#container for holy oils

[onlygodknowsimgood]

When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

‎As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

‎After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

‎Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

‎In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

‎I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

‎They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

‎I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli soldiers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

‎Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that.

- Dima Seelawi

#palestine #olive trees #olive oil #فلسطين

[knightsickness]

westerosi perfume culture thoughts based on medieval/early modern ^^

incense in septs to the point of both cat and sansa immediately thinking of the smell of it when thinking about the faith. this is fully a ‘the faith is just catholicism’ thing theres reference to a censer being used at tywin’s funeral, though this is also to cover the smell of the body - i believe its implied theyre using a lot more incense than they typically would and failing to overpower the rot smell

scented candles and incense are both used in septs and to scent rooms - scented candles higher-end, beeswax candles, which even unscented smell quite sweet and are quite expensive (they burn cleanly and don’t spit). animal fat tallow candles are much cheaper but perfume can’t stop rotting fat smelling of rotting fat it just combines with it. tallow tends to be used in poorer settings, for light not scent

scented beeswax candles used by tyrion and cat, and in the sept of baelor - imo v unlikely most smallfolk or smaller septs are buying them regularly, especially considering how many candles they need to keep lit. i’d say tallow 90% of the time beeswax on holy days

basically every noble in kings landing seems to wear perfume, ned specifically repulsed by the fact that robert now does which is crazy. whats roberts taste in perfume like

varys specifically is always described as perfumed, which is like. effeminacy due to eunuch status he leans into but also his ambiguous origin - while a lot of people in westeros wear perfume it seems to be significantly more popular in the free cities + beyond, vv frequently mentioned in dany chapters

perfumed and powdered often go together, varys and lysa off the top of my head - powders could also be scented, quite popular in france

multiple references to oldtown being heavily perfumed, dual reference to incense as a faith centre and worn perfume on a dowager, oldtown as a wealthy city and consumer centre

perfume also strongly associated with prostitution, an irony - septs and brothels often scented with incense, the ‘perfumed boy’ slaves victarion kills, satin wearing scent in his beard

popular scents rarely described in more detail than a type of flower or ‘sweet’ - most interesting perfume a westerosi lady wears is taena’s wildflower and musk, which cersei compares to the smell of moss

the tyrells seem to only wear rosewater this is pretty explicitly part of their branding as a house. even the blue bard a tyrell servant washes his hair with rosewater. most roses actually don’t distill well i’m assuming they have some westerosi equivalent to damask roses grown in bulk at highgarden or some other reach territory (probably at highgarden their scent in the gardens would be part of the tyrell image cultivation there. henry viii did this specific thing so you would smell his rose perfume in the gardens even when he was away from home which some historians have referred to as a ‘serve’) only like two varieties of rose work in perfuming. i’d also speculate that the roses margaery and her ladies brought to tywin’s funeral, if they were strong-smelling enough to cover the smell of an unnaturally rotting corpse, were probably roses scented with rosewater

perfume application on people typically oils, waters and more rarely waxes - multiple mentions of perfumed beards or hairstyles and waxes would be easier for that - perfume in baths common for the wealthy

no mention of scented accessories e.g. gloves or fans, though both immensely popular in elizabethan england - are there civet cats or equivalent in westeros? there are whales and thus presumably ambergris, taena’s perfume referred to as musky but unclear if this means it contains actual musk - animal perfumes are best for scenting leather, strong and waxy and other lighter scents can cling to them. dany wears scented silk clothes

tyrion associates worn perfume strongly with old whores, which suggests cheap perfume widely accessible, probably perfumer’s shops in major cities (notable bc otherwise we could conclude perfumers worked primarily for aristocratic patrons)

there are probably westerosi perfume-makers but its also likely theres a solid luxury import trade - dorne and the free cities both have established distinct perfume cultures and strong trade links with merchants

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

[badbtssmut]

Cult 0T7 fic.

What happens when one’s sin is too big for the highest deity to forgive? Seven individuals who have committed the most hideous crimes, show up at your town; paying the holy leader of the cult heaps of money to have you cleanse them of their sins. Whatever happens in a cult, stays in a cult.

Contains: cult themes, public sex, rough sex, members fighting over who can fuck y/n first, members are driven crazy by lust, double penetration in pussy, triple penetration ass and pussy, double blowjob, attempt at trice blowjob but fails, riding, idk what else

Admin note: I deliberately kept any details and references to any religion as vague as possible.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the last full moon of the month, a time for celebrating the harvest and honoring the God that you and the people you cherished worshipped religiously, night to day, day to night. A special night, as it was only on this night where mortals were granted forgiveness for sins that wouldn’t be excused by human beings; sins that were too vile for any mortal to overlook, but a sin that a God could forgive, so long as you repented.

So long as you repented…

…and had sexual intercourse on the last full moon of the month, a practice that all of you were willing to participate in. Word got around quick and sex tourists desperately tried to participate, but your town shouldn’t be seen as some sort of sex theme park. No, this was a sacred ritual that you and the other people in the town participated in, to the point where you all saw it as an act of tradition without batting an eye at the freakiness of it all.

The head of the cult would never steer you wrong, he knew what was best for the town.

“Seven individuals have come to partake in our tradition tonight.” The wise man spoke, a smile plastered on his face. “We know that seven is a sacred number, don’t we? This cannot be a coincidence! It is the will of the Gods that this will be done. Our town will prosper, I assure you all of this.” He spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming in the light of the candle and fire.

He looked back at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ready, my child?” He led you to the hot springs. “The Gods will surely be pleased with this outcome, as will we all be once the harvest is bountiful in our town.”

You were more than ready to go through with this, the Gods would bless the town.

You left the man behind as you were welcomed by the two elder sisters who prepared you for the tradition; scrubbing your body, soaping it, and then softening your skin with a blend of almond and coconut oil. Your hair was dried before they wrapped the silk robe around you, a hug and a kiss on the cheek given by one of the two, before you walked off and made your way to where the tradition would take place.

There was an open space in the far back of the town; far enough to scare off tourists but near enough for interested townspeople to come and have a look. It was surrounded by torches and candles, an altar placed at the center of the open area, decorated with roses, lilies, and daisies. A swing hung from a tree, a bed of soft furs and blankets a few feet from the swing, and water flowing nearby.

Seven wooden chairs were lined up in front of the altar, each seat occupied by seven strangers, before you could have a closer look, the leader of the cult spoke up.

“Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook, you are all welcome here.” The man glanced over to the crowd before looking back at the men. “May the Gods be gracious to us all, for we are all pure-hearted, and our intentions are true and good, we come together for one goal and one goal only: the will of the Gods!” The audience clapped, some of the older ones praying under their breath.

You sat on the furs, the silk robe still on, and you watched the seven men walk down the path that the people created for them. It wasn’t something you’d normally think about, but you couldn’t help but notice how handsome each of them were, every man holding a unique feature that made you stare.

You laid back on the furs, a pillow under your head, and waited, watching as they undressed themselves and like a pack of wild animals, they pounced on you. Hands roamed all over your body, fingers pinching and twisting your nipples, fingers rubbed your clit, lips sucked at your neck, hands caressed your thighs, tips were pushed at your entrance before you were forcibly pulled back by another member who was eager to fuck you first.

They argued, they bickered, they fought, they shoved each other, your body bounced back and forth as they wrestled and tried to pull you into their arms, Yoongi grabbed hold of you and dragged you across the furs and blankets, before the rest of the men piled on top of you, two cocks pushed into your mouth while another cock rubbed against your face.

You looked up to see that the three cocks belonged to Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. In your left hand, you held Namjoon’s cock, while your right hand held Hoseok’s cock. There were so many cocks that you were starting to lose count.

You felt Yoongi’s tip push in before it was abruptly pushed away by Seokjin’s tip, their cocks pushing and rubbing against each other before both slid into your pussy. You let out a gasp, mouth wide open, cocks slipping out, before they were hastily pushed back into your mouth. The two men inside of you fucked you in tandem, their cocks brushing against each other.

You took shaky breaths through your nose, focusing on sucking their cocks, while also focusing on rubbing the cocks that you held in your hands. Seokjin held onto your hips while Yoongi’s fingers dug into your ass, them both pushing you back and forth on their cocks, bouncing you back and forth. Taehyung who was rubbing his cock against your face, felt himself grow impatient, and pushed himself into your mouth, but when he realized it wouldn’t fit, he pulled back out.

The citizens watched, some bursting into tears, others clapping, a few cheering, the majority chanting and praying, but they were all proud of the ritual being carried out so far. They’d make sure to praise you after you’re done, bring you gifts and your favorite treats as a reward for your outstanding work.

You felt Seokjin’s pace turn sloppy and frantic, his moans louder than before, and not even a second later, he came. He filled you up first, panting, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He stayed inside of you for a while longer, until he finally pulled out.

Yoongi didn’t allow anyone to take Jin’s place, he continued fucking you, his pace fast and hard. You couldn’t help the lewd noises that slipped past your lips, and you didn’t care how loud you were. The only thing on your mind was the cock slamming into your pussy.

Jimin switched places with Taehyung, now his cock in your mouth while Jimin stepped back and enjoyed the show. Jungkook tilted his head back as he pushed his hips further towards your face, digging his cock deeper into your mouth.

Soon after, Yoongi’s seed spilled inside of you, and you clenched around his cock. He groaned, biting down on his lip, pulling out of you. Your pussy was only left alone for a few seconds before Hoseok eagerly took the spot. He sat down next to you before he pulled you onto his lap, earning some annoyed groans and glares from the men as their cocks slipped out of your mouth and hands.

Hoseok lifted you up and down, bouncing you on his cock, and he held a smile on his face at how soaking wet and warm your pussy was. Namjoon took the opportunity to ram his cock into your needy pussy, both him and Hoseok fucking you in tandem, and the pleasure was too much. You screamed and moaned, the cocks stuffed inside of you were making you feel lightheaded. You could feel Hoseok’s tongue drag over your neck as Namjoon kneaded your chest, your breasts filling his large hands.

Your ears rang, your mind went blank, and everything felt blurry, but the men continued to fuck you. Your head tilted back as Namjoon and Hoseok changed the rhythm, Namjoon pounding into your pussy while Hoseok slowly fucked into you. The three of you continued to go on like this, the cocks stuffing you to the brim, until Hoseok and Namjoon both came, their seed filling you up.

One of the sisters on standby, stepped in to offer you a cup of water, before she bowed and stepped back, not wanting to stand in the way of you finishing. You took a minute to breathe and catch your breath, before the three youngest were left.

You were taken away from the blankets and brought to one of the chairs, where Taehyung sat down and pulled you onto his lap. He held you into place as he pushed his errection into your ass, stretching your hole and earning a squeak from you. As he fucked your ass, Jungkook and Jimin stepped over. Jungkook went straight for pushing his cock into your pussy, while Jimin decided to make you suck his cock for a few minutes before he also pushed in his cock into your pussy.

The chair creaked and shifted under the weight and force of the three men fucking you relentlessly, but you couldn’t even hear it, your hearing fuzzy and your sight blurry.

“Oh! Oh!” You gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape, unable to do anything but allow the three men to use your holes however they pleased. It was too much— too much pleasure at the same time, but it was so good, too good. Drool dripped down your chin, your hair a mess, your robe abandoned somewhere on the ground. First Taehyung would thrust, before pulling out, which was when Jimin pushed in, along with Jungkook, before they’d switch their pace and start alternating again.

Taehyung was the first to come, his seed spilling inside of you, and as soon as he pulled out, it was when Jimin and Jungkook came as well, filling you up with their seed.

You were left panting, drool dripping from your mouth and tears in your eyes. The sisters stood by your side and wrapped a warm towel around you. Your legs were shaking, and you felt wobbly so you sat back down, shit, you needed a break after that.

“Now I declare, that all of you have been cleared of your sins…

Jungkook, Battery

Jimin, Extortion

Taehyung, Kidnapping

Seokjin, Murder

Namjoon, Burglary

Yoongi, Cybercrime

Hoseok, Arson…”

#bts smut #bts requests #bts x reader #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #bts ot7 smut #bts x female reader

[mindblowingscience]

A Scottish research team believe they may have produced the "holy grail" alternative to palm oil. It is estimated that almost half of all food and cosmetic products on supermarket shelves contain palm oil. The huge demand has led to significant deforestation in areas where oil palm trees can grow near the equator. Food experts at Queen Margaret University (QMU) in Edinburgh say their new 100% plant-based ingredient is 70% better for the environment. And with 80% less saturated fat and 30% fewer calories, they are also hailing PALM-ALT as a significantly healthier option. Catriona Liddle, one of the lead developers on the QMU team, said: "It's the holy grail to replace it and still have exactly the same end result in product - to taste the same and have the texture the same - and we've done that.

Continue Reading.

