaze is fantastic to staple music to his forehead, this should.

What a pretty song! Yes, definitely a great song for the overall story.

"I hear it calling/Deep down in my dreams/The wind is blowing/Something lost in me"

"There's nothing else to do/There's nowhere else to go/There's nothing else to live for, anymore"

youtube

It's on the playlist, in fact!

Oh I know this song! I used it in a speedpaint once. Ah, a particular context makes it very sad for me with Rainhaze.

"Save yourself I am far beyond repair They will bury me alive But I'm not inclined to care I am too far gone now, oh ohoho"

"Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily"

Silly, trying to slip another FNAF fansong past me. It can definitely work for Rainhaze, even if I can't listen to the whispering (I don't like ASMR).

youtube

#ask #anon #music #rainhaze #dustfeather #slugpelt #ranger

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imogenkol · 2 months

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— OCS AS CHARACTER TROPES

tagged by the lovely @corvosattano to do this uquiz! Thank you 💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

THE DISQUALIFIED

the disqualified [noun, origin unknown] refers to a character who's became too numb to the concept of the world, to the point of deeming oneself not able to express any sort of emotion, whether positive or a negative one. this state is usually the one to follow after feeling too much, as if to balance out the overwhelming sensation of human emotion. living up to their title, they often consider themselves 'disqualified' from being a human, forsaken and unloved, abandoned by the world they've never had interest in. they don't know where they belong or where should they go - every second of breathing air is a waste of oxygen someone worthier could use. the disqualified symbolize the constant state of feeling nothing but tiredness, state where all is merciless but the end. this is the one and only test outcome where i as the writer shall personally interfere - please, my most beloved disqualified, keep longing to feel again. there's so much you've never felt and so much you'll desire to feel again. in the words of Osamu Dazai (who's the creator of the title 'the disqualified' I so happily stole) - "Everything passes." a statement as short as it is true - everything passes, even the numbness. after it, you'll experience so much more beauty of the world - beauty that might pass just as the numbness did, but in it's temporary and unique nature lies the reason why it's to be cherished. so, please, try to hold on a bit. sometimes, holding on is the best we can do and most of the times, it's just enough. - a (former) fellow disqualified

THE ICARUS

[noun, greek origin] refers to a character, first curious and childish, who got so bored of the world's rotten nature they lost all hope in living. as the last resort to find the spark in the world of dying stars, the icarus may have attempted numerous times to touch the blazing surface of the sun, hoping to see any kind of redemption in the reflection of their face in the sun's flames. as a result, their wings were melted down and their bones broken by the harsh landing, yet that still didn't stop them from trying all over again. the people of icarus' nature often believe their place is with the stars and their desire to burn amongst them causes them to forget the beauty of the land they've abandoned, merely flying over it - the world has stored so much beauty for them they often struggle to see through the rays of sun and yet, it is still there. the most beautiful of flowers grow upon the lands their feet haven't even touched and maybe, just maybe, if they spared a bit of their time to give the (them forsaken) world another chance, they'd see that sky might not be the home they truly desire, but one they ve seeked just because they have seen only the worst of the world. - a fellow icarus

THE FALSE MUSE

the false muse [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that attempts to be perfect in order to receive certain amount of praise, or to inspire others to go in their footsteps. they tend to seek the spotlight, the podium, the gaze of the people looking up to them, with praise and validation being what keeps them pursuing the way of living they did before. the false muses surely have their goals, but the biggest one is to simply be better than yesterday and worse than tomorrow, to be in a constant state of self improvement they'll never deem enough. this is what leads them to the ocassional state of burnout, state one may describe as trying so hard to please the artist you become the opposite of a muse - hence why they're called false ones. the false muses might be tempted to think that they’ve never achieved perfection, but the truth is, there's no such thing as perfection, nor is there a way to achieve it. all muses could long for is merely the perfect version of themselves and they’ve achieved that already, over a thousand times.

