#loosing faith in humanity

[lchufflepuffcorn]

I’m sorry…

Are people really buying fanfiction of copyrighted works because the covers are aesthetic?

Let’s take a look on the definition of copyright, since so many people seems to not be fucking aware of it :

“A copyright is a type of intellectual property that gives the creator of an original work, or another right holder, the exclusive and legally secured right to copy, distribute, adapt, display, and perform a creative work, usually for a limited time. The creative work may be in a literary, artistic, educational, or musical form. Copyright is intended to protect the original expression of an idea in the form of a creative work, but not the idea itself. A copyright is subject to limitations based on public interest considerations, such as the fair use doctrine in the United States.

Some jurisdictions require "fixing" copyrighted works in a tangible form. It is often shared among multiple authors, each of whom holds a set of rights to use or license the work, and who are commonly referred to as rights holders. These rights normally include reproduction, control over derivative works, distribution, public performance, and moral rights such as attribution.

Copyrights can be granted by public law and are in that case considered "territorial rights". This means that copyrights granted by the law of a certain state do not extend beyond the territory of that specific jurisdiction. Copyrights of this type vary by country; many countries, and sometimes a large group of countries, have made agreements with other countries on procedures applicable when works "cross" national borders or national rights are inconsistent.

Typically, the public law duration of a copyright expires 50 to 100 years after the creator dies, depending on the jurisdiction. Some countries require certain copyright formalities to establishing copyright, others recognize copyright in any completed work, without a formal registration. When the copyright of a work expires, it enters the public domain.”

-Wikipedia (29/02/2024).

(Link here)

So, again. Do NOT sell fanfiction anyFUCKINGwhere. And yes. The swearing is important, it doesn’t even BEGIN to express the pure bafflement I had when I started to have videos on my TikTok about this exact thing.

What are people thinking ?? There aren’t enough videos about bookbinding 101 to your taste? You HAVE money for an ILLEGAL copy of an “ILLEGAL” piece of writing, mostly socially accepted because people don’t charge for it? So, I’m guessing you have money to buy the products you need to book-fucking-bind YOURSELF!!

What. The. Fuck.

People are becoming way too comfortable with fanfiction, this is crazy. Have we learned nothing since the Anne Rice vs. Fanfiction ? Or, and despite her flaws, the J.K. Rowling vs. Dimitri Yemets lawsuit?

And I know, I know, that laws change depending on the country, the state, provinces, etc, but still, people. Have some restraint.

“In addition, fanfiction may be legal in the UK following passage into law of an exception to copyright for the purpose of caricature, parody, or pastiche.”

-Wikipedia 29/02/2024

(Link here)

‘But the author of the fanfic and/or the creator of the art gave me permission…’ I don’t fucking care! Hell, I don’t want to hear it. They should NOT by the ones giving you the rights to SELL materials that are not copyrighted TO THEM.

Maybe you have lawsuit money, doesn’t mean that the actual authors of the fanfiction that you are selling do! And it’s not actually you who you’re getting in trouble by selling things. Hell. It’s one of the laziest scam I’ve ever seen. Yes. Some of the covers might be really beautiful, but ultimately, they are making profit out of something that are not theirs to make profit about.

“But I really want to have one and don’t have the talent…” then either learn or make really good friends with someone who is talented for it enough for them to GIFT you a bookbinded copy.

This is not only making the lives of those fanfiction writers whose work you stole difficult, plus having the chance (negative connotation) of maybe being sued for the selling they most probably didn’t do themselves. But you’re also ruining the experience of thousands of reader all around the globe as writers are pulling their work out of the sites because of that.

Seriously, learn to think about the big picture and stop only thinking of only yourself. Self-care should stops when you’re starting to hurt others while doing it.

I’m leaving here various post to educate yourself further on the matter, or just to feed your curiosity, plus videos of Tiktoker that graced my FYpage all this week.

[dirtytransmasc]

working at a summer camp makes me hate 90% of the adults in this world and brings back trauma I didn't remember having. like oh my god, they're horrible to these kids. like they forget they're little, they're babies.