#Palm Oil #deforestation #Chemistry #Biology #Stem #agriculture

[vivid-ink]

okay since ur req is open rn i have an idea and ofc i don’t mind waiting, take ur time w it! basically it’s a neteyam x reader angst + fluff (oblivious idiots + opposites attract trope) whereby reader is loak’s bestfriend, who also has a crush on neteyam but keeps it a secret bcs she thought neteyam sees her as another troublesome little sibling like loak but what she doesn’t know is that neteyam also has a crush on her but he thought she sees him only as loak’s boring and non adventurous older brother. idk how it should go from that but can you please PLEASE ends it w fluff 🙏 thank you in advance! feel free to change anything and take as much time as you’d need bby 💓

Thank you for your request anon! 😁 I got on to this a lot quicker than I thought as my ideas for it came to me & boy did it just flow! I thought it was going to be a quick drabble, but holy moly, how have I ended up with 11.3k words of angst, drama, romance & sweet, sweet fluff! I hope you love it, anon! And I hope everyone else enjoys it too!

"Your Best Friend's Brother"

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader No warnings apply - Just a boat-load of angst, drama, protective & possessive Neteyam, romance & toe-curling fluff. Again, I personally do not like the use of 'Y/N' so your name in this is 'Kalia' (pronounced KAA-lee-yah). Language note - paskalin means 'sweet berry' and it's a term of endearment.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

Neteyam trudged through the verdant underbrush of the woodlands following the sound of playful slapping and squealing in the distance where he was sure he would find you and Lo’ak. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, wondering what mischief and hazardous activities you would both be getting up to today. Fiddling with the string of his bow across his front, he readjusted his bow to sit more comfortably across his torso. The little leather pack that contained his carving implements and bow oil bounced lightly at his hip as he walked.

Granted, it was nice having days off from his warriors’ duties. Group hunts and patrols could be strenuous depending on the game being hunted and the distance travelled, so the days where he could just relax on home ground and let loose were appreciated. Until his parents foisted the responsibility of keeping Lo’ak out of trouble on him…

Lo’ak was only a year younger than him, but Neteyam often ruminated and marvelled at how his brother’s maturity level was still leagues behind his own. Of course, being the oldest child did force one to grow up a little too quickly, but at already seventeen years of age, one would think that Lo’ak would have a better compass and not such a huge proclivity for getting into trouble.

If Neteyam was honest, the only thing that made the days he had to babysit his brother bearable was you.

You and Lo’ak might as well be joined at the hip. The best of friends since you could both walk, everywhere Lo’ak went, you went with him. Every stupid little game or dangerous stunt Lo’ak pulled, you were right there beside him. You had always tagged along with Lo’ak and his other siblings. So, for the longest time, Neteyam had not thought much of the way things were and it had not bothered him; you and Lo’ak, the disruptive duo.

However, things had begun to shift ever so subtly for Neteyam as he grew older, as you all did, growing and maturing into young adults. The older he got, the more he noticed you. His body started to react and respond to you in a way that made him increasingly aware that he was a young man and you were a young woman.

Neteyam began to notice the way your beautiful braids brushed the small of your back. He began to notice the enticing way your slim waist flared out to the curve of your hips and your bottom; the soft rounds of your breasts behind your clothing…

It had hit him quite suddenly one evening and things had never been the same since.

*** FLASHBACK ***

“Kalia!” Neteyam heard Tuk cry gleefully. His little sister bounced through his family’s shelter to throw herself at you, uncaring of the thumping impact she made against your thighs. Your laugh was jovial as you bent to give Tuk a hug, expertly balancing the wooden platter you held in your other hand.

Neteyam watched as you greeted his parents politely at the threshold, stepping into the space only when his mother welcomed you in with a wave of her hand. Neytiri embraced you affectionately and returned your greeting, “Oel ngati kameie, Kalia. Come in. What wonderful food have you brought to spoil us with today?”

The wooden platter held two mounds, one much bigger than the other, both wrapped in cooking cloth. You gently set the platter down in the centre of the space where the food mats were, “Mother and I have been practising making tumpasuk (red-orange berry) sweet bread. This batch was quite successful so we thought we’d share.”

“Ah, you know your cooking is always welcome in my household.” Jake sniggered, patting his belly enthusiastically.

Reaching back towards the platter, you picked up the smaller wrapped mound of bread and rose to your feet. Neteyam saw you scan the vicinity and his heart gave an involuntary skip when your vivid green eyes eventually landed on him and your gazes locked. A small smile played across your lips and he was suddenly drawn to how succulent they looked, a thought that made his ears heat in embarrassment.

You made your way towards him and Neteyam had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth and school his expression into one of nonchalance, lest his face betray the sensual thoughts that his brain had begun to annotate about you as you approached. You had grown very pretty in recent years and despite the nuisance that you and Lo’ak always presented, Neteyam realised that you had always been a very sweet girl. A very sweet, very pretty girl.

“Hey Neteyam,” Your voice was a tender lilt in his ears and he lifted his hands to receive the small mound as you held the sweet treat out to him in both of yours, “This one is for you.”

Neteyam swallowed tightly, hoping the heat in his cheeks and ears were not colouring his skin too obviously, “Thanks, Kalia. I’m sure it’ll taste amazing, as always.”

The soft peal of your giggling tickled his ears then and Neteyam had to resist the urge to reach out and stroke your cheek. Your cyan skin looked so smooth and he was willing to bet that it would be warm and silken beneath his fingertips. The little points of your canines peaked out endearingly from behind your upper lip as you grinned and Neteyam’s nose was suddenly perceptive of an alluring scent that he knew was not the sweetbread in his hands.

“I put more dried tumpasuk berries in yours, as well a little extra rock sugar. I know you like yours sweeter.” You murmured quietly to him.

Neteyam returned your smile, silently allowing himself to bask in the feeling of being looked after specially by you. “I do, you’re right. Thanks again.”

“Hey!” Lo’ak’s voice grated from off to the side, “Why does Neteyam always get his own special treat? I thought I was your best friend!”

“You are, which is why it’s you and I that always get up to no good together.” You agreed heartily, “But your poor brother is the one who has to put up with our shit, so I figured we better thank him?”

Neteyam’s heart sank a little. Oh, was that why he always got his own treat? You were just thanking him as Lo’ak’s babysitter big brother. He suddenly felt a lot less special than he did a few moments ago…

*** FLASHBACK END ***

That had been just over a year ago and ever since then, Neteyam had grown more and more critical of your friendship with Lo’ak. Your spirited friendship with his brother seemed more at odds now to him than it ever had before. You had matured into a young woman who appeared to have her head screwed on the right way, kind-hearted and generous with good instincts. Yet all of this seemed to vaporise into thin air the moment you were around Lo’ak.

Neteyam did not understand why you persisted on accompanying his brother on his silly little escapades, playing stupid games like seeing who could pinch and punch the other the hardest. By Eywa, Neteyam had wanted to punch Lo’ak the day he had seen the bruises and marks he had left on your shoulders and arms. The thought of someone intentionally causing you pain and marring your beautiful skin made his blood boil, even though he knew that you had willingly participated in the ridiculous exercise.

But most of all, Neteyam hated the way Lo’ak’s recklessness endangered you.

Not that this meant he cared any less for Lo’ak’s safety than yours. He loved his brother and all his other siblings immensely and there was a natural desire on his part to keep them all safe. However, his impulse to protect you felt different. It was not rooted in the same place of familial love and affection he felt for his siblings. Instead, the strong urge he felt to protect you rather stemmed from his attraction to you as a male was to a female he was interested in.

If Neteyam had his way, you would never go on another irresponsible adventure with Lo’ak ever again. And this put him at odds with his brother. However, he acknowledged that getting in the way of your friendship would be wrong and he knew it would sour things overall for all three of you.

Neteyam had to find a way to curb this newfound possessiveness that he felt for you. You were not his and he was nothing more to you than your best friend’s older brother. His role was to keep an eye on Lo’ak; keep Lo’ak out of trouble and he would keep you out of trouble by default. Simple as that. Nothing more.

Your squeals and peals of laughter became clearer as Neteyam rounded the corner of a lush coppice into a glade of fyìpmaut (squid fruit) trees. Sure enough, as expected, there were you and Lo’ak, chasing each other round the glade with bits of squashed fruit in your fists, stained almost from head to toe in bright pink squid fruit residue.

Perhaps this was a good time to tell you both that fyìpmaut fruit juice stained almost permanently on whatever it came into contact with…

~~ Your POV ~~

“Lo’ak, you sucker!” You yelled out, darting out of the way as Lo’ak attempted to grab hold of you to smear you further with squid fruit, “I’ve got way more fruit on you than you have on me!”

“Yeah? Well I beat you earlier at seed-spitting, so we’re even.”

The glade of squid fruit trees were in high season currently, the trees around you bursting with bright purple fruit. The fruit hung in bunches, much like utumauti (banana fruit). Each piece of fruit was like a long, squidgy antenna, full of magenta coloured flesh that had five or six stony seeds in them.

Fresh from your run through the woodlands earlier with rumbling stomachs, it had been Lo’ak’s idea to stop and feast on your find. What had begun as a sweet and innocent snack-stop had soon turned playful when Lo’ak had challenged you to see who could spit the seeds the furthest. Seeds were spat, a winner was crowned and then you, against your better judgement, had decided to hurl a handful of pulverised fruit at him. War then ensued, which led you both to the present moment, sticky, breathless and dyed bright pink.

Lo’ak flung another piece of squashed fruit at you, which you only just managed to duck out of the way of, laughing, “Ok, alright! Truce?”

Your best friend snorted at the sight of you, “You’ve got it all up in your hair. You’re going to have to scrub your braids out and re-do them all!”

You launched yourself at Lo’ak, tackling him to the ground in a jumble of mock hisses and snarls, before a familiar voice plucked you both out of your tussle.

“Mum is going to twist your ears so hard they’ll fall off, Lo’ak.”

Startled, you shot to your feet at Neteyam’s voice. Self-consciousness overwhelmed you and you avoided meeting his gaze. Great Mother, you must look a mess… Did Lo’ak just say you had fruit in your hair?... You began a futile attempt to clean up by swiping at the bits of fruit on your arms and legs, trying to flick and rub the tacky mess from your skin and clothing.

“Ah, here comes the killjoy. Why is Mum going to twist my ears, bro?” Lo’ak queried, joining you at your side, following your lead and partaking in a fruitless attempt to clean up.

Neteyam’s toned legs came into your downcast view as he stepped up to the pair of you, and you instinctively looked up to acknowledge him. Your saliva dried up in your mouth as it always did when you laid eyes on him. Your quiet crush on him was getting rather out of hand in the confines of your own consciousness. You would never admit to all the times you had daydreamed girlishly of Neteyam, of all the things a girl wanted a boy she liked to do to her; holding his hand; a slow dance in the fading light of a dying bonfire; a kiss…

You had never admitted your feelings to anyone and especially not to Lo’ak. He would never let you live it down, crushing on his older brother. Though you knew Lo’ak had his suspicions about the way you felt.

Lo’ak thought his older brother was a dull and uninspiring killjoy, but if you were honest, you found that Neteyam’s maturity only added to the already large number of reasons you found him attractive. He was gentle, thoughtful, extremely loyal to those he cared about and one of the most skilled warriors the Omatikaya had ever seen. And he was very handsome… compassionate, intellectual, with a lovely deep voice… Your list went on.

“Squid fruit juice stains.” Neteyam stated matter-of-factly, “It’s going to take a lot of scrubbing to get it off your skin. As for your clothing, the stains will never wash out of cloth. These clothes you’re wearing are ruined, both of you.”

You heard Lo’ak bite back a curse as he fiddled with the fabric of his loincloth. It had been a lovely moss green before, but thanks to the addition of the squid fruit juice, it was now a rather unappealing shade of splotchy browns. You sighed, looking at your own ruined chest covering and loincloth. Your clothing had been a shade of lilac and while the magenta-coloured fruit juice did not contrast quite as jarringly against the fabric of your clothing as it did on Lo’ak’s, the stains were still clearly stains. There was no way the splodges would ever pass for artistic embellishment.

“At least, we didn’t get up to any dangerous shit today.” Lo’ak mused, elbowing Neteyam who sprang away lightly from his juice-covered brother with a chuckle.

“Good. We don’t need a repeat of the rock slide incident from the other week.” Neteyam cautioned, pursing his lips, “You could have both gotten really hurt from that.”

“Eh, it was fine. Kalia rolled out of the way in the end, didn’t you?” Lo’ak slapped you heavy-handedly on the back and you winced slightly in pain.

“It was a very close shave. And watch your strength, bro. Don’t be so rough with her.” The rebuke from Neteyam was delivered in an even tone, but there was an authority behind it that made Lo’ak roll his eyes.

“We should probably go and wash as best as we can before heading home.” You exhaled, feeling the stick of the fruit juice between your fingers, “The juice is starting to dry and it’s getting itchy.”

Neteyam was eyeing you up and down with an insouciant expression that betrayed very little of what he might be thinking and feeling in that moment. You were used to this. Neteyam very rarely displayed strong emotion or had dramatic reactions. He was always calm and collected. If Lo’ak was a jaunty and splashing stream, Neteyam was a deep and tranquil lake.