THE SAINT

the saint [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that has taken upon themselves the role of saint via listening to prayers, concerns and troubles of others. characters falling under this cathegory are obviously merely metaphorical saints, which is a quality many people struggle to realize. the saints are said to be helpful and caring under any circumstance, believing that making themselves useful increases their self worth in the eyes of people they care about. they often forget that they are indeed humans in roles of saints, that they still have human limitations and problems that can potentially pile up until they fall from the metaphorical heavens they occupy...yet mostly, this doesn't stop them from taking burdens from people and putting it on their own back in hopes of being more responsible in taking care of them. there's strange naivety in the good they do, slight hope that they can take everything and anything they try to fix and help out with. this naivety is often replaced with denial and regret as soon as one realizes that sometimes, it's impossible to pose as a saint. but that's just the tragic cycle of them - trying to help out, getting dragged from heavens by the burden they voluntarily stole, falling, laying on the ground wide-eyed and tired before climbing back into the clouds again. as of now, there's no cure to being one of the saints - it is up to them to realize that they are not responsible for anyone's happiness apart from their own and that it's not selfish to put them before others. it's natural and - as much as they want to stray away from it - human. - a fellow saint

#oc insp: Imogen Kol #oof does hers really hit #oc insp: Vaune Iyer #I feel like she’s gotten an Icarus result before. self explanatory #oc insp: noa #not me casually dropping the new kid into the mix :)#earth kingdom/water tribe baby who may or may not have a thing with Kuvira 🤫#she’s an earth/metal bender #oc insp: Nadya Bishop #poor girl this quiz read her for filth

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leinco · 23 days

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Random idea for an IF that popped into my head

I don't know if I've ever talked about this but my mind tends to wander. While working on Onryō, my mind got distracted as usual. And I ended up coming up with this Idea for an IF that I quite love. Of course, Onryō is my main focus, and I would want to finish that first before seriously beginning work on this, but I just wanted to ensure the idea was out there and to see what people thought.

(Please note, this is all subject to change. I still haven't worked out all the details, but the core idea is set.)

18+ due to violence, sexual implications, and other themes that may be triggering.

This idea stemmed from me wanting to combine my two favourite genres: Superpowers and Sci-Fi, so here it is:

Working title: Child of Sin

Your father is the Galaxy's most infamous supervillain. He is responsible for many incidents on planets across the Galaxy. You are the youngest child of 4, and while your father does love you dearly, the thing is, he is a supervillain. So naturally, you are expected to be a pawn in his plans.

The first half of the game will involve you accompanying your siblings on expeditions to various planets to train your powers (your powers will be able to be selected from a list of three, of which your Father has them all), and to just generally sow chaos. Saying that, here are the characters: Earl Astatine: Patron of the GAFEE (Galactic Alliance For Evil Enthusiasts.) Your Father, Earl Astatine (real name unknown.) Is the most infamous and powerful supervillain in the galaxy. He is famously hot-headed, yet can back up his words with his immense combat skill. Despite his short temper, he is highly intelligent, and the plans he cooks up have brought many a planet to it's knees. He has the powers of Telepathy, Pyrokinesis, and Telekinesis.

Rose: The gentle and loving oldest sister with thorns.

Your oldest sister, Rose. She inherited telepathy from your father. She is the one who took care of you as you grew up, and as a result is the closest to you. But she treats you like a baby in need of protecting. It's up to you whether you prove her right or wrong.

Despite her gentle nature, when matters do not concern her siblings, she is incredibly cold and calculating. She frequently speaks in metaphors, and sometimes acts as tactical advisor to the GAFEE. However, she is is still skilled with an energy blade. If anyone dares threaten her siblings, especially her beloved youngest sibling, their blood will run in the streets.

Gabriel: The second oldest. An angel of blood and love.

Your only brother, Gabriel. He inherited telekinesis from your father. Backdoor deals, political assassinations, one-night-stands. Gabriel is a diplomat at heart, and is perhaps more ruthless with his words than his powers. On any one occasion, a crowd of love-struck men and women can be seen following after him, proclaiming that he told them "You're the only one for me, sweetheart!". (He told that to all of them.)