I have a kid, she's in our state for the summer, she lives with her mom another state during the year. she's stressed, she's away from her person, she's at a camp where she doesn't know anyone, she's stressed out. she was labeled a problem child and a cry baby before I even got a chance to work with her (I'm not a special counselor or anything, I'm just good with kids, so I kinda get used like a miracle worker by everyone else, which is kinda annoying, but I don't complain cause the kids need me).

it's the 3rd day of the second week of the session, so she's been here over a week, everyday she's spent most of the day hysterical, getting yelled at, and being so anxious that she would go all day without eating. you would assume that the director and supervisor at the very elast would have done something about this????? right????? nope.

first day I worked with her, I came to the realization that they just kept yelling as this 7 year old, for being overwhelmed, never once gave her a single tool to help calm down, and actively made the problem worse.

you wanna know what I did that calmed her down and got her playing with the other kids and actually enjoying camp in less than five minutes? I was kind, I gave her a breathing exercise to do, I explained what she was feeling (she kept saying she didn't know why she was upset, why she was crying, etc. cause she was too young to understand what it felt like to be overwhelmed/overstimulated) and "magically" everything was fine. did this stop another counselor from reporting it to the director, no, for whatever my co-counselor said she was "misbehaving" and was "difficult" and than the director came in her and threatened her with consequences if she didn't "pull herself together" (reminder, this kid is 7, going through a custody issue with her parents, and has extreme anxiety that manifests physically in the form of nausea). this of course sent her from being conversational and calm back into hysterics (I have no other word for how bad this break downs are, they're like panic attacks on steroids).

said counselors were back out of the room and within five minutes, with those breathing exercises, she was calm again. in the span of a few hours, I got a kid who no one had heard speak outside of tears playing and laughing and telling stories about her mom and her home (things that would typically set her off). it's so rewarding watching her come out of her shell and love camp, but so heartbreaking she spent over a week miserable.

this isn't the only case of this here, it's been like this since the current supervisor and director got hired and I need them to quit, cause they're ruining this camp (that has been here for generations, literally) for all of us. so many of the staff want to quit, kids don't want to come, we get less and less junior counselors, and all of us are miserable.

[galaxyspark-6e16]

so a bit of an update because i don't think i will post anything viewing the following; university is fine, my pc won't work and my phone got stolen so there's that too, so not a great week soo far

[omorinintendoswitchedition]

In celebration of the hero enraged meme getting over 400 notes here’s him working in customer service

[walterdecourceys]

i wanna marry harry is insane. how was this show allowed to exist

[druckkugelschreiber]

Me watching Grey's Anatomy is an experiment at how often it can make me think: I hate people

Results: I have lost count actually

[bayoubodycount]

What my son, a faithful Christian whose bestie and bro for life is an Iraqi Muslim, wants to do every time he gets asked for the zillionth time by some ignorant a$$hole,"What's it like, pretending to be friends with a terrorist?"

Vs. what he actually does, knowing they're not worth the trouble by any stretch:

[ihearttaylorswift]

work was way too tiring today

[basicallyjustmuggleremuslupin]

i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate group projects, i hate-

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[rochenn]

The year is 2034. Disney announces the production of the show "Resistance: Dooku of Serenno", set during the early days of the Empire, starring CG Christopher Lee.

We begin with a flashback to Revenge of the Sith. After Dooku is beheaded, we learn that he used the Force to supply his brain with blood and oxygen. The movie is visibly retconned - as Obi-Wan, Anakin and Palpatine flee the Invisible Hand, four human parts can be spotted stealthily floating after them.

Dooku, being Dooku, survives the crash and manages to steal away. His head is surgically reattached. Don't ask why nobody else ever stitched their lightsaber-chopped limbs back on. He ends up getting prosthetic hands, anyway. David Filoni said in a behind-the-scenes interview that he thought they were cool.

Previously established canon prevents Dooku from doing anything in-character until Order 66. He lets loose in Coruscant's undercity and becomes the local kooky old man who couldn't possibly be public enemy number one until Mace Windu, freshly fried and unhanded, crashes down in front of him. What a coincidence.