However, his intent gaze only fired the coals of your self-consciousness and you began to pick worriedly through the soiled braids of your hair. You realised then that there were small, drying bits of fruit still clinging to the backs of your fingers, and you stuck your fingers into your mouth one by one, trying to the best of your efforts to suck them clean.

You heard Neteyam suck in a deep breath through his nose and he spun away from you, beginning to amble back the way he came, “There’s a split in the stream farther back where you can both wash. Come on, we want to get back before eclipse.”

Heat flushed your face and ears and you swallowed the lump of shame in your throat. You probably looked absolutely feral, covered in gummy fruit bits and your hair all dishevelled. What girl ever wanted the boy she had a crush on to see her like this? You cursed your short-sightedness. You had known today was Neteyam’s day off and that you would likely see him.

You took a lot of pride in your appearance usually. Your mother always ensured your braids were impeccably done and you had an array of jewellery and clothing that you enjoyed picking through, deciding what you wanted to wear from day to day. Part of the reason was because you enjoyed being well put together, and the other reason was that you wanted to look good for your best friend’s older brother.

Following Lo’ak and Neteyam as they began their walk back to the stream, you mentally chastised yourself. Neteyam probably thought of you as a second nuisance. He already had Lo’ak to contend with from day to day and there you always were, getting into messy situations right along with him. You knew it did not make you look good, but you loved hanging out with Lo’ak. He was your dearest friend and he made you laugh with all his folly.

Reaching the split in the stream, Neteyam nodded towards one side, “Lo’ak and I will take this side. You can wash on the other. We’ll all meet back here when we’re done.”

“OK, got it.” You nodded in understanding.

“Kalia?”

You turned to face Neteyam at the sound of your name, your ears twitching curiously as you wondered why he had called out again.

Neteyam shot you a toothy grin and he chuckled, clearly tickled by something, “Make sure you wash your face really well. You’ve still got squid fruit pieces on your nose and forehead.”

Mortified, your hands flew to your face and sure enough, your fingers met something stodgy in the centre of your forehead. Cursing under your breath you turned on heel and strode for the stream on your side, secretly enjoying the sound of Neteyam’s husky laughter even though it made your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Wading into the stream, you stopped once the cool water pooled around your hips, not wanting to go any deeper. You had never been comfortable in deep or rushing water. From childhood, you had always had an irrational fear of water. All attempts to teach you to swim had failed, as a result. You could tread water at best, but that could not be considered proper swimming. No matter, you had never held any desire to join the fisherfolk in their work hunting fish and gathering other river prey anyway.

Reaching to draw a cupful of water in your hands, you splashed yourself all over to moisten your skin. You began your arduous process of intently cleaning the fruit stains from your skin, knowing that this was the easy part. Washing your hair would be an even bigger task. You cleaned gently around a bad scrape on your left elbow, careful not to dislodge the healing scab that had formed there.

In the repetitive monotony of splashing, scrubbing and dunking, it was easy for your thoughts to drift back to that fateful day a few weeks ago when you earned that scrape. You had acquired several other grazes and cuts on your thighs and knees that same day too. It was also one of the few days you had ever seen Neteyam abandon his usually measured and composed demeanour in a rare display of emotion…

*** FLASHBACK ***

“I’ve got more rocks than you do.” You teased in a sing-song voice as you watched Lo’ak eye the broken cliff face before you, trying to decide which piece of rock he wanted to dislodge next.

“Yeah, but the rocks in my pile are bigger.” Lo’ak countered, “They’re riskier moves than the tiny little pebbles you’ve picked off.”

It was a dicey game you were playing, and once again it was all Lo’ak’s idea. There was an overhanging arch on the damaged cliff face that stood before you and the aim was to take turns dislodging as many rocks as possible before the overhang crumbled down.

“I thought that the person with the most rocks when the overhang crumbles, wins? Not the person with the biggest rocks.”

Sticking his tongue out at you, Lo’ak picked another hefty looking stone and set his foot on it, attempting to dislodge it with his body’s weight, “Nah, I’ve changed the rules. Person with the most amount of big rocks wins.”

Several smaller stones crumbled from the overhang, smacking and rolling loudly onto the ground in a precarious song of warning at the danger they were trifling with.

“That’s so unfair, you skxawng!” You whined peevishly, “You can’t change the rules partway through the game! Stop being a dick.”

“How about the both of you just stop entirely?” Neteyam’s voice called out as he appeared at the treeline. He had left the two of you for a bit to go down to the river to refill all your waterskins, and look what mischief you had both managed to get up to in that short span of time.

Lo’ak threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, “Nah, don’t ruin the fun, Neteyam. I’ve almost won anyway!”

“Are you kidding me, bro?” Neteyam exclaimed, aghast as he looked from his brother to you and then to your respective piles of rock, “Stop right now. That overhang is going to fall at any moment and it’s dangerous. Get away from there.”

“That’s the whole point, bro! We’re trying to see who can dislodge the most rocks before it crumbles.”

“Is it the most rocks or the biggest rocks?! You keep changing it!” You squealed in frustration. Both you and Lo’ak had strong competitive streaks, and neither of you liked losing.

Sensing your genuine upset, Lo’ak acquiesced and proposed a final tie-break challenge, “Alright, alright! How about this? You see that big rock over by you and this big one here by me? Whoever dislodges it first wins the whole game, once and for all. Never mind our piles.”

“No, no way. Stop it, both of you. We’re leaving now!” Neteyam hissed gravely.

However, neither you nor Lo’ak were paying him any attention. Narrowing your eyes at your best friend, you considered his proposal. You looked at the size of the rock Lo’ak had picked out for you, noted its position and then looked over at the rock he had assigned himself. Yours appeared to be in a better position. It was not wedged in as tightly to the cliff face as his was. You reckoned you could do it.

“Deal.” You called out to Lo’ak, who hooted in triumph despite Neteyam’s snarl of vexation at his side.

Both of you got stuck in immediately, feet and hands all intent on dislodging your respective rocks. Yours wobbled in its spot and you barked out a laugh of impending victory.

Several small rocks fell from overhead then and a thunderous crash echoed from above. What happened next happened so quickly that you were unsure if it had been your rock or Lo’ak’s that had caused the aftermath. The overhang disintegrated in a flash and a slew of mud and jagged rocks came pouring at speed over the edge where the overhang had been.

A cry of surprise left you and you stumbled backwards, tripping and falling painfully onto your side. Instinctively you rolled away from the surge of the rock slide and curled into foetal position, hands and arms over your head with your knees pressed to your chest.

The deafening roar of the rock slide dissipated, leaving a swirling cloud of dust and debris. Its gritty and granular texture stung your nose and you thought you could feel the grainy scratch of the tainted air all the way down your windpipe and into your lungs as you coughed violently.

Slowly uncurling your form, you tested your joints in small movements. You were scratched and scraped, but nothing felt broken or seriously injured. You could faintly make out Lo’ak and Neteyam’s worried voices as they called out to you, and you responded through a tickly throat, “I’m here! I’m OK!”

The rock slide was massive. It had divided you and separated you from the boys where you all stood in a raised wall of rock and mud. Thankfully you were out in the open and so you were not trapped. You just had to climb over the wreckage to get back to the other side.

You saw the rocks at the uppermost part of the wreckage shift and Neteyam’s head poked over the peak, closely followed by Lo’ak who cried, “Oh, shit! Kalia!”

The pair of brothers climbed gingerly over the apex of the wreckage, sliding downward on the slope towards you.

Neteyam reached you first though and you were gradually helped to your feet by his strong and firm hands. His eyes were wide and his breaths rushed from him in harsh pants while he checked you over. He circled you, gently lifting your arms as he went around, looking for any sign of serious injury. He crouched down then to look at the grazes on your legs.

You were a little shaken by the scare of the rock slide, but you were fine and you patted Neteyam’s hands where they clutched at your hips, his eyes focused on a graze along your thigh, “I’m fine, Neteyam. Nothing is broken. They’re only skin wounds.”

His eyes locked with yours for a few moments and they blazed with fury in their golden depths. He rose to his feet and you were prepared for him to berate you, but he swivelled around to Lo’ak instead and unleashed his ire, “You fucking moron! What were you thinking? No, I’ll tell you what, you weren’t thinking! This could have ended so much worse than it has! You should know better than this!”

Lo’ak shrivelled under his brother’s wrath and Neteyam returned his livid eyes to you, “You should know better. Both of you!”

Neteyam was almost vibrating with his rage. His nose was wrinkled and his upper lip was curled back in a snarl. You shrank at the sight, your shame consuming you as his words sunk in. He was right; you and Lo’ak had been extremely reckless.

Frankly, you were lucky to have escaped with your lives.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

That was another thing that you discovered you adored about Neteyam. He forgave easily and he never held a grudge.

You smiled to yourself at the thought. Neteyam had been angry for all of ten minutes at most, before he reverted to his usual caring and concerned self. You appreciated his kindly nature for what it was. Lo’ak, on the other hand, enjoyed pushing people’s buttons and you knew he took his brother’s forgiving nature for granted by always testing his boundaries.

The true blue of your own skin stared back at you as you surveyed your torso and your limbs. Your face felt fresh and your hair, though sopping wet, no longer felt tacky. Satisfied with your scrubbing efforts, you waded back to the mossy bank of the stream where your clothing lay. You had tried to wash those too, but no amount of scouring and wringing had freed the stains from the cloth.

Dressing quickly, you met the boys back at the agreed spot.

Lo’ak’s skin still looked purple in places and his jaw dropped at the squeaky-clean sight of you, “How’d you get all of it off you like that?”

You gloated a little at your job well done and smirked at him, “Good and proper scrubbing. Something you’d know nothing about. If you did, you’d smell better in general too.”

The comment elicited an offended gasp from Lo’ak and a hearty laugh from Neteyam who, despite having not partaken in their juicy fruit war, had also taken the opportunity to bathe.

“I don’t smell bad!” Lo’ak protested, chest puffing with indignance.

You laughed and teased your friend further, “No, you don’t smell bad, but you don’t smell good either.”

Neteyam stepped up to you then and your breath hitched on your next inhale. You hoped he had not noticed. Unlike his brother, Neteyam smelled very good to you. He scent was a clean musk like fresh forest greenery with a tinge of something spicy underneath.

“You did a good job scrubbing, but you missed a spot.” The rich depth of Neteyam’s voice swept over you like a warm caress and you held your breath like you had somehow lost the ability to respire like a normal person. You saw him reach out with a hand and then his thumb swiped slowly and deliberately at something high on your forehead near your hairline.

His hand pulled away and you registered a small pink glob of squid fruit on his thumb just as said thumb disappeared into his mouth to suck the digit clean. Neteyam’s intense gaze never left yours as he pulled his thumb unhurriedly from between his lips. A delightful shiver raced down your spine, and your girlish daydreams churned their way to the forefront of your mind when you saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips one last time.

Neteyam turned then to lead the trio of you away back towards home and you vaguely registered your numb and tingling legs following suit alongside Lo’ak.

A revolted groan sounded from Lo’ak and it pulled you back to reality from the daydream you had been immersed in. Your head pivoted to meet his face, which was contorted into a disgusted moue, “What is it, Lo’ak?”

“Stop eyeing up my brother’s ass.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Truthfully, you had been admiring Neteyam’s rear, but you were not about to admit that. Scrambling for cover and trying to worm your way out of the hole you had found yourself in, you stuttered, “I wasn’t! I was looking at his- umm, at his-”

“Ass.” Lo’ak supplied again, deadpan.

“No!” You hissed under your breath. Neteyam was walking a little way ahead of the both of you, but you were careful to keep your volume down. “I was looking at his tail!”

A sarcastic scoff was your best friend’s response and he eyed you calculatingly, his expression dripping with his disbelief, “Because tails are so interesting. Come on, Kalia, don’t lie to me. I know you find my brother attractive. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Stubborn and resolute in your plan not to admit the truth, you shook your head, “Nope.”

Lo’ak laughed, the stray beaded braid that wasn’t tucked behind his ear swinging charmingly with the movements of his head, “Oh, so I suppose you just look at everyone like that? All moony-eyed? Hell, do you look at my ass like that when I’m not looking?”

“Eww! No! Gross!”

What ensued was a series of pinches, slaps and squeals as you squabbled. Neteyam halted in his tracks and he turned to see what all the commotion was about with a questioning look on his face.

Unable to resist the opportunity for another jibe at you, Lo’ak called out to him, “Oi, turn back around bro. You’re ruining the view.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and ears and you knew instantly that you were flushing a deep shade of violet. You slapped the back of Lo’ak’s thigh hard and satisfaction bloomed within you when he gave a pained yowl in reaction to it.

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

Seeing that you were both just bickering again as you often were, Neteyam gave a weary shake of his head and resumed walking. He had missed the meaning of Lo’ak’s cryptic comment, but he had not missed the deep blush staining its way across your smooth cheeks. He smiled to himself. You looked so beautiful when you blushed.