But he is no stranger to getting his hands bloody when the situation calls for it. If a backdoor political deal goes wrong or out of his favour, the next day the police might just discover a body crushed by intense force. He is fond of his youngest sibling, but mostly lets Rose coddle you.

Carina: The third oldest. The flame warrior with a heart of fire.

Your second sister, Carina. If there was one of your siblings who inherited your Father's arrogance and hot-headedness, it is most definitely Carina. Combine this with the fact that she inherited his Pyrokinesis, and you have a recipe for destruction the likes of which most planets have never seen.

Along with her axe forged from a dying star, she is without a doubt the strongest fighter of your siblings. Unfortunately, her temper often gets her into arguments with your elder siblings, though she does try and hold back against you. But she is content to let your siblings and father make the plans, so long as she gets to burn something.

I am not sure if I will add romance options at this point, as I want the IF to be a sort of slice-of-life focusing on relationships between siblings in a situation such as the one I have presented, but it is not off the table.

Along the way, you will be able to choose which sibling you are closest to, if you dislike them, etc. You will also be able to decide whether you want to betray your father, or work wholeheartedly with him. Depending on your relationships with your siblings, you might be able to convince them to join you if you choose the former option.

The final half of the game will involve your Father's quote on quote, biggest plan to date, and this is where you will have your right of passage as an official member of the GAFEE. Betray, or serve. What is more important, Family, or Obedience?

I hope you like this idea as much as I do!

#if wip #choicescript #the onryō of osaka #interactive fiction #interactive novel

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sunrise-imagines · 7 months

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DYING for huntress wizard x reader 🙏

I feel you, honestly Flame Princess was always my favorite of Finn’s love interests as a kid but I’ve grown to love Huntress Wizard!

Note: I won’t always mention it, but I headcanon Huntress Wizard and all her incarnations as being autistic. If you don’t agree with that or it makes you uncomfortable, then you don’t have to read my work. Thank you!

Huntress Wizard x Reader Relationship Headcanons

• The most chill partner to ever exist.

• If you suggested wanting to have a poly or open relationship, she would be totally fine with it. If you have more love to give, who is she to hold you back from your instincts?

• Loves to swim in lakes, streams, ponds, rivers etc. and will invite you to join her. She also usually does this naked because it allows to more fully become one with the water, it’s completely non-sexual for her.

• Never lies and despises liars, she doesn’t care what it’s about, she will always be completely honest and expects the same from you.

• Spends 99.8% of her time outdoors, so if you don’t like being outside chances are you won’t see much of her.

• She doesn’t portray a lot of emotion on her face which makes it hard to tell how she’s feeling, but she usually will just tell you if something is bothering her.

• Goes by she/they pronouns

• If you want her to teach you magic it will take some convincing. Nature magic can be especially difficult and she admits that she isn’t the most effective teacher, but she’ll try her best if you really want to.

• You’re the only one she’s comfortable enough to take off her hood and mask with.

• She tends to get overwhelmed when there are too many people around that she doesn’t know, so she likes to hold your hand in crowds so she always knows where you are.

• Often spouts random facts about different flora and fauna while you guys walk through the forest, she could talk about wildlife for hours on end.

• Only hunts creatures who are either invasive to the ecosystem or are causing too much unnecessary damage, and she’s able to communicate with and tame most non-hostile animals.

• She’s very sensitive to touch, so it will take some time for her to get used to things like cuddling for long periods of time.

• if you’re sick she has all sorts of natural and herbal remedies to try and help you, though some of them are on the more extreme side (elk’s heart)

• Rarely ever cries, but when she does she remains completely silent, the only indication of her sorrow being tears streaming down her face.

• She likes to have time to herself sometimes, and it’s nothing against you, she just needs time to decompress from interacting with others.

• Loves just laying next to you and watching the sky, talking about your deepest inner thoughts.

• Her biggest hope is that you can join her in defending the forest, but she would never push that on you if it’s not what you want. More than anything she wants you to follow your heart and do what feels right for you, and no matter what she’ll always be on your side.