Mace is still played by Sam L. Jackson. He is So Old. He is only there for the paycheck. Disney didn't know how to recast him. He is acting alongside the shell of a man who has been dead for two decades.

After a joke about missing hands that is very funny, the two get along swimmingly. They don't really talk about Dooku's various war crimes. "My droid army would never traumatize a young child," Dooku says with a wink into the camera. Remember to buy your Mandalorian merch.

Mace and Dooku organize an underground resistance on Coruscant in the spirit of the Confederacy. Mace is okay with this. Choice aspects of this arc are compelling, like the fight against fascism under the yoke of cruel state suppression, but tone-deaf allusions to the work of Sophie Scholl cause controversy abroad. Andor did it better. Critics on YouTube who thus far lauded the return of fan favorites and 'faithful casting' tear into the show for pushing the woke agenda.

Nothing Mace and Dooku accomplish has any impact on the Original Trilogy. What were you expecting? The end of the show teases a second season with the arrival of a mysterious woman. Dooku's secret wife. You never knew of her because she was never relevant before. As the final credit music slowly creeps in, she says: "Don't you want to see your son?"

The music swells and we cut to Serenno. The planet has never been mentioned throughout all 15 episodes of the show. Standing in the ruins of Dooku's castle is Dooku's son: back turned to the viewer, gazing into the sunset. Dooku II of Serenno, proud heir, turns his head. He is played by Harry Styles.

Roll credits.

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

[daisys-reality]

── ☔ꜞ˖ ꒰ 𝙿𝙰𝙲: 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 ꒱

Hello my fellow shifters, here is your ☔ reading which you've voted for!

Do you want to know why all of this is exactly happening? Do you want guidance and answers because you want to know where you’re standing in your shifting journey and how to move forward? What are you heading towards exactly? I’ll try to find answers to such questions for you in this reading. Choose a picture and enjoy your reading!

Also check out my  masterlist if you want! Fyi I don't own any of these beautiful pics, they're all from pinterest. 🤍

──

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴

Why were you meant to find shifting? What is your (higher) reason for finding shifting? (for personal shifting reasons, please check out my other pac reading)

To develop your creative force, to be more daring and to follow your passion and ideas, to make you follow your dreams, to trigger growth, to give you a spark for new beginnings, to recover the joy of life/the magic of life

To give you strength in trying times (mental/health struggles, feeling rejected by this world, feeling lonely and not understood, …), to help you endure those almost impossible trials in your (cr) life, to help you stay resilient, to strengthen your resolve and faith

To evoke a nostalgia for sweeter times, to find your innocence again, to connect with specific people/souls, some people want to connect with you, to strengthen your connection with spirituality/the world of spirits, to go on adventures and partly to re-experience childhood especially if you felt like you missed out a lot in your younger years, to experience love/soul connection in other realities

This message only applies to people with specific spiritual beliefs: if you feel like you have a specific purpose in this life, it might actually be a major purpose for which you need to be strong, that’s why you experienced so many hard lesson in your life until now, shifting is there to make your experience in this reality a little bit easier/enjoyable, to give you strength to keep going because there is something great waiting for you, for some it feels like an exceptionally strong soul connection (!!), for some of you it feels a bit like a so called “twinflame” connection that is finally tuning into the same frequencies in this human life/reality - if you believe in this type of connections

Major theme in your journey: Learning something specific?

To learn to connect with yourself and your emotions on a deeper level, expressing yourself wholly and authentically with youthful purity, to learn to love yourself and other as well as learning to enjoy your experience here and in other places/realities, to make use of your sensitivity and to develop your own spiritual beliefs, to just have fun and to let things happen to you, no one and no thing(reality) is bigger, better or more important than you - there is no hierarchy, there is no specific worth you need to have - you are able and “allowed” to experience anything you desire whether it is true love, freedom, adventure, joy, comfort or just silly romance. No one is deciding above your head on what you may or may not do in this universe. It's important that you understand this. (Connecting, loving and expressing/communicating seem to be very significant here in general)

The difference between you right now and the you in the ‘future’ that finally succeeds (shifting)

Disclaimer: ‘Future’ is a loose word and time is not really real anyways. So, everything that is not the ‘present’ or the ‘past’, represents the future. ‘future you’ can be you in a second, you after reading this or you in a week etc.