The bright pink of the squid fruit juice against your blue skin earlier had also coloured your complexion a lovely purple hue and it had reminded him very much of your blushing skin. The fruit juice had been smeared all over you; in your hair, on your face, your neck, your chest… And you had looked like a mouth-watering mess to him.

Neteyam felt saliva pool in his cheeks at the memory. By Eywa, he had wanted to clean your skin off himself with his own mouth and tongue. He had wanted to kiss you and taste the sweetness of the squid fruit on your plump lips. He had wanted to lick the gummy bits of fruit from your slender fingers and trail his tongue over every stained part of you until you were clean.

When you had sucked your own fingers into your mouth in the next moment, his thoughts had darkened even further. The sight of your succulent lips wrapped around your fingertips had been incredibly arousing, and he had forced himself to turn away when the next image his very male brain had supplied was of your sweet lips wrapped around something else of his.

He halted his thoughts immediately at the recollection. This had to stop. He had to find a way to distract himself from hankering after you. You were his baby brother’s best friend, for goodness sake.

A feeling of futility swamped Neteyam when the next remark his brain supplied in response to his previous statement was ‘so what?’

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

A few months later

Neteyam sat leaning against the softer, peeling bark of kelutral (Hometree) on one of the upper boughs. He had returned from the day’s patrol not long ago and the soft light of partial eclipse streamed in dappled rays from the leafy canopy above.

Polishing the wood of his bow was one of the few things he found therapeutic in life. It was a mundane task and repetitive in nature, but it relaxed him and gave him time to just think and be. The slightly, nutty scent of the bow oil he was using was also a comforting smell that reminded him of who he was (a mighty warrior, firstborn son of the olo’eyktan) and it grounded him in those facts.

A much more saccharine scent tinged the air around him then and Neteyam’s ears twitched, alerted to the approach of someone from the branches below him. A loaf-shaped parcel, smelling absolutely delicious and wrapped in cooking cloth was carefully placed next to his thigh and he smiled, “Hey Kalia.”

Shifting to peer downward over the edge of his seat, Neteyam met your lovely green eyes which glimmered currently with something he could not decipher in their depths.

You grinned toothily at him and your tone was earnest, “Are you busy? I don’t want to impose.”

“Nah, I’m just chilling.” Neteyam replied, patting the space next to him and watching with a genial smile as you eagerly hopped up to join him at his invitation. He picked the loaf-shaped gift up and cocked his head at you, “What’s this for? It’s your birthday tomorrow, not mine. Why are you giving me a treat?”

Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip and you turned beseeching eyes at him, “I know you like utumauti cake so I set some aside for you from the batch I made this morning. I need your help.”

“Ahh, so this is bribery, is it?” Neteyam taunted mildly, regarding you through narrowed eyes.

“Well, kind of, but not really. I would have saved you some cake anyway even if I didn’t have a favour to ask.”

“I’m just teasing you.” Neteyam’s chuckle was warm, “You know you don’t have to bribe me to help you out. What do you need?”

Tender affection swelled in his chest as he watched you beam at him in excitement at what you were about to ask. Neteyam realised in that moment that he would do just about anything to see you smile, to make you happy. He enjoyed your cooking and the little treats you left him, but they were unnecessary. You had an unlimited supply of favours from him, as far as he was concerned.

You were almost bouncing next to him with your delight as you spoke, “The river trout are migrating currently and I want to see them tonight down at fkewkxor (mighty waterfall). My parents said I could go, but only if you came with me.”

The annual river trout migration passed through Omatikaya territory each year as they swam downstream through the nearby river. The migration was a stunning vision after eclipse at the falls, the bioluminescence of the masses of trout rippling in a multihued display as they made their journey down towards and over the falls before carrying on their way.

Neteyam’s agreement fell easily from his lips. He was more than happy to accompany you tonight, “Sure. Of course I’ll come with you.” However, before his imagination could begin to conjure up delightful little fantasies of how he would spend his time alone with you this evening, a maddeningly familiar voice called from below.

“Did he say yes? Can we go tonight?” Lo’ak.

Irritation flared through him and Neteyam almost sagged in disappointment. He was conscious of keeping his expression cool though. Of course Lo’ak would be coming. He was your best friend. But you both needed a chaperone to go out after eclipse and that was where he fit into the picture. It seemed you had picked up on his annoyance anyway and you wrinkled your nose sheepishly at him, eyes beseeching.

With a long-suffering sigh, Neteyam called down to his brother, “Yes, I’ll take you both tonight! I’ll meet you at the ikran rookery after last meal and we’ll go then.”

You let out a gleeful squeal and pumped your fist into the air, and Neteyam could not help the grin that wormed its way across his cheeks at your elation. You were thanking him profusely and were just about to slip off the bough to leave him to his peace, when he took your hand to get your attention. The little gasp of surprise you emitted was endearing.

Neteyam squeezed your hand gently, his thumb rubbing in fond strokes across your knuckles, “Only because it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

He released your hand and you thanked him one more time with an appreciative smile, “Thanks, Neteyam. It means a lot. I hope you like the cake.”

***~~~***

~~ Your POV ~~

The spectacle was breathtaking. The swell of the frothing rapids at the mouth of the waterfall was a foamy contrast against the rippling flashes of bioluminescent colour from the trout beneath the surface. You could not make out the individual fish, but the polychromatic mass of them made it look like the water was alive with colour. The entire waterfall glowed in the darkness of eclipse and you could hardly believe your eyes at what you were seeing.

Neteyam had led the three of you to an enormous tree that grew almost right by the mouth of the waterfall. The tree’s boughs and branches extended and hung out over the waterfall itself, making it a prime viewing spot. Your cheeks hurt at how wide you were smiling and even Neteyam seemed just as enamoured by the vision where he stood next to you.

The trout migration was a beautiful sight, but Neteyam was beautiful too.

Neteyam was entirely focused on the spectacle before him and it gave you a perfect opportunity to stare. You knew staring was rude, but only if you were caught, right?

In the low light of eclipse, his skin almost appeared a richer shade of blue, his darker stripes a complementary cobalt against his cyan skin. The bioluminescent tanhì (freckles) on his face sparkled bright like stars in the night sky like his own unique set of constellations. Your eyes tracked his tanhì on their journey down his striking form; over his shoulder, down his well-muscled chest and abdomen; down to his hip and toned thighs…

“I thought you wanted to come here to watch the trout.”

Your head snapped up to Neteyam’s face and you found him watching you, watching him. Mortification shot through you at being caught, and your brain was blank and useless in that moment, completely unhelpful at finding something to say. You must have looked very much like a trout then with your wide, unblinking eyes, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly…

Neteyam was still watching you intently, but there was a hint of something in his eyes, something you had not seen before; something playful and hot and utterly male. It made your skin prickle with a delicious heat and made flutters burst in your stomach.

You broke the eye contact, embarrassed, and your words finally returned to you again though they were not exactly coherent, “I did! I do- I am- It’s just- Just thank you.”

You chanced a glance at him again and a corner of his lips quirked upward. Neteyam dipped his head downward, his chin lowering, but his eyes never left yours as he watched you. You shivered at the look. He looked like a hunter about to capture his prey…

“Holy shit! You have to come up here. The view is amazing and there are no lower branches in the way of your eyeline.” Lo’ak exclaimed from several branches up, “Come on, guys!”

Excited, you climbed your way up to meet him with Neteyam following close behind.

The branch Lo’ak stood on was a younger branch near the top of the tree’s canopy. It was not as thick and impervious as the older boughs lower down, but it appeared to be holding Lo’ak’s weight just fine. You hopped nimbly up onto it and began gingerly making your way down it towards Lo’ak who had his hand waiting outstretched for you. The branch bowed ever so slightly and it swayed under your feet as it adjusted to your added weight. You halted your steps.

Neteyam’s voice was a low warning from behind you where he remained next to the tree’s trunk, “This branch isn’t going to hold you both. Come back this way Kalia.”

Lo’ak, as usual, held a conflicting opinion, “Aww man, don’t worry bro, yes it will. It’s a little bendy, that’s all.”

You looked between the two brothers who both had one hand stretched out to you now as you stood in the middle. Neteyam was shaking his head in a reiteration of his point, his golden eyes fierce, impelling you to return to safety. Lo’ak’s expression was nonchalant, his eyebrows raised awaiting your approach.

In the end it was Lo’ak’s next words that sealed the deal, “Come on, Kalia, don’t be a wuss.”

You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. You were not a wuss and so you turned towards him and took the several steps required the rest of the way to grasp his hand.

The branch pitched downward with a little wobble under your combined weight, but it held.

A triumphant ululation trilled from Lo’ak and he laughed, “See? I told you it’d be fine.”

You breathed out a quiet ‘wow’ as the new vantage point afforded you a clear and unimpeded view of the entire waterfall in all its phantastic glory, just as Lo’ak had said. However the branch you were on was not wide enough for both of you stand side by side, and it was a little awkward peering from around his shoulder.

Seeing your position, Lo’ak looked up at the branch above him and he grinned at you, “Here, I’ll hop out of the way so you can see better.”

The next few moments passed in a sluggish blur for you, almost as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace. The last thing you heard was Neteyam’s panicked cry of, “Lo’ak, no!”, before Lo’ak sprang upward from in front of you, reaching for the branch above to pull himself up and out of the way.

The sickening crunch of wood splintering followed as the force of Lo’ak’s well-meaning spring shattered the weight limits of the branch beneath you. Abruptly, your feet were no longer grounded as you saw the broken branch fall away. Gravity sank its sharp talons into you and then you were plummeting too towards the majestic but treacherous waters that lay in wait below.

The last thing you felt was your breath tearing from your squeezing lungs and forcing its way up your throat in a choking scream.

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

The piercing sound of your terrified scream echoed through the woods and Neteyam watched, petrified, as your frame was swallowed by the thunderous falls.

“Fuck, KALIA!” Lo’ak’s own screech was hoarse as he pulled himself up all the way onto the branch above. He appeared a hair’s breadth away from diving in after you when Neteyam stopped him.

He was not about to let his brother risk his own life any further, but Neteyam held no such reservations about himself, “No, Lo’ak! Stay here, you skxawng! Call for help if we don’t surface!”

It was a perilous endeavour, but what choice did he have? There was no time to waste thinking. You were down there and he needed to get to you. With his heart galloping in his chest and his heart whispering prayer after prayer to Eywa to keep you alive, Neteyam leapt from the broken stump of a branch and into the raging falls after you.

Tucking his head as his body speared into a downward dive, Neteyam felt the force of thundering water hit him before he was submerged under the surface. All around him were roiling bubbles and scattering trout as they endeavoured to avoid the foreign creature that had just invaded their environment. There was no sense of direction; he had no idea which way was up and which way was down. Neteyam felt trapped in the never-ending churn of the water, but he reached and pulled against the water with his arms and kicked out with his legs nevertheless.

Neteyam’s sole concern was you. Great Mother, he had promised to keep you safe…

You had only been allowed to go out tonight because you were under his watch; you had been entrusted into his care. His thoughts were frantic… Please Eywa, help me… help her! Help me reach her!

Neteyam realised the trout around him were upright and swimming in the same direction, which was a good sign. It meant he was the right way up. Having regained his sense of direction, he doubled down on his focus. He could not see any sign of you beneath the water, though it was difficult looking through shoals of trout. Reaching the river’s bottom, Neteyam kicked off it and propelled himself towards the surface for a breath of air.

Breaching the surface, Neteyam’s head spun around looking for you. Nothing. He dove under again, continuing his search. All he could see was trout and his chest was tight with frustration and desperation. Please, Great Mother, please!

Something small and black drifted past his eyeline in a furry tuft amidst the writhing bodies of trout... Your tail! It was the tuft of your tail! With renewed vigour, Neteyam swam towards it with all his might, his hands reaching out until he could grasp it. The trout parted as he pulled your unmoving form towards him. His emotions were a contradiction in that moment. He was relieved that he had found you, but alarmed to see that you were unconscious.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Neteyam kicked his legs, hauling you up to the surface.

Neteyam jostled your body roughly in an attempt to wake you when your face broke the waterline. He coughed, his frenetic words leaving him in wet gurgles as he cried out, “Kalia, wake up! Can you hear me? Breathe! Kalia!” You remained unresponsive; your chest unmoving as you drew no breaths.

The water was calmer here now as he floated downstream with you. Turning onto his back to keep you atop him, he frog-kicked towards the riverbank and thanked Eywa when he could finally touch the riverbed with his feet. Swimming back far enough until it was shallow enough for him to stand, Neteyam righted you in his arms, hooking one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders so he could carry you ashore.

Delicately positioning you on your back on the muddy bank, Neteyam’s fingers flew to the crook of your neck where it met your jaw, probing desperately for a pulse. Nothing. Pure, undiluted panic shot through him. Placing his hands on your chest like he had been taught, he knelt alongside you and started chest compressions.