#adventure time x reader #adventure time imagines #fionna and cake x reader #adventure time #fionna and cake fanfic #fionna and cake imagine #adventure time fanfic #huntress wizard x reader #huntress wizard #sfw #sfw headcanons

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firstdivisiongirl · 11 months

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One Piece Headcannon: Short S/O

Zoro:

Zoro is one of my favorites. Like almost as much as Ace (like a .01 different) Will definitively just pick your up and carry you around

It’s an extra workout for him

Not that he’s calling you fat, your just good for an extra workout

You are now his new pillow or a living breathing teddy bear

Either way, escape is futile!

You are on his lap all the time

Doesn’t matter where or when that’s your new seat

Know how he carried and dragged Chopper around in Alabasta?

That’s you!

Laughs a little when people think you are his kid or little sister

But the boy knows what it’s like to feel small and weak so he doesn’t tease too much but he can’t help himself from laughing about it sometimes

Koby:

I love this bean so much!

No judging me! To each our own.

Literally thinks you are the cutest thing ever.

Don’t be shocked if the boy hugs you all the time.

He’s a dweeb.

But he’s YOUR dweeb

Will hide you behind if there is a weird noise

Is probably the one of the few OP boys who doesn’t tease his S/O for being short

He knows what it’s like to be made fun of and wants you to feel good about yourself

Likes to rest his chin on your head and hug you from behind to surprise you when you comes back from a long mission.

You always know it’s him but still find him so cute

Boy would lift you up so you can see above people’s heads anywhere where it’s crowded

Will give you nicknames like little lady or munchkin

I’m getting all warm and fuzzy inside just writing this

Ace:

Oh flame brain!

Let the teasing begin.

If you are talking to him, he totally going to be like “wait y/n, where are you? I can’t see you.”

He’s so getting punched for that

Will give you head pats

ALL THE TIME

He doesn’t know why but he feels like it’s just necessary

Puts his dumb little hat on your head.

Thinks when you have it on you look like 10x cuter

Like Koby, his chin is always resting on top of your head and hugs you

But Ace does it, hopefully makes you feel safe

I’m dying of cuteness with those last two 😊

Monkey D. Luffy

Not gonna lie, he’s just like his big bro!

But he doesn’t realize he’s teasing you

He thinks he’s being nice

“What’s wrong with carrying you around like a sack of potatoes or calling you pipsqueak?

Will definitely take your food (no shocker there)

Thinks you don’t need as much food because you’re small

You remember when he had Chopper carrying him around?

Don’t be shocked if he tries that

But in the end, he lets you hide behind him and scary situations and promises to protect you no matter what!

His hat on your head is something that occurs a lot like Ace

But Luffy does it more as a symbol of comfort or love than just because it’s cute

He knows it’s cute though

Please do not copy, modify, translate, repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar d nami #heacanons #monkey d luffy #portgas d. ace #roronoa zoro #koby one piece

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b1eeding-sun · 8 months

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Sometimes I see flames

And sometimes I see people that I love dying

I'm really bad at this whole posting consistently thing arnt I? Sorry. It will happen again.

#mcr #my chemical romance #my chemical art #gerard way #art #traditional art #mcr posting #gerard way mcr #the art is the weapon #swarm #swarm tour

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oubliette-odette · 7 months

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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 6

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Word Count: 2148 (average 16 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

Altan POV

It had been ten days since Drunrag left to find a way to stop lordhovid. I didn’t want to tell Drun and worry him, but I was becoming restless with him gone and things got progressively worse for me. The first few days he had left, I felt like I was able to stay composed rather well. I would visit the markets and spend my evenings in the tavern below my room, sometimes playing my lute which helped me to pay for the extra nights that I hadn’t planned on staying there. Some of the patrons would comment on my flushed composure, but I chalked it up to being new in town and unfamiliar with the warm temperature and that I was sensitive to the fire from the giant hearth in the tavern. But there eventually came a boiling point - for lack of a better word - where I would wake up with a flame inside me that was insatiable. There was nothing that could abate how utterly starved I was to be near Drun.