‘Future you’ embodies the queen of swords energy. ‘Future you’ is strong and knows it. You will know that you're protected, you will be fearless and fierce, unbiased and independent. You will stay calm and open minded while still being firm (not accepting less than your ‘goal’, firm boundaries + direct communication), not giving in because ‘future you’ knows that it’s only fair that you succeed - you’re meant to succeed, you’re meant to shift. You’ll see your situation with open eyes, mind and heart, remaining positive and not losing hope. Your insights will make your beliefs stronger, therefore your faith will become also strong and unwavering. You. Will. Shift. Periodtt.

Advice for you right now:

Keep looking and acknowledging the signs around you, focus on recovery (your health, your energy etc.), forgive and fully release your past. be in the present moment and be free. 

Timing: “Create space (in your mind, life etc.) for it to happen sooner”, “Release any attachment to timing”, “Time is still unknown” (the energy is mutable)

Thanks for reading!🤍☔

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾

Why were you meant to find shifting? What is your (higher) reason for finding shifting? (for personal shifting reasons, please check out my other pac reading)

To learn/practice long term commitment, to become more determined in life, to learn how to complete a “project”, to be decisive

To awaken the power of self, to build balance, to find your inner beauty and learning to appreciate it, to build your self-esteem, to give you the ability to see a future for yourself

To  understand the spiritual nature of life, to develop your intuitive abilities, and your grace in dealing with others

To increase your knowledge and wisdom, to learn to listen to your subconsciousness, to get encouraged to form your own conclusions, to recognize your vast yet subtle powers, to become a mystery in the eyes of others

Major theme in your journey: Learning something specific?

Learning more about spirituality and other spiritual beliefs and practices, finding your joy in those things, learning about & developing your new spiritual gifts or abilities, getting closer to spirit world

Learning how to make use of your emotions/feelings and your compassion, learning how to be more receptive to creative opportunities and loving connections, and to be more deeply compassionate for other living beings

Creating the start of a new life and a new version of yourself

Learning and practicing self reflection, making important decisions for yourself and about yourself (ex. who do you want to be, etc.)

The difference between you right now and the you in the ‘future’ that finally succeeds (shifting)

Disclaimer: ‘Future’ is a loose word and time is not really real anyways. So, everything that is not the ‘present’ or the ‘past’, represents the future. ‘future you’ can be you in a second, you after reading this or you in a week etc.

‘Future you’ knows that your life will drastically change and there is no going back, the change is necessary. ‘Future you’ went through a metamorphosis and is embodying the ‘king of swords' energy combined with the energy of volcano deity Pele. Your power will be enhanced by your wisdom. ‘Future you’ is wild and free, capable of anything, patient and persevering. ‘Future you’ knows exactly what to do to succeed. ‘Future you's’ approach to shifting will be very structured and disciplined, while your mind force (will power + confidence) will be wild and uncontrollable like an explosion or the eruption of a volcano. ‘Future you’ cannot be held back, shifting is inevitable at that point.

Advice for you right now:

Reconsider your current mindset one more time, spend time reflecting and ask for help from others, perhaps communicate your current ideas/plans with someone close to you to gain another perspective, communicate clearly (specifically with yourself), focusing on romance might have a positive influence!