“Come on, Kalia!” Neteyam urged, “Come back to me, paskalin!”

Thirty compressions later, he pinched your nose, tilted your head back and sealed his mouth over yours. He gave you two breaths, feeling your chest rise slightly with each one. He checked again for a pulse.

Still nothing.

With a wild curse, Neteyam restarted chest compressions. He knew this was your only chance at survival and yet he was so afraid that he would break your sternum with the force of his compressions. Sixteen or seventeen compressions in, your shoulders and chest punched outward and your body gave a violent wretch. River water spewed from your mouth and you took a ragged but blessed breath in. A fit of wet coughs wracked you as your body ejected some more of the water from your saturated lungs.

A startled cry of relief left Neteyam and he propped you upright in his arms, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, “Thank you, Great Mother! Keep breathing, paskalin. That’s it! That’s good.”

He cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze to focus on him. Your eyes were wild with disorientation and fear, and Neteyam clutched you to his chest as you began to cry bitterly. The sound of your crying was heart-wrenching, but it was welcome proof to him that you were alive.

Your drenched body quaked in his arms from the chill of the river water and Neteyam let out several trills and ululations, calling for his ikran. He needed to get you back to his grandmother. Quickly.

***~~~***

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

To say that Neteyam was angry with Lo’ak was a vast understatement. He was absolutely livid with his brother.

He and Lo’ak had fought countless times in their lives. It was the way of things when you grew up as brothers whose personalities were at such odds with each other. Countless disagreements and countless rebukes, but Neteyam had always been eloquent, even in his ire. He had always known how to scold Lo’ak; had always known what words to use to chastise him. But tonight had clearly been one step too far.

Tonight, Neteyam knew he was beyond angry because for the first time in their lives, he had no words. He had been silent ever since he had returned to kelutral with you in his arms several hours ago.

Lo’ak had taken full responsibility and had owned up to his reckless behaviour. Both their own family and yours had been horrified by the events of the evening as he had recounted the truth to them. Lo’ak’s immense contrition had manifested itself all night as repeated apologies to whoever would listen.

His grandmother had thoroughly checked you over when he had arrived home with you. You had sustained several shallow gashes to the skin of your back where you must have hit the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. You had aspirated river water and there would still be excess fluid in your lungs despite you having coughed most of it up. Mo’at had prescribed bedrest and careful monitoring of you for the next several days in hope that you would not develop a lung infection.

It was astonishing how the axis of Neteyam’s entire world had shifted in the space of one evening. He had vowed to himself a few moons ago that he would find a way to stop his growing feelings for you. He had done this partially out of respect for your close friendship with Lo’ak and also because he was convinced you did not see him the same way.

But he had nearly lost you tonight. And there was nothing in life that gave a person quite the same clarity of perspective than the threat of imminent death.

So what, if you were his baby brother’s best friend? Tonight had taught Neteyam that life was too short not to go after what he wanted.

Neteyam kept silent vigil in the healers’ hut where you were now asleep again. He had not left your side so far. Part of him needed to see you, to hear you breathing to assuage the deep-seated apprehension in his soul that you might somehow stop breathing again. And what if no one was there to notice?

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw Lo’ak get up from his spot a little further away to come and sit by him again. Neteyam ground his jaw together so hard that his teeth started to hurt.

“Say something, bro.” Lo’ak pressed softly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake you.

Neteyam’s nostrils flared and he pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes in vexation, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ve said that a billion times already.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Say you forgive me now, please? You were right, OK? That branch didn’t hold.”

Neteyam’s gaze had been alternating only between your prone form and his clasped hands in his lap up until now, but he turned incredulous eyes at his brother then. He gave a quiet scoff of disbelief, “By Eywa, that’s what you’re sorry for? For not listening to me? You think that I want you to apologise to me because you didn’t believe that I was right? Fuck, you don’t get it at all, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak blinked several times and his brows knitted in a confused furrow, “What? I’ve already apologised. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

Neteyam’s nose wrinkled in a silent snarl at his brother, “This is your fault. It’s always your fault because your apologies are never backed up with a change of behaviour.”

“I know, bro. I promise I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“No! That’s not it!” Neteyam’s hiss was quiet but no less vehement, “It’s not about me being right or you not listening to me. It’s about you recognising that you need to think before you rush headlong into your fun and games! I won’t always be there to protect her!”

He saw Lo’ak’s eyes flick to your sleeping form and saw the recognition dawn on his brother’s face. Lo’ak had caught the inflection in his last sentence, “Oh, so this is just about Kalia, is it? You’d be fine if it was me that nearly drowned tonight instead?”

 Neteyam growled a warning, “Don’t be unkind. This is about both of you.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Lo’ak said casually, but Neteyam could sense his brother’s rising temper, could see it in the impatient flick of his tail, “In general, you’re concerned about the both of us, but right now tonight, this anger of yours, it’s all about her.”

“Of course! She died tonight, Lo’ak! She was dead when I pulled her from the river! We’re lucky I managed to resuscitate her!” Neteyam snarled, his ears pinned and his own tail lashing behind him, “You put her in danger. You have done so, so many times with your recklessness! So help me Eywa, if you can’t comprehend in your thick skull that you need to grow up and consider your own safety, then leave Kalia out of it, at least.”

Lo’ak’s lips curled in a derisive snarl of his own, “You can’t have her, bro. I won’t let you.”

Neteyam clenched his jaw. This was not the direction he had wanted this conversation to go in, but at the same time, it was a conversation that had been stewing in the background for moons now. His brother seemed all too eager to jump on this train of thought, full steam ahead.

Lo’ak continued, “She’s my best friend. I see the way you look at her, Neteyam. You want her for yourself.”

Neteyam knew he had to tread carefully here and choose his words wisely. It was both dishonest and futile to deny his attraction to you now, but he did not want it to come at the cost of your friendship with Lo’ak. Swallowing tightly, he began in a measured tone, “I don’t want to take her away from you. I just want her to be safe. I want you to be safe so that she is safe with you. You’re not good for her if you won’t change your behaviour.”

Lo’ak was shaking his head now, his breaths puffing heavily from his nostrils as he got more and more agitated, “How about you stay away from her, bro. She’s my friend.”

“This doesn’t have to be a you or me situation.”  Neteyam reasoned, “My interest in her and your friendship are not mutually exclusive things.”

“No, you can’t have her!” The words were spat from Lo’ak in a vicious growl, louder now than before.

“That isn’t your choice or mine, Lo’ak! It’s hers! But I have every right to express my wish to court her!”

“STAY. AWAY. FROM HER!”

“You don’t have any right to demand that!”

“Stop fighting.” The voice was feminine croak and Neteyam startled, his head spinning back to look at you. His brother’s head had swivelled around just as swiftly and he was sure he heard the vertebrae in Lo’ak’s neck pop.

~~ Your POV ~~

It had been the most impressive quiet argument that you had ever heard, if you were honest. The brothers had done well maintaining a hushed volume up until the last few moments. You figured it was time to intervene since the conversation was getting out of hand and it was also especially imprudent for you to be eavesdropping on a conversation about, well, you.

Your throat felt scratchy and your lungs felt sore, but you were fairly clear-headed otherwise.

“Shit, Kalia, sorry we woke you.” Lo’ak was by your side in a flash and one of his hands curled around yours, “Fuck, I’m so sorry about tonight. I really am.”

His tone was remorseful and you knew he felt awful. Lo’ak was careless but he was not callous by any means. He cared greatly for you despite him unintentionally contradicting that fact at times with his reckless behaviour.

Lo’ak’s eyes appeared a little watery in the flickering firelight of the hut and you reached out to pat his cheek kindly, “Hush, I know. I’m OK now. We live and we learn, yes?” He nodded mutely.

You saw Neteyam’s face swim into view beside Lo’ak’s and your heart gave a squeeze. An assortment of thoughts and emotions eddied around in your mind at the sight of his handsome face; gratitude, affection, remnants of your fright from earlier in the evening, and a kittenish shyness at what you had heard him say just moments ago.

Looking back to Lo’ak, you took the hand that was holding yours and kissed the back of it, “You know you’ll always be my best buddy, right? Nothing will change that. Ever.” You saw the slight pout of Lo’ak’s lips lift in a grin. You needed to speak to Neteyam though, alone, to thank him for rescuing you. Mostly to thank him, but you wanted to address a few other things too…

You cleared the scratch in your throat and shot Lo’ak a reassuring smile, “I’ll catch you in a bit, yeah? Could you give your brother and I some time? I’d like to speak to him.”

You had to fight the urge to giggle because when you saw Lo’ak’s grin pucker into an unimpressed moue. He looked from you to his brother and then back again and drawled sarcastically, “Yeah sure, I see how it is. You’ll be my best friend in the daytimes and then you’ll go and suck face with my brother in the evenings.”

Both you and Neteyam hissed Lo’ak’s name in shocked unison as he got up to give you both some privacy. He called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the draping flaps of the healers’ hut, “Don’t do anything gross in there kids, I’m just outside.”

Neteyam emitted an irritated huff and he rolled his eyes. His cheeks were purpling ever so slightly and you giggled, your own cheeks heating in response. You sat in silence for a few moments, neither of you really knowing what to say or how to begin.

You looked at Neteyam in the lambent glow of the firelight. He was looking intently at his folded hands in his lap and a frown wrinkled his forehead. He looked a little upset and you realised then that while it had been you who had fallen, gotten injured and had to be resuscitated, it was Neteyam who had had to live the waking nightmare of all those moments.

You extended the fingertips of your left hand and you stroked them gently against the back of his clasped hands, “Hey, thanks for saving me. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

“You weren’t here for a little bit.” The words were a broken mumble from Neteyam, who turned one of his palms out to twine his fingers with yours. He looked defeated.

“I’m here now and that’s what matters.”

His fingertips were warm against your cold ones and you instinctively sought out more of his warmth, sliding your palm forward to seat it fully against his. You felt his fingers wrap around your palm in return and the motion sent a thrill through you.

Neteyam took a shaky inhale and his exhale punched out of him in a defeated sigh, he shook his head gravely, “Fuck, Kalia you scared me today. You were gone. I had to fight to bring you back and-” He stopped suddenly and his eyes reluctantly fixed themselves on the dark purple bruising where the top of your chest was peeking out from the woven blanket Mo’at had wrapped around you.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” You supplied, “You did what you had to and I’m so grateful. I was stupid today too. It wasn’t just Lo’ak who didn’t listen. You told me not to go out onto the branch. I’m sorry too. I should’ve known better.”

He pursed his lips at you then, clearly agreeing with your sentiment, “Look, I’m not going to try and stop you and Lo’ak from hanging out, but you both need to be more careful. Think about what you’re doing, assess the situation. I don’t want to have to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation ever again.”

“Not the kind of mouth-to-mouth you’d like to give me?” Perhaps it was the heady mix of tonic that Mo’at had given you as pain-relief. Or maybe it was the fact that you had overheard Neteyam admit to being attracted to you that emboldened you, but the quip was out of mouth before you could stop it.

Neteyam’s mouth popped ajar at your remark and he spluttered, “I-It wasn’t exactly a kiss.”

Your tittered even harder at his reaction and you countered with another quip, “No, I’d like to be alive when that one happens.”

He continued to gawp at you and you nibbled on your bottom lip bashfully. Eywa, you’d been crushing on Neteyam for a couple of years now, and to hear him say that he would like to court you was a girlish dream come true. You squeezed his hand promisingly and he chuckled.

He licked his lips and his eyes fell to his lap again. He shifted his other hand to join your already clasped ones and rested it over yours. Your hand was cradled between both of his now and the blazing heat of skin was electrifying. He lifted his eyes then to meet your gaze and admitted, “I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”

“And I thought you didn’t see me as anything more than your little brother’s annoying friend!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “By Eywa, I’ve been cooking you things and bringing them to you personally for so long now. I was convinced you just thought me a pest.”

Neteyam frowned and cocked his head at you, “I thought those were bribes and ‘thank you’ treats for keeping an eye on you and Lo’ak.”

“Well, they were, but it’s because I didn’t want you to stop coming.”

He smiled at you then, one of his beautiful, bright smiles that made you feel all warm and tingly inside. He brought your knuckles up to his face and pressed a kiss to them, and the soft velvet brush of his lips made your stomach quiver and your toes curl. He murmured, “So you’ll allow me to court you?”

You beamed at him with a nod and you wondered if he could see the happy stars bursting in the depths of your green eyes. A stupid part of you was a little disappointed that the first time his lips had touched yours you had not been conscious. It had not been a kiss, but still.

You wanted a kiss now and you never backed away from an opportunity to get what you wanted, “Kiss me, Neteyam, please?”

A corner of his lips quirked upward and his chin tilted down again, his eyes never leaving yours. You recognised that look. It was the same keen expression he had worn earlier that evening after he had caught you staring at him instead of the trout. Great Mother, that expression sent delightful shivers through you.