I spent the latter days in my room at the inn, the door locked. The bedsheets were on the floor because they were too much for me. I would try to read or play or write music, but I usually ended up lost in a heated daze, caught between daydreams of Drun and the fuzzy reality around me.

I still felt that hunger in our dreams, though thankfully not as strong. I would see him, see his beautiful austere visage all nervous and quiet. He looked like his skin was cool and I wanted to press my hand to his and let my burning flesh be cooled by his. But he would always hold back. He was so gods damned respectful of my space. And I honestly wish he wouldn’t be. I was dying to be touched by him. I wanted to know what his tusks would feel against my skin as he kissed my neck. Or how those rough hands would run coarsely against my waist.

Gods, I was a mess.

I knew my father would strike me if he ever caught the sight of me during that time. I was overheated, over aroused, and desperate to be touched by a man - an orc no less. All of those things were unacceptable to him.

He could honestly go fuck himself for all I cared.

Those nights, dreaming with Drun were the moments I held my breath for every night. I liked seeing the way his eyes struggled to meet mine, but when they did, he seemed to struggle looking away. I like how when I said his name, his eyes would also grow wide for just a few moments and his lips would twitch to a dazed smile. He was easy to please, incredibly shy and hard to get him to say more than a few words. But I loved asking him questions, I loved watching how deeply he thought about each question, taking his time and pondering. He reminded me of a tree sometimes. He was large like a tree trunk and tall, but he was deeply rooted and not in a hurry to rush to the next thought. Meanwhile I felt like I was nothing more than a squirrel that climbed up and down his limbs again and again and again at rapid speed. Every minute in his presence had my brain whirling at what to say next, to resist telling him how handsome he was to me, to not talk too fast and overwhelm him.

I learned how patient and kind Drun was through those conversations, and it started to make a little more sense each night why this mating situation was so hard for him. For him, he really needed to think things over and really mull over his decisions. Lordhovid took away the chance to think about his choice from him and it really affected how he viewed his people’s culture. I could tell he struggled with the reality that his way of thinking was so different from his family, but I couldn’t help but admire his devotion to his own personal truths.

I never pressed him on how he was doing in his journey. I dreaded to know if he was close to finding a way to stop lordhovid and there was secretly a hope that maybe all of these dream conversations would help him change his mind.

So I didn’t expect it when one afternoon I was laying my head against the pane of glass in my room when suddenly I felt my body temperature reduce - like a fever had broken - and I lifted my head, sensing the clarity and focus I had lacked for so many weeks. Everything was suddenly in intense focus and I looked around my room - an absolute disaster - and realized that I was fine. I was…normal.

I didn’t know what my reaction was at that time. It was stuck between relief at finally being free and my muscles loose from their tension, but also stunned and sad.

Drunrag did it. He had managed to rid himself - and me - of the mating instinct that kept us tied together.

It also meant that Drunrag now had no reason to ever see me again. Nothing was pulling him to me like before. I realized that with a sense of dread and hopelessness. He was so determined to not sleep with me. So determined to be rid of our connection.

Doubt crept in almost immediately - maybe Drun had only been nice to me because he could distract me while he removed lordhovid. Maybe he was only nice to me because I told him he was my first real friend and he felt bad for me. Maybe he won’t come back now that he’s rid of me. Maybe he hated how easy I was to be wanted by him, just like my father hates me for it. Should I wait for him? Do I tell him everything I felt for him?

I shut my eyes tight and willed the thoughts away. No, Drun would come back and we would be…friends.

I sat, stunned in my room. I looked around and groaned at the disaster I had lived in for the last week while Drun had been gone. The sheets, sweaty and crumpled on the floor, next to a pile of unwashed clothes. A pile of plates that needed to be returned to the tavern downstairs was sitting at the small table in the corner.

I sighed. There was nothing I could do about Drun right now. I uttered a small prayer to Alunis - the Sun God - that Drun would return to me safely and I got to my feet and set about getting my life back in order. I would wait for him, my Drun, to return to me. I had not planned to stay here as long as I had, but I would be careful. I promised not to do anything stupid while I waited.