Timing: “When you’re truly ready for it”, “Don’t lose hope”, “Create space (in your mind) for it to happen sooner” >prepare the metamorphosis<, “Gain more knowledge/wisdom”, “Meditating brings answers” 

Thanks for reading!🤍☔

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

Why were you meant to find shifting? What is your (higher) reason for finding shifting? (for personal shifting reasons, please check out my other pac reading)

To have the opportunity to fulfill all your many dreams and aspirations. You might have so many that you wouldn’t be able pursue them in “just one normal life”

To stop procrastination and to choose and go after the things you desire in life

To learn to differentiate between “illusion and reality” especially in regards to what you really want to experience and what you think you want to experience… some opportunities can often lead to a major disaster (if you’re someone who romanticizes dangerous realities… shifting there might not be the best idea, buddy)

to leave seemingly good things behind in the pursuit of higher ideals, to go deeper into introspection and starting to seek the truth and to come to realizations about yourself and about life/universe etc.

Major theme in your journey: Learning something specific?

(This is very specific and only relates to those who have special s/o:) Going through a rocky connection with someone who is probably from another reality and going through all these feelings/moods/longing in this “long distance connection”... I feel like this is about one specific person and you developed feelings for them..? Even though you’re pretty much opposites, you complement each other well and I think you feel this too… Learning how to love healthily is a theme in your journey…even ideal relationships still face difficulties, right? 

Learning how to create a stable lifestyle/mindset and to actively be thankful towards yourself but also for the things you have gained and experienced and to cherish them and the people who support you

Your shifting journey is the built up to your happily-ever-after (your reunion with someone specific and the start of many happy moments) 

The difference between you right now and the you in the ‘future’ that finally succeeds (shifting)

Disclaimer: ‘Future’ is a loose word and time is not really real anyways. So, everything that is not the ‘present’ or the ‘past’, represents the future. ‘future you’ can be you in a second, you after reading this or you in a week etc.

‘Future you’ is grounded, down-to-earth and very practical and organized. They are always on the move, improving, perhaps even teaching others, sharing their experiences and realizations. They are starting to be very secure in their beliefs and they are eager to travel the universe. Also, they feel abundant in energy, they are very self reflected and therefore overall balanced and stable in their home/cr life. ‘Future you’ acts very motherly towards themself - pushing themself when it needs to be and taking care of themself when they need a rest. ‘Future you’ does not lose their temper when things go ‘awry’, they always keep moving steadily towards their plans/goals

‘Future you’ overcomes the procrastination and follows their passion with much force. They are not scared of what is to come because they are so secure within that they feel comfortable enough to be daring in the pursuit of their goals.

Advice for you right now:

You might have to change your focus right now or rethink your current plans - there is another path that leads to more big happy changes. Always remain positive, don’t stop or procrastinate -  take action!

Timing: “Refocus and stop waiting for it”, “Trust that it will happen when the time is right”, “Summer time” (- perhaps in 2 months from now? August could be lowkey an important/happy month for you and your journey…)

Thanks for reading!🤍☔

──

[onskepa]

Yay requests are open!

What about a platonic Ronal x scientist? Yes they study the planet but ronal cannot help but like them because they respect the culture, her medical skills and only seems to find the silver lining in her stiff comments. Like come on human I am trying to make you leave through the power of rude and you just gave me a freidnship bracelet? Wtf I imagine tonowari just snickering every night as she complains about her new best friend

Hellooooooooo darling~!!

Yes! Another ronal fic! Thank you for requesting and I hope this cute fic will satisfy you and everyone else! Enjoy~!

Irayo pt2

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Irayo

“You are good to go, if anything goes wrong or if they are not very welcoming, just say the word and we will get you” the head director of the ocean na’vi program says. In front of him was the new girl. Determined and open minded to learn new things, and was given the ultimate task. 

Make the first human contact with the reef na’vi. 

Nodding in excitement, the new recruit gets into a canoe with her prepared items. Making sure she is set for sail, she looks at her comrades. “I will let you know everything. Hopefully, this can go well. If doctor Agustine has faith in us, we can't lose” she says with optimus in her voice. 

Saying her last farewell, she sets off to the Metkayina island. 

“This will be good, I can feel it!”

She arrives at the island, her eyes in awe as she gets closer to the shore. So many na’vi! They all stare at her, many in fear, others in curiosity, and many ready to fight her. Raising her hands, she gets out from her canoe and displays she is of no harm. 

“I come in peace, I bring no harm” the human girl announces in perfect, fluent na’vi. 