You saw him lean down towards you slowly, bracing his weight on his palms on either side of your head, and he smirked, “Lo’ak is going to be so annoyed.”

“Lo’ak knows. He’s known about my feelings for you for a while now. He’s just going to have to share.” You whispered, your heartrate quickening and your breath puffing in smaller pants of anticipation as Neteyam’s face neared yours. A husky chortle rumbled by your ear and you gave a small gasp as his hot breath tickled the side of your face.

Neteyam purred his response, “Well as long as I don’t have to share this-” He pressed a slow kiss to your right cheek, “Or this-” Another unhurried press of his lips to your left cheek, “And especially not this-” His smooth lips enveloped yours in a chaste, but lingering press, “Then I’m fine sharing. Happy birthday, Kalia.”

Bright and unbridled delight rushed through you in a series of flutters and flurries in your chest and in your stomach. You had almost forgotten. The darkest part of eclipse had come and gone. It was your birthday today. Your first kiss with Neteyam was without a doubt, the best birthday present ever. Neteyam was grinning smugly down at you and you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you again for another deliciously plush and moist meld of your lips.

It was a little uncoordinated and a little bit messy as the two of you continued your curious exploration of each other’s mouths. After all, you were both new to each other like this. However, the experience was no less stimulating. You had plenty of time to practise and get better, you mused.

Evidently Lo’ak had chosen the wrong time to peek through the gap in the hut’s entry flaps, and you and Neteyam broke away from each other laughing when his indignant voice sounded from outside.

“Eww, yuck! I SAID NO GROSS STUFF!”

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Author's Note: Ya'll this took on a life of its own, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed this little rollercoaster of drama! I'd love to hear your thoughts & reactions. Reblogs are so very much appreciated. Share this piece if you loved it! 🥰Thanks for reading!

#neteyam #atwow neteyam #avatar movie #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #avatar james cameron #avatar twow #atwow #neteyam x oc #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #neteyam angst #neteyam x y/n #avatar 2 #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar #lo'ak sully #avatar: the way of water #neteyam twow #neteyam fluff #protective neteyam #lo'ak fluff #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #vivid-ink works

[leighsartworks216]

57 perhaps? If inspiration happens to strike. I love a little desperation or uncertainty or pretty much any possible cause of trembling kisses. Can be nsfw or not. Thank you for all that you do, and please feel free to disregard entirely if it’s not your thing!

57 - kisses with trembling lips

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

OH BOY DID THE INSPIRATION STRIKE. IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE. I saw this prompt and my mind immediately went to the most painful idea. I legitimately almost started crying multiple times writing this, as someone who very rarely cries over fics at all. Soooo let that be a solid warning and good luck 👍

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 578

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Kiss Prompts

It felt wrong to see you like this. You were surrounded by flowers from all your friends; Astarion despised the damn things more than ever. The only good thing was their potent fragrances masked the scent of death.

He took a deep breath, biting his cheek to force back his tears. It wasn’t working very well.

He stepped forward, leaning over the sides of the wooden coffin to peer down at your face. You looked peaceful. Much, much too pale, but peaceful. The thought of lowering you into the ground rubbed him the wrong way, but there was some comfort in knowing you would be laid right next to his own grave. When his time comes, however long from now, he’d be by your side once again.

He inhaled shakily. The tears burning his eyes broke free. He didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

His hands shook as he reached in and cupped your cheek. The wrinkles and creases of age still felt exactly as they had a week ago, when you were scolding him for hovering over you. “I’m not helpless yet, Star. I can make it to the couch on my own.”

The thought of that house. Of going back to the emptiness… Gods, what would he do without you?

“Live. Live for me. You have so much life to live, my love. My star.”

He wished you’d open your eyes. Tell him it was all a joke. Come back to him, lay in his arms just one more time.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest was too damn tight, choking on half-contained sobs. The sun would be rising soon. He’d need to leave before then. For you. Gods know he was all too tempted to stay here, holding you one last time as he’s reduced to ash. But your voice rang all too clearly in his mind, as though you were commanding him on a battlefield. Live.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were still alive, merely fast asleep in your armchair by the fire, book slipping from your fingertips. But the smell of death flooded his nose too strongly. It was not the warm scent of the fire, or the soaps and oils he would bathe you with.

His lips trembled against your skin. His chin shook as emotion overwhelmed him. His entire body shuddered with the power of his sobs. His tears hit your skin; a holy aspersion from a lifetime of being loved. He reluctantly pulled away, vision blurred to hell as he delicately brushed them from your brow.

The horizon slowly grew pink and yellow. He had to leave.

His heart ached with the thought, now more than ever. He would never see your face again, not outside of portraits or magic mimicry. And he couldn’t even see worth a damn to be absolutely positive he would never forget it. He forgot his own face so long ago; he wouldn’t forget yours.

He tried to speak, tried to tell you he loved you, to thank you for spending your life with him, for never giving up on him despite it all, for being you. But the words never came. A golden beam creeped over the opposite edge of your coffin. The flowers came alive in the sun. He wished you would, too.

He passed from shadow to shadow back home, sobbing out his grief with every step.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

#request #requested #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #angst

[vyorei]

I found a post about Palestine and olive trees about a week ago, this reminded me of it so I'm gonna post the text below.

This was posted on Facebook by Dima Seelawi on the 29th of October 2018, it just happened to find its way to my newsfeed:

"When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli settlers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that."

And this picture was attached:

Link to the article in the header image:

#free gaza #free palestine #gaza strip #irish solidarity with palestine #palestine #gaza #news on gaza #al jazeera #boycott israel #israel #Olive trees #Olive oil #Olive harvest #Dima Seelawi #Palestinian olive trees #Palestinian olive Groves #Palestinian culture #Samaher Abu Jameh #Abasan al-Kabira #Farming #important #Nablus #West Bank #west bank palestinians

[cryptotheism]

The Mysteriorum libri quinque, or Five Books of Mystery, can be thought of similar to forklift certification. It is a book of blueprints, techniques, tools, and general safety information for communicating with the angels of the lord. It is a graduated system. Angels are spiritually pure creatures, and each new set of tools and techniques requires greater and greater degrees of spiritual purification from the practitioner. These are the tools Dee would need to “read the book of nature.”

The first book contains instructions for the Holy Table of Practice, what could be called a highly advanced ouija board. The instructions for producing one are highly specific, and distinctly expensive, requiring both a two yard square silk carpet, and letters written in “perfect oil” like the type used in church. On a particular day, the archangel Uriel lectures Dee and Kelley on the importance of observing the “Ritual Workplace Safety Protocols,” and makes an ominous warning that the grounds of Mortlake were haunted by a malevolent spirit named Lundrumguffa.

The very next morning, Kelley called Uriel. A being appeared with sparkling eyes, dressed in fantastic robes of purple and gold, a wreath of gold upon his head. When Dee asked if the table had been produced correctly, the being assured him that it was perfect, not a sigil out of place. When Dee asked if the spirit was indeed Uriel, another entity arrived, threw the apparition to the ground, beat him with a whip, and stole his clothes, revealing the entity to be none other than Lundrumguffa. Uriel then continued to beat the spirit, shouting “Lo, thus are the wicked scourged.” He then dragged Lundrumguffa by the legs, threw him into a pit, washed his hands with the sweat off his angelic brow, and appeared to the magicians in full radiance with his co-worker Michael. The angels blessed Dee and Kelley, encouraging them to continue the sessions.

Writing about Dee and Kelley on Patreon today

#Patreon #Occult #Dee #Kelley

[basedandradpilled]

for the anon with heavy periods, here are some changes you can make to manage it

increase your intake of these nutrients:

iron: obviously necessary to replenish blood loss, but if you’re anemic before your period, your flow will be heavier as well. sources: red meats, chicken, oysters, beans, dark leafy greens, tofu, pumpkin seeds, an iron fish.

vitamin C: for absorption of iron and to strengthen capillaries, reducing bleeding. sources: rosehips (you can buy a bag of organic dried rosehips to put in tea, it’s florally and kinda fruity,) yellow bell peppers, cantaloupe, citrus, strawberries, and dark leafy greens

vitamin K: when it comes to blood clotting, vitamin k is essential. supplementing it has been shown to reduce heavy menstrual bleeding in women who otherwise have no known blood clotting disorders sources: spinach, kale, collard/mustard greens, broccoli

omega 3s: anti-inflammatory and helps produce prostaglandins that regulate the menstrual cycle and flow. sources: mackerel, salmon, sardines, oysters, brussel sprouts, tofu, navy beans, and fish oil supplements

vitamin B6: b6 helps regulate production of serotonin and dopamine and regulates production of PgE1, a prostaglandin that’s been proven to affect menstrual cycle regularity and flow. sources: avocado, spinach, banana, sunflower seeds. this is one i recommend supplementing (along with b12) if your general health is poor.

other stuff:

blood clotting medications: tranexamic acid is the most common one, also called Lysteda, and it isn’t as scary as it sounds. it’s a blood clotting medication for adults only, used after childbirth frequently, and they even give it to people with chronic nosebleeds. there’s also Desmopressin nasal spray which has a different mechanism but the same effect. talk with your dr about side effects, but please do your own research! physicians unfortunately rarely have our best interest at heart and will often fail to inform you of side effects or drug interactions.

ginger: an anti-inflammatory, can ease pain. inhibits the enzymes prostaglandin synthetase and cyclooxygenase, both of which can create a prostaglandin imbalance that causes heavy menstrual bleeding and irregularity

raspberry leaf tea: contains fragarine, an alkaloid thought to help pelvic floor muscle cramps, reduce pain, and shorten period length. don’t drink more than 2 servings if you’re extremely sensitive to estrogen. some women swear this is their holy grail for PMS

cruciferous veggies like broccoli and brussel sprouts help your body eliminate extra estrogen which can reduce bleeding and shorten period length.

i’ll include more about all of the above stuff and other helpful nutrients for PMS like potassium, magnesium, etc in my next post about diet based on your cycle, this was just a quick post for supplements specifically to reduce a heavy flow.

lastly, stay hydrated and rest as much as possible during your period, easier said than done

menorrhagia is defined as abnormal blood loss during menstruation. this means heavy flow lasting for over a week and/or totaling greater than 80 ml (~1/4 cup) per month. if your symptoms are having an impact on your quality of life, consider seeing your gyno to find an underlying cause.

(disclaimer: i’m a dropout whose only medical training is as a lab tech and phlebotomist. i am in no way a health professional. none of this should be taken as expert medical advice)

#women's health #i'll update this i'm sure i missed stuff i didn't take my stimulants today #period health #radical feminism #radblr #my post #radfems do touch #affect or effect #radfem safe

[seat-safety-switch]

It’s easy to do a bad engine swap. Tales abound of folks who show up with a sawzall and booger-weld their way to an undriveable car that does, indeed, technically contain a high-mileage base-model V8. Taking that new engine and integrating it so smoothly into the chassis that it is of the same quality as the vehicle’s original manufacture, with everything still working, is a holy grail. And I’m too lazy to do it.

Let me walk you through my engine-swap technique. First, I obtain a car with a broken engine. For the sake of argument, let’s say it’s a 1981 Pontiac Trans Am. Now, the original Pontiac engines for these are hard to come by these days, snapped up by collectors. They’ve got lots of unique parts and an unfortunate tendency to turn into clouds of loosely-affiliated exotic metals when they run out of oil.

So a lot of folks – and I should pause to mention that the Trans Am collector community dislikes this very much – will swap in a standard Chevy small-block and do some bodge work to mate it all up. You still have a working car, with lots of V8 grunt, and it’s kinda-sorta all from the same company. Of course, the car is no longer original, and between you and me? A little boring. Personally, I don’t have time in my busy schedule to be going to the junkyard in order to pull Chevy small blocks. No, I have a decent copse of engines right in my backyard.

I figure, if I’m going to be bodging something into the car and pissing off all of the purists anyway, why not at least make it easy for myself? I choose a Kubota turbodiesel lawn tractor engine, which is lying on the racking out back. The resemblance of my racking to the stuff that went missing from the Home Depot down the street during last week’s midnight ram-raid is purely coincidental. As you can see, this racking is not orange, but instead orange with some quickly-applied black spraypaint over top of it. Never mind, here’s the engine.

And now, after several hours consisting of supreme works of bodgery, including a bellhousing adapter made out of plywood and a starter motor somehow hanging off the front bumper, we once again have ourselves a running Trans Am. You can definitely do a Smokey and the Bandit cosplay with this, although I would recommend not going on long-distance runs against the 5-0. Mostly because I didn’t want to drain the original gas tank, so the engine is drinking diesel out of a two-litre pop bottle zip-tied to the A-pillar. PET plastic is fuel-safe, right?

[captainjacklyn]

first year gang with a gen z reader please

<3

Oh la la la ! This idea will surely be fun. Especially with the fact that my previous post had went completely overboard with crack.

Warning(s) : this fic contains cursing and a lot of it, please beware and read at your own risk.