I gathered the sheets and the clothes and with a few extra coins and a smile, I gave them to the innkeeper’s wife to wash. Her services were thorough and as she took my linens in a basket to a counter behind her, she looked me up and down and told me I was too thin and in need of a good bath. She shoved a plateful of food into my hands and sat me down. I felt her eyes watching me, making sure I took every bite before she lifted me by the collar and pushed me out the door with a token to the bathhouse to get myself cleaned up.

I wandered the streets, still dazed. I wasn’t used to feeling so normal yet. For the past almost three weeks I had been in a state of feverish tension, and my muscles still felt the soreness of being caught in that state of tension for so long.

The bathhouse was quiet during the middle of the day and there were only a few other patrons there. I had never experienced a public bathhouse before. Having the father I did meant that I lived in constant privilege which included private baths. The man at the entrance took my token and guided me to a room to leave my clothes, before stepping out into a large room with a pool of hot, steaming water. I glanced around nervously, catching nobody’s gaze as I stepped into the steam-filled room naked and shivering. It was commonplace for these folk for everyone here to be nude, but I found myself unaccustomed to it and unsure where to keep my eyes.

Once in the water though, I felt my body relax and I breathed deeply, letting the steam fill my lungs with that wet, humid air. This was heavenly. I sighed and sunk my head into the water. My hair had been neglected these past few days and I apologized profusely in my head to the old woman who used to care for it for me.

I kept my eyes closed and I let the warm water wash away the sweat and the history of the last few days from my body. I reveled in being myself again, as much as it caused me angst to know what that would mean next. I stayed until my fingers and toes were wrinkled and I stepped out, dripping and wet and padded back into the room where my clothes sat. I reached for a clean towel from a pile and tousled my hair dry and padded myself off. My clothes were still not clean - but I suffered the experience of putting them back on with a promise that I would wear clean clothes as soon as I got back to my room.

I turned to step out of the bathhouse when I bumped into a large, sturdy chest. I yelped and stepped back, blinking in alarm.

I saw the red phoenix insignia on his chest before I saw his face and I felt my body go cold.

No, I thought, my mind racing, they found me, they found me, they’re going to take me away from Drun.

I shook my head, panic already settling into my bones.

“Altan Hilmar, son of Archduke Taliesin Hilmar?” The man asked. His voice was low, unfeeling and commanding. He looked to be in his fifties, with a full beard and brown eyes that looked down at me as if I were nothing more than a petulant child.

I shook my head again.

He didn’t react to my reluctance to answer, instead he continued, “You are to return to Berdusk where your father will enact the proper consequences for running away.”

“Please.” I breathed, “I can’t go back to him. I won’t go.”

“My orders are clear, young Hilmar, you will come with me to Berdusk.”

“Have you no mercy?” I pleaded. “I will not cause my father any dishonor, but please don’t make me leave. I have to stay here.”

“I am a patient man, Hilmar.” The man continued. “But I also will not tolerate bargaining. I only obey one master, and that is the honourable Duke Hilmar. Now, after you.” He gestured to the door, I looked out and saw that there were two other armoured men with the same insignia on their chests waiting for me.

I couldn’t bow my head in defeat, I couldn’t cry. Not in front of these men. They all watched me closely, carefully. I’m sure they all saw me as some spoiled, rich son of the duke who ran away to be reckless and ungrateful. They probably saw me as weak and useless without any notable skill, but I would not let them see me shrink under their stares. My mother told me my strength was different. I raised my chin high and regarded the man before me. “I will need my belongings.” I said.

“They have already been collected from the inn you were staying at.” The man answered. “Now, move along. We’re taking you home.”

There were too many thoughts in my head as I walked between the line of guards that led me through the walking streets until we arrived upon the stable where a carriage was waiting. I looked down one road, knowing that it led to Drun’s forge. I felt a stutter in my heart as I realized that Drun would return to find me gone.

It was then I could no longer hold my head up strong. I had no way to tell him where I was going. That I wanted to stay. That I was so fond of him, and I admired him and was so grateful that he trusted me and that we were each other’s first friend.

I wish I could have told him that I was falling in love with him.

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