Many, from what she suspects are warriors, stare at her in surprise. 

“You are a sky demon! Leave or we will not be easy on you!” one of the warriors warned her. Another warrior follows after. 

“We heard what you did with the forest na’vi, leave! You only bring death and sorrow wherever you go”. 

The tension was building fast among the other people. Mothers protecting their children, might warriors standing in front of the weak. Any wrong move and she might end up dead. Which is a high factor. 

The crowd breaks as two significant looking na’vi walks through, from how they are dressed and the others willing to step aside, the human knew exactly who they were. 

And it gave her excitement. Already the first and she is seeing so much! 

The human was quick with the traditional na’vi greeting of “I see you”. In hopes that the tension can lessen if she displays their ways. 

The Tsahik and Olo’eyktan looked at her carefully. Observing her every move and detail. Small hint of disgust but also confusion as to why a human is here. 

“Hello, I bring no harm. I am here to learn your ways. Allow me to prove myself to you, perhaps you have heard of the dark stories of what the humans did to other na’vi, but I promise you that I only bring peace. Please, teach me your ways”. 

Ronal doesn't know what or how or even why. But after a lengthy discussion with Tonowari, they granted the human permission to enter their home. And learn their ways. As best a human can learn. While Tonowari was more loose on letting the human in, Ronal felt different, at first she came defensive and was always on alert should the human do something that seems bad under her eyes. 

But the human was aware where the line drew, only did what she was allowed to and dared not to push boundaries. Ronal wasn't making it any easier for the human. None whatsoever. In fact, Ronal planned to make things so difficult for the human that she would have no other choice but to leave. 

Now if only it worked that, and not Ronal making it harder for herself. 

 “Put more strength in your arms. It must be thinned out and easy to separate. Any thicker and it will be difficult to mix” Ronal instructed the human with a harsh tone. She was teaching the human how to make crushed, thin, dust-like green material. Very dry leaves that were thoroughly picked from their small forest.

The human woman smiled and obeyed, “alright tsahik”. Doing exactly what she is being told. That is the thing that irks ronal. The human doesn't fight back. She doesn't do anything! 

“A child can do a better job than you,” Ronal says with a snarky tone. The human just takes it, “I don't doubt it. This is more of their ways” the human replies with such calmness in her voice. Not a hint of anger, impatience, nothing. 

“Dont think this will be enough, there is still much more to grind down” Ronal says, as she places a lot more dried grass in the already big pile. The human stops for a few seconds to look at the bigger addition. Ronal smirks, surely this will be it? “Guess I better grind faster to finish all of these” the human says in glee and continues to grind. 

Ronal’s smirk left her lips, fine then. Tomorrow will be worse. 

Harsher insults, harsher training, harsher practice. Ronal threw everything at the human, but nothing breaks the human girl. And it infuriates her to the core. Why wasn't she fighting back? Why was she accepting everything? Why was she letting ronal belittle her? 

Ronal’s anger grew to where Tonowari had to enterfier. 

“Ronal, perhaps you are pushing her too far?” he asks her one day. Ronal scoffs as she does her small tasks in their home. “The human can bare it. Anything I give her, she accepts. That utter fool” she replies. Annoyance heavy on her tone. “She won't break so easily. Not made of sea glass” she continues. 

Tonowari sighs, walks up to her and places a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps not, but your tolerance is thinner than these fibers. Perhaps by surprise, it will be you who will break first”. 

The human began to make and wear her na’vi like clothing to fit in more. And as she talked more with the other clan members, more began to welcome her with open arms and even into their homes. Adapting more into their culture and ways of life. They began to accept her. 

Ronal wasn't so ready to accept the human. 

Not yet at least. 

One night, after the communal dinner, Ronal took the human away from the noise and into a more quiet part of the small forest. Yet, along the way, the human not once asked where they were going. Never questioned ronal’s actions, her odd behavior. Nothing. 

When they arrived at a beautiful blue glowing waterfall, Ronal kept a bit of distance from the human. 