Thank you for requesting anon !

First year gang with a Chaotic Gen Z reader

Holy shit-

reader just broke all the rules of heartslabyul.

in. front. of. riddle's. face..

Not gonna lie there, reader you're fucked up.

My boy was stupid enough but you just had to come here to absolutely destroy what was called 'peace'.

And turned this school INTO A FUCKING BLIZZERY

Every time you do dumb shit, his face is the definition of

"mom pick me up, I'm scared"

Please try not to tell riddle a your mom joke or this is going to be problematic- Aaaaannnnd you just did.

Why ?

Now he's hiding with you in a closet like in horror movies as riddle stomps around menacingly calling out for you like this :

Oh reader~ where are you ?

Well if you wished to die, today is the day my friend. And to be quite frank with you, getting murdered by riddle is the exact opposite of "He died peacefully in his sleep".

READER NO-

"HEY RIDDLE !! GUESS WHO I'M DOING TONIGHT ?!"

"YO MOMA-"

I pity riddle at this point.

You two are the partners in crime of night raven college.

Dear god, the worst thing you've done by now is smash through the windows of NRC will holding grim like a fucking flamethrower and ace just throwing oil everywhere to send the school into an inferno of madness and chaos.

To make matters worse, Crowley had to rebuild the school 37 times. And none of y' all got expelled because being malleus's closest friend has advantages.

You know what I'm saying ?

DEEZ NUTS-

ha ha...yeaaah

Well if you wished to leave something for NRC once you go back to your world, I'm sure that the one thing your leaving them is fucking trauma and piles of taxes from each and every student.

You too are basically the Elmo meme. Just standing in front of a raging fire as you summon Satan from hell.

I may be exaggerating to destruction side of ace but that's just how it's gonna be...

And you're gonna deal with it.

"how many times did Vil scold you ?"

Enough for him to receive a pimple the next morning.

You both will be the absolute death of the famous young actor Vil Schoenheit. (for those who have no idea whatsoever about the complicity of writing down that wretched last name you got another thing coming because I HAVE TO SEARCH IT UP ON GOOGLE AND COPY PASTE IT EVERY TIME HIS NAME NEEDS TO BE MENTIONED)

Moving on you are the perfect opportunity for epel to be himself and cause chaos amongst all dorms.

I'm hesitating on yes or not praying for your safety because at this point it will cause my death.

Stop slamming into people thinking it's funny, you are causing huge hospital bills for everyone and again with the jokes-

"YOUR MOM !"

YOUR DAD !"

"YOUR COUSIN !"

"YOUR SIBLING !"

You are literally having a battle while screaming random family members into each others face just to talk back and find a comeback. The room gets really silent once one of them says their grandpa is dead.

I'm sorry I couldn't fit it all into one headcanon, there will be a second part so that jack and sebek are included.

I hope you enjoyed reading this !

#twisted wonderland spoilers #obey me #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #writer #twistedwonderland #twst #twst ace #twst grim #twst fanfic #twst riddle #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst meme #twst yuu #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #platonic #deuce spade #twisted wonderland incorrect quotes #twisted oc #twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland lilia #twisted wonderland original character #twisted wonderland yuu #twst fanart #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland diasomnia #twst mc

[conjuremanj]

Cologne And Perfumes In Your Practice.

Now in my previous post I spoke on spiritual colones, waters like Florida Water and their uses and while this is one way to use it, there are other ways to tap into the power of these products. When looking at colognes and perfumes, try not to see them as just fragrances. They were made from herbs, resins, and oils in an alcohol base.

Beside Florida Water, Rose Water Cologne or Kananga Water there are other colognes and perfumes that are made to be used for spirits deities and workings. It's not enough to buy a spiritual perfume and begin using it.

To get the most out of them, they need to be consecrated. This means that you need to declare what the purpose of the perfume is and going to be used for. This can be something like, "I dedicate this perfume to drawing prosperity into my life." You also need to meditate & pray over it, giving it the power to do what it's is intended for.

If you choose, you can ask your guides, angels, saints, or deities for help to make it more effective at whatever you want it to do for you. Basically you're making an holy item or spiritual item.

Colognes Perfumes As Offerings: while many deities have their own type of offering that is giving to them, these colognes could be good to be used as a wash to honor your deity or spirit. Other deities like receiving perfumes that contain their favorite ingredients like Ezurli or any love deity, that created specifically for them.

Scents Used In Your Space: Perfumes and colognes are placed on the body to give their properties to the wearer, they can be added to washes or sprinkled around the boundary of a place. Like Saint Michael.

Saint Michael for instance a perfume dedicated to him can be used to help fortify your home and protect those within it and also be used as a offering to him on his fest day. Use it as a floor wash, or sprinkling around the perimeter.

Using It In A Ritual Bath: Sometimes, adding perfume to rituals might be a good idea. If you perform a healing ritual that involves drawing a bath, for example, you may choose to add Saint Lazarus perfume to the water while praying for healing.

Working Bath For St Lazarus: Useing natural water not faucet water, you don't really know what's in it. ( Rain Water is good). Add a little St Lazarus cologne or use a St Lazarus wash or both is fine too. You can add his oil if you choose. Add that to the bowl of water, place his colored candle in the middle of the bowl and light it. This we'll get St. Lazarus attention, then pray his prayer and tell him what you need. Let it burn. After use that water as a wash by pouring it starting from the top of your head on down.

Perfumes as Spiritual Food Just as perfumes can be given as offerings to spirits, they can also be offered to mojo's, washes, dolls, crystal etc. If a liquid is called for in a ritual, often a cologne or perfume can be used or added to it to power the liquid with its properties.

List Of Some Of These Perfume/Cologne.

#Spiritual perfumes and colognes #like and/or reblog! #spiritual #google search #rootwork #conjuring #southern hoodoo #traditional hoodoo #follow my blog #Hoodoo colognes #Spiritual perfumes. #Spiritual offerings #rootwork questions #southern spirits #southern root work

[fairy-writes]

Vampire!Viktor x Female!Reader 05

i decided not to link the past parts of this series. i don’t want like a million links on my post.

so!

all parts of this series are tagged under cryptid!viktor

cryptid!viktor also includes my pieces with merman!viktor

MORE DOCTOR WHO QUOTES

TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of suicide. 

“how old are you?” you ask one day as you watch viktor tinker. you lay on your stomach on his bed, head resting on your folded arms as you watch the vampire work. your skirts are splayed out behind you, and you had kicked your shoes off before climbing onto the furniture. you had been correct. it was the most comfortable bed you had ever laid on.

you didn’t ask him what he was working on; you discovered that he wasn’t one to talk about what his inventions did. only what gears and objects they contained. 

viktor pauses in his work, not raising his eyes from his current invention. it’s a mess of gears and wires, and his long, slender fingers are stained with grease and oil.

“i’m old enough to know a longer life isn’t always a better one.” is all he says before getting back to work. 

he doesn’t say much else after that. 

“are you immortal?” you ask, and he sighs, setting down his tools and turning to face you, his chair squeaking as he spins. 

“must you ask all these personal questions?” he says, almost incredulous, but his tone isn’t cold. he doesn’t shut you out like he usually would.

instead… 

“i’m not immortal,” he says, finally, and you perk up. he was going to answer your questions? “not really, at least.” he finishes, and now you frown,

“what do you mean?” you inquire, and he shrugs, leaning his elbows on his knees. 

“i can die. there are things that can kill me. sunlight, for one. i’ll burn up to ash. a stake through the heart for another. and—” 

“wouldn’t a stake to the heart kill anyone?” you interrupt, and he shoots you a sharp look. you hold up your hands defensively with a quiet “sorry.” he continues talking.

“silver will harm me. as will holy water. either of those in large amounts will kill me eventually.” he finishes, and you nod. you knew this already. 

stories told to you as a child gave you the most rudimentary knowledge of vampires, and now you were learning more and more thanks to viktor. 

“so you aren’t immortal in the sense that you live forever?” you ask, and he laughs darkly, shaking his head.

“immortality isn't living forever. that's not what it feels like. immortality is everybody else dying.” he says and abruptly spins in his chair back to his desk. 

you don’t ask any questions after that, and viktor doesn’t speak.

until… 

“do you want to know why i’m always working?” he says suddenly, and you blink, surprised he’s even talking after your previous exchange. 

“why is that?” you ask, and he looks at you out of the corner of his eye. he turns a gear with a tool and tightens it until he’s satisfied. 

“i’m looking for a way to turn mortal again,” he says softly, and your brain stalls. 

turn mortal?

but… 

“wouldn’t that kill you?” you whisper, almost dreading the answer. that dread intensifies as viktor nods. 

“it would.” you bolt upright to a sitting position, panic shooting through you. 

you didn’t want him to die. 

“that’s suicide!” now he turns to look at you, a dark look in his eyes that scares you, making you shiver. he sighs and turns back to his work. 

“i’m well aware of that,” he says, an emotion thick in his voice that you can’t quite identify. but that doesn’t change the fact that he wants to die. 

“but why?!” you ask, and he stops tinkering for a moment, setting his tools down and curling his hands into loose fists. 

“because i’m alone here. all my friends and family all died nearly three hundred years ago,” he says sadly, and you see a single tear streak his cheek. 

the first tears you had seen him cry. 

you slowly get to your feet, your wool socks sinking into the plush carpet as you pad your way closer to the vampire. he tenses but doesn’t pull away when you pull him into a tight hug. 

“you aren’t alone here,” you whisper, mumbling into his hair as you bury your nose in it. it’s unbelievably soft and tickles your cheeks. viktor lets out a quiet gasp, but you don’t stop.

“you aren’t alone. i know it probably doesn’t help much, but i’m here, right? i want to be your friend. i want to be there for you if you are having a hard day. you just have to let me.” his grip tightens, and he finally speaks as you pull back and cup his cheeks, using your thumbs to wipe the tears away that are falling down his cheeks faster now. 

suddenly, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and soaking the neckline of your dress, his grease-stained fingers ruining the back of your dress. 

“thank you,” he says so softly you almost don’t hear him. you smile, even though he can’t see it, and gently run a hand through his soft hair.

“it’s not a problem at all.”

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor x y/n #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #viktor #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane: league of legends #cryptid!viktor #fairy writes

[writingwarden]

Between The Second Hand Smoke and The Glass on The Street

John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary- What happened between escaping Las Alma's and Alejandro's safe house.

TW-Canon typical injuries, small amounts of blood, panic attacks, inaccurate medical knowledge

Word Count- 1,590

 [A/N]- Full A/n at the end

Slamming on the gas pedal the truck lurches forward, driving away from the sound of gunshots, from the Shadow Company’s bullets that tried to stop the two soldiers from getting away. Silence filled the cabin for the truck save for the sound of the engine and the occasional grunt of pain as the man in the passenger seat tried to get comfortable. Ghost wanted to ask him questions but there were too many thoughts in his mind. I could have lost him and Why did this happen? were the main two, although the feelings of anger and betrayal hung in the air like a thick fog. He knew he shouldn’t dwell on these thoughts. He should be focusing on getting to one of the colonel’s safe houses and plan their next move. And he definitely knew he shouldn’t dwell on the thought that he could have lost the only person that truly understood him. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by movement beside him. Glancing from the corner of his eyes he sees Soap pull something from his vest, a flask. Soap untwists the cap with his uninjured arm and takes a long swig. 

“Want some, L.T?” Soap holds out the flask to him. 

“Depends on what's in there Johnny.” He knew a small sip wouldn’t affect his ability to function in the slightest. But he was a very picky man when it came to his choice in alcohol. He was like that with every drink, if he was being honest. 

“It’s water actually, ran out of the good shit right before we blew up that oil rig.” he explained, still holding the container out for Ghost to take. Ghost hesitated before grabbing it and taking a sip. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear it was holy water. The liquid brought a small relief to him. He hadn’t even realized just how much he needed the water. He took one last sip and handed the container back to Soap. “Keep an eye on the road.” The cabin descends into silence once again as Soap leans back into his seat and shuts his eyes.

The quiet left Ghost in his thoughts again. The dark road provided no solace, Alejandro’s safe house still hours out, they most likely wouldn’t arrive until right before dawn. Exhaustion leads his thoughts back to their dark place. He had to leave Soap behind. Instincts had led him to take off by himself but not before yelling at Soap to get out of there. He knows Soap could hold his own but those slow ticking minutes between watching him go down the hill and waiting before he heard his voice over the comms were far from the worst but were almost the longest minutes of his life. When he saw Soap approach the church he could’ve collapsed to the ground. But he didn’t because he knew they had to complete the mission. They have to make sure Shepard and his Shadow would pay for this. 

It hit him like a freight train. He could’ve lost the Sergeant. He thought back to the city and the smoke despite the rain. All that blood stained glass that littered the street, some his and many from the Shadows he had to take down; how much from the innocent? How much of it had been Johnnys? He looked at the man who looked no more than a body in the passenger seat. His breathing shallow and the wound slowly leaking blood, staining Johnny’s clothes and vest. He couldn’t take it anymore, his mind in overdrive, vision blurred, far beyond reason. All the events of the past week were catching up to him at the worst time. 