“Tell me human, why do you accept?” Ronal asks after a few minutes of silence. 

The human blinked once, “accept what tsahik?”. 

Hissing in frustration, Ronal turns to look at the human in anger. 

“Why do you accept everything?! I keep pushing you to do beyond what you physically can. Accept any insulting word I give you. Force you to do things clearly you are not very comfortable with. Why do you accept my harsh treatment towards you?” 

The human sees Ronal and sees how she truly feels. Taking a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, the human does what she does best. 

Give her an honest smile. 

“You have every right to treat me that way. While I am not personally responsible for the thousands of killings of the na’vi, I still feel ashamed and guilty as if it were my own crimes. My kind has treated your kind terribly. So, I understand if you feel any anger or hatred towards me for simply being human. But I accept, I accept it all. If it means to be part of your world, your clan. I would gladly accept anything you throw at me. This is a dream come true for me. This planet, the life it holds. The environments, plants, animals, you. I love and respect everything about your world. All I desire is to learn how things are. From learning about Eywa to learning of the na’vi ways. My only desire is to learn. To have you personally teach me, it is a high luck I could never get anywhere else. So that is why I accept all that you give me. A price to pay for the things I can see and experience. So Tsahik, that is why I accept it. As my way to thank you” 

Ronal saw the human, looking deep into her eyes to detect any lies, but all she saw was the truth. 

“You fool…”

“Irayo, just in time for breakfast” Ronal welcomes her human friend. Irayo, that is what Ronal calls her ever since that night. It's been stuck to her ever since, not that she plans to defy the tsahik wishes. 

Irayo sits in the home of ronal and tonowari. Accepting the food, she begins to eat. But not soon after, she felt a little tug from her wrist. Looking down, Irayo sees little tsireya playfully tugging at her bracelet. Taking it off, she hands it to tsireya who tries to bite down on it. 

“Has tsireya began teething?” Irayo asks, ronal nods but gives a disapproving look.

“She will rip off the beads. You worked so hard to make it for us” Ronal says as she points to her own matching bracelet. Irayo laughs, “that is fine. It will give me an excuse to make better friendship brackets for us. I will even make another for cute little tsreiya” Irayo replies as she playfully pinches tsireya’s chubby cheeks, making the child squeal in delight. 

Tonowari sits down to join them. 

“Today irayo and I will attend to the elderly, tsireya will be under your care until noon” Ronal says to him. 

Tonowari nods, but couldn't help but smirk a bit. Leaning in, he whispers into Ronal’s ear. “Your friendship with irayo has improved greatly. I still remember when you called her many foolish names”. 

Ronal rolls her eyes and taps his forehead lightly. 

“I recall no such things. Irayo has been my good friend from the start”

Aaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Until next time, see ya!

-------

Irayo = Thank you

[ebullientheart]

the nice guy. spencer reid x reader

content — fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. casual mention of sex. loosely based on season four episode nine. case talk. nondescript injury to reader.

you explain to spence the difference between a nice guy and a ‘nice guy’.

“i don’t understand this.”

morgan spun on his chair, “what’s that, wonder boy?”

the files he was flicking through were baffling him. each of the interview transcripts read the same sort of thing. ‘oh, he was a textbook ‘nice guy’ you know’, or something to that effect.

you were the one conducting that set of witness interviews, and the text before him showed no confusion on your part as you continued your original line of questioning. concluding this meant you understood, spencer ignored derek’s response and instead got up to find you. predictably, in garcia’s office, watching unreleased films, seeing as your paperwork was long completed.

“can i ask you something?” he interjected, causing penelope to throw popcorn at him as a consequence of her surprise.

“can you knock?” she quipped back, but he wasn’t really listening to her. spencer could become pretty single minded when he set his focus on something, especially if it was something he didn’t understand.

you excused yourself and followed him into the hall. the simple window on your right showed nothing but the clouded night sky, meaning only a few people lingered in the office now. spencer turned the light on by reaching past your head to the switch, while you tried to ignore the way your stomach felt upon having him lean over you.

clearing your throat, you addressed him, “what did ya need, spence?”

he showed you what he’d been preoccupied with, “what does this mean? we profiled our unsub as desperate, creepy, and we were right. why did they all describe him as a nice guy?”

you pondered for a moment on how best to explain it to him before you answered.

“they’re kind of being sarcastic. a textbook ‘nice guy’ is a guy who really pities himself, quotes ‘nice guys finish last’, that sort of thing. he thinks he’s so kind, and for that women owe him sex, so when they don’t meet that standard, he just believes women only like jerks. he sees himself as good, but he doesn’t comprehend why women would take offence to his sexual reward system for human decency.”

spencer frowned, “there are enough of them that women have a collective name for this?”

you nodded, “trademarked and everything.”

“really?”

“no, kidding.”

he smiled at you and you returned it, his curiosity fulfilled and his faith in humanity slightly lessened, as it was case by case.

a few days later, you were all jetting off to another police department, examining files and bouncing theories. spencer sat on your left, the only one close enough to hear the low rumble of your stomach. chuckling to himself, he produced a breakfast bar from his satchel and slid it over to you. the overjoyed expression on your face at food, and food in your favourite flavour, prompted him to remember your ‘nice guy’ conversation.

you offered him your thanks and he answered, “you’re welcome. no sex required.”

even though he was half kidding, half sincere, you gave him a whole laugh, easy and unabashed. the smile he donned was satisfied at initiating such glee from you.

as the investigation progressed, the danger became more and more apparent. the team knew someone was going to end up hurt, but it didn’t stop them from flinching as they saw you swinging your legs in the back of an ambulance, taking emergency blood supply. you rolled your eyes at their concern, “really, i’m fine guys. just a scratch.”

they weren’t so quick to dismiss your injury, but they didn’t hover. they had protocol to follow, local cops to brief, and press to alert. the only one who lingered was spencer, awkwardly sitting next to you at your invitation. he thought about wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder as a chill set in the air, but was too afraid to dislodge the tube. you bit the bullet of his worrying and leaned until he was prompted to support you.

“are you alright?” he knew it wasn’t the right thing to ask you, but he wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment, not when you were pressed against him so the warmth from your body bled through his vest to his own skin.

you gave a light shrug, but didn’t comment further, instead saying, “you’re nice, spencer. the real way.”

he hummed, “how’d you know?”

“nice guy trademark would’ve tried to kiss me by now. you’re just holding me.”

he knew what he was about to admit was a risk, but the question burned in his throat, “what if i wanted to? kiss you?”

you looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. if he tried, he could count every one of your eyelashes, even though a few were clumped together by smudges of mascara that had congealed in your initial reaction to the wound. there was a brightness in your irises that sparked something in his chest. the hand you could move freely came up to his face, which had become flushed. you could feel the heat beneath your palm, but couldn’t make it out visually with his back to the ambulance light.

“i’d think you’re even nicer.”

he didn’t seem all that surprised, “can i?”

“please.”

[smallgodseries]

He is a god of frontiers.

He is born again in every child who turns their eyes toward the stars, toward the sea, toward the horizon, and he grows with them.  He is young and old at the same time, all ages and all things, and always looking outward.

Windows are his.  Portholes.  External cameras.  He is not a god of surveillance, but he is a god of seeing, of the endless need to behold the wonders of the cosmos, of the world around us.  He only wants to look.  He has no desire to settle, or to damage, or to claim.

When first a maritime explorer donned a diving helmet, Yuri was there to egg them on, cajoling and encouraging, begging them to let him loose on new sights and new experience.  And when humanity set their skills toward space, Yuri was on the first satellite out, waiting for the moment when his faithful would join him, when they would see.

He was there with Laika when the heat grew too great, when her breathing grew too labored, and he did what good gods have always done, and held her close for so long as he was needed.  He looks now in her honor, as he looks in the honor of all those who have reached, whether of their own volition or at another’s.  She was not his by choice, but she was his at the end, and he is a god of his word.

He only hopes that you can have the chance to see.

He hopes you will keep your eyes open, and take him with you when you go.