Deciding he could no longer safely drive he pulled onto the side of the road. It was empty and he was sure they weren’t being followed. It was a stupid decision. They should keep going, they had a place to be. They were on borrowed time. His mind screamed at him; he was going against all logic. No longer able to control his panic, his ability to breathe escaping him now. Every breath he took was short and unable to fill his lungs. He turned to Soap, feeling half blind every time he had to look at him, and gently shook the man. Soap shot up and looked around. He looked at Ghost and concern covered his face. 

“What’s up? Where are we?” He questioned. 

Ghost had no solid answer for him. “We need to bandage that,” he pointed at the gunshot wound and hoped the scot wouldn’t notice the obvious panic coming from him, “Need you fighting ready.” 

Soap looked at the wound then back at Ghost, he swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, right. Let's get on with it then.” He shuffled so the damaged arm was nearest to the man in the skull mask. 

Ghost pulled the medkit from his gear and took out disinfectant, bandages, and tweezers. He knew the bullet hadn’t gone all the way through, meaning he’d have to dig it out. Looking at Soap's face, his breathing paused in his chest. The man was looking at him fondly. Why? 

Recovering from his paused state he looked away, “This will hurt.” He murmured, knowing the other knew this already but he still felt the need to warn him. Ghost ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Soap, who bit down on the fabric and prepared himself. Ghost poured the disinfectant on the wound, a string of muffled curses came from the injured man. Ghost whispered an apology and took the tweezers into his hand. Knowing what would come next, Soap leaned his face into the seat. Ghost took the tweezers and dug into the wound, ignoring the muffled yelling and tight grip on his leg, he pulled the bullet out. They were incredibly lucky that the bullet didn’t break into fragments or cause Soap to lose the arms mobility. He quickly poured more disinfectant and dressed the injury. 

Ghost leaned back to observe his handiwork. It would do for now until they could actually get him to medical. Soap was still writhing in pain, a few tears escaping his closed eyes. “Johnny, How Copy?” He hoped to distract the man before they were back on the road. Hoped that talking to him would quell the raging anxiety stirring in his chest. 

 “Give me a minute and I’ll be right as rain.” Soap breathed out. Pain still ever present in his body language, the adrenaline and stim from earlier had worn off leaving sharp pain. Ghost turned back to the medkit and searched for painkillers. Finding some he ripped open the package and handed the small pills to Soap. The scot took them and downed them without water, face contorting now to a look of minor disgust at the taste. Soap reached for the flask and downed the last of the water. 

Ghost turned to survey the road and woods surrounding where he had pulled the car over. Rain was still a heavy constant against the windshield. The steady thunder as the droplets hit the roof of the truck. Taking slow shaking breaths he turned the keys over, the vehicle roaring to life. Taking another look at Soap he found the other man to be staring back at him. Soap had that look that he gets when he is running a diagnostic in his head. Those blue eyes staring directly into his soul. Ghost looked away, afraid of what the other might find if he looked into Ghost for too long. 

“It’s going to probably be another hour before we find somewhere to figure a plan out.,” He pressed his foot to the gas pedal and they were on the road again. “You should sleep until then. Try and get some of your strength back.” Ghost couldn’t stand the idea of being back in silence. He prayed the other man would stay awake and fill the air with chatter. Even if it was about what had just happened. 

“I don’t think I could even attempt to sleep right now.” Soap says, tiredness ever present in his voice. He turned away from Ghost and watched the trees pass. The silence was back. Why couldn’t he bring himself to talk. To reach over and grab Soap’s hand. Glancing over he watches the other man’s chest move up and down steadily. To hell with it all he thought. Ghost reached across the bench and grabbed the Scotsman's wrist. There was a steady pulse as Soap looked over at Ghost, slightly surprised. 

Johnny laced his fingers through Ghost’s gloved ones, realization in his eyes. “Simon…” the name so soft coming from him opposed to the harsh tone that it was usually used. 

Ghost kept his eyes on the dark road. The rain was slowing down, the first hint of dawn visible through the thin cracks in the clouds. A new day that surely promised stress and violence for the pair of soldiers. He said nothing. What could he even say? Feelings had never been his strong suit. He learned long ago that the things he loved would always end up mangled and full of grief. He couldn’t do that to Johnny. 

Soap didn’t say another word. Not a single syllable breathed into the early dawn. Only two scarred hands tightly entwined. The pressure in which they were locked silently said what the men could not. The grip was a reassurance. That whatever comes next they would face together in full.

[A/N]- Sorry if the ending seems rushed, I have been very sleep deprived and just need to get this out to y'all! Feedback is always welcomed!!

#soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod mwii fanfic #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #john soap mctavish fanfic

[ashintheairlikesnow]

as diwali starts to roll back around again i can’t help but think about eli. i know there was a reference in one of his fics to holi (when i tell you i SCREAMED) and it made me so happy (I SCREAMED)

anyway. would it be possible to receive a little snippet about eli’s feelings this time of year? no pressure ofc i’ve just got the brainrot

(It's true! Eli was born and spent his early childhood in India, before his parents moved to the United States when he was twelve years old. His earliest memories take place in northern India - his family is from Uttar Pradesh)

-

When he turns all the lights out, the lamps flicker and dance with a warm yellow and orange, placed on small tables on either side of his bedroom door. The rest of the room is lit with candles only, but at the doorway - the boundary between his own space and the space that others inhabit every day - he has placed the diyas. He has more in the window, just two small ones, but still.

Diyas - the small earthenware lamps he has lit using cloth wicks soaked in oil, bought from a store where a woman had greeted him with grandmotherly familiarity and a lyrical voice that had nearly split his head in two with a powerful memory.

Eli had stared at her while she gave him cheerful advice on which brand was best on something - he doesn't even remember what any longer, although it must be one of the things he bought, because he didn't argue with her.

But it wasn't her he was listening to. It wasn't the flat florescent light of the store he saw.

He heard his mother's voice, saw her lighting the lamps, her hand on his head as he pressed against her leg, holding tight to the sheer fabric dotted with gold threads in tiny circles she wore over her loose skirt. He remembers it being blue, and that single detail hurts in a way he can barely breathe past.

She had dressed to go visiting through the neighborhood, where everyone else also had lamps and there was laughter and singing everywhere he looked, and the house smelled like sugar and spices from what she had been cooking to take and share, but they hadn't yet left.

Nazadeek se dekhen, Jairaj, had come the memory of her voice. Eli had frozen in the aisle, staring at the woman, her lips moving but his mind was years ago and thousands of miles away. Bhay par aasha. Andhakaar par prakaash. Kya aap dekhate hain?

He had bought the lamps in a rush - a half-dozen of them, without question. Then he'd ended up leaving with another two hundred dollars' worth of anything that made his head hurt worse, anything familiar. He felt like he must look completely insane to those who watched him, squinting against a migraine and sweeping what felt like entire shelves into his rickety basket, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

Somehow he wound up with eight separate chutneys, an armful of spices in what he thought must be the exact jars and brands hiding underneath his thoughts, waiting to break free. Coriander, cumin, cardamom, mustard seeds, fenugreek, fennel seeds, tamarind, ajwain, asafoetida, chiles, fresh curry leaves even. He couldn't stop. He found bread, not just naan but paratha, ready-to-eat, in a refrigerator towards the back, and shoved it into his basket as well.

Paneer, he remembered paneer, cheese so fresh it squeaked sometimes between your teeth. His mother would fry it until it was brown and he would come home from school sometimes to a snack of chili cashews and spiced paneer, along with her smile and her voice calling, Jairaj!

The whole damn store smelled like something he had once known as well as his own hands, and now was strange to him and he chased the memories, even as his head hurt worse and worse.

Next to the cash register, there were little plastic containers with familiar round balls of dough inside, soaking in syrup. Eli's voice had caught in his throat, and he had wordlessly shoved one of the containers at the cashier, who had given him a slightly puzzled smile and wished him a good day.

Sitting here in the doorway, enjoying the lamplight coming from the diyas, he pops open the plastic container, inhales the strong scent of sugar and rose, with a hint of pistachio.

He is absolutely going to pass out from the pain in his head, but not before this.

Not before this.

He reaches inside, picks up one of the gulab jamun, and bites into it. Tears sting as he chews and run hot down his cheeks. Behind him, thousands of miles east, thousands west, a lifetime away no matter how you measured it, there were people laughing just outside the window as his mother offered to let him have just one taste before they took the rest for sharing, in a neighborhood lit with a thousand lights in every window, at every doorway, declaring that darkness did not win, that evil could not vanquish good, that hope remained even after despair.

Maybe his mother is still sitting, somewhere, with her own diyas lit and maybe even with the rangoli in its geometrics and curves laid out in fine colored sand seeming to dance in the light. Maybe his mother still cooks to share with a neighborhood full of lights.

Maybe she thinks of him, out there, wherever she is. Maybe she remembers a boy named Jairaj, when the remnants of that boy no longer can.

Eli weeps. He cries while he eats every single perfect chewy sweet ball in the container, and for the first time he can remember... Eli prays.

He can't remember the right words.

But he hopes that the memory that he did know, once upon a time, is enough.

#eli: the other half #yes he does call eli after this #for the record #whump oc #memory loss #original character #original fiction #bbu #box boy universe

[blithesharem]

Knife - 9 Days of Solomon

Day 3

I was stumped on this prompt for a while, so I decided to play to my strengths and pick up my knife...CHEFS KNIFE THAT IS.

Yes, from Solomon's cookbook to your table, I have for you a recipe for Solomon's Mystery Stew!

aka a modified Cioppino, or Italian-American Fisherman's stew!

Remember to channel your inner Solomon: recipes are guidelines not holy writ (unless you're baking). Always error to your own tastes and judgement. If you don't like an ingredient feel free to leave it out. If you love a certain vegetable, see how it tastes when added! I made a vegetarian version of this last night because I was too lazy to go to the store and buy seafood - it was still delicious!

Solomon's Mystery Stew

1-2 servings

Ingredients

Olive Oil

Kosher Salt

Fish Sauce (optional)

½ Sweet or Yellow Onion, diced

1 medium Fennel bulb, sliced. Reserve fronds for garnish if desired.

1-1.5 tb Tomato Paste

2 cloves Garlic, minced

¼-1/2 tsp Red Pepper Flakes (more or less to taste)

½ c White Wine – Pinot Grigio is what I use because I can buy small half bottles of it. Any light white is fine, but avoid Chardonnay which can be oaked. You can omit the wine if you desire but it really does add a nice layer of flavor. If you leave it out consider adding a squeeze of lemon or a splash of rice wine vinegar.

1 can Petite Diced Tomatoes

2 c Vegetable Stock - You can substitute chicken stock if it's what you have on hand, but not beef stock. Fish stock is awesome if you have access to it.

Seafood: Calamari, Shrimp, Mussels (cleaned). I can buy a small bag of frozen "seafood medley" at my grocery store that contains tiny octopus, calamari, baby shrimp and clams that I usually use. I drop the frozen bits right into the soup as it cooks. If you want to buy fresh that's great too but quality won't suffer if you opt for frozen.

Fish, cut into bite sized pieces and deskinned: Salmon, Cod, Halibut, etc – your choice! I find one filet is usually plenty for me. If you are serving 2 people do 2 filets.

Options for toppings:

Fresh Parsley, chopped

Fresh Cilantro, sprigs

Fresh lemon or lime slices

Tabasco Sauce

Kewpie Mayo

And of course you're going to want a nice crusty bread or your favorite crackers for serving.

Heat a small amount of olive oil in a pot. Heat should be medium to low. You want to sweat the veggies without browning them.

Add onions and sweat until translucent. 5ish min. Add fennel and garlic, stirring occasionally, for 2-3 minutes until fragrant. Season with a light sprinkle of salt. Increase heat to medium if using a low heat. Add tomato paste and red pepper flakes and cook while stirring for 2 minutes. Tomato paste should be lightly sizzling while cooking.

Increase heat to medium-high. Add wine slowly. Let simmer until reduced by half. Stir in diced tomatoes, Vegetable stock. Simmer covered for 15-20 minutes.

Add sea food. Simmer covered until seafood is done – Shellfish should be opened, Calamari should be opaque, Shrimp and fish firm. Taste broth and season broth with salt and more red pepper flakes if you desire. At this point I add a dash of fish sauce (my secret ingredient) but that's up to you.

Serve with lemon, parsley, and fennel fronds. I always drizzle a little Kewpie mayo on top as well. It melts into the broth and adds the most amazing sweet/sour flavor.

I hope you enjoy making this recipe! It's easier than it seems and once you have it down, its very easy to size it up to feed a larger group of people. If you have any questions feel free to DM me or ask in reblogs!

Happy 9 Days of Solomon!

#9 days of solomon #9daysofsolomon #blithe recipes