#runic language

[renegade-hierophant]

Medieval Runes, Quick Guide

ᛆ - a, á ᛅ - æ ᚰ - ǫ ᚮ - o, ó ᚯ - ø, œ ᛁ - i, í, j ᛂ - e, é ᚢ - u, ú, v ᚤ - y, ý

ᛆᚢ ᛅᚤ ᛅᛁ au ey ei

ᛔ ᛒ ᛘ ᚦ ᚧ ᛐ ᛑ ᚿ p b m þ ð t d n

ᚴ ᚵ ᚶ ᚼ ᚠ ᛚ ᚱ ᛋ ᛎ k g ng h f l r s z

This correlation between Runic and Latin letters is not 100% historical, since there was no one way of writing Old Norse and its daughter languages.

Medieval Runes were used after the Old Norse period, for writing early Norwegian, Danish, and Swedish dialects of the 12th century and later, which have already underwent certain changes. Also the same letters were used for different sounds between each dialect, and some letters had different shapes as well. So there is no correct way of writing Old Norse with Medieval Runes as there was no standard orthography, and this one is just as good as any.

What I have devised though is the simplest one-on-one transcription from Latin to Runic, though backwards this isn't possible since some Runes represent two or more sounds, which are distinct in the Latin script.

[borom1r]

i fucking hate anglosaxon. the things im doing for a fucking fic. gods help me.

[knightofleo]

Does your url come from knights of the zodiac?

It does not! It's just something I cooked up when I was seventeen-ish and needed an online name, my real one skews a bit ethnically in terms of letters and sounds that english-identifying individuals have a bit of trouble with. So it's one part me looking around the room at that point in time and having a George Glass moment when I saw my favourite game (at the time) on a shelf, which was Resident Evil 4. And it's one part me (again, at that point in time) having a fixation on the concept of people tending to grow up to become the kind of person they themselves would have needed when they were a kid, so in my delusion that I would ever become such a thing, I tried to incorporate that, hence, knight of leo.

[crowdsourced-runic-conlang]

Hello I've made a few conlangs before but now I'm making a new one where you do all the work for me. It's going to be runic where you take basic words and overlay them to create new ones. I've figured out nothing else. First person to reply chooses word order. (Once the language gets kinda developed I'm going to make that my pfp. Till then it's default)

[chronosbled]

{ Aorta, my sweet darling boy, you deserved so much better than you got in your visual novel. Don't worry, I'll do my best to give you all the love and compassion that you deserve. }

[cold-earth-connection]

New tattoo from just before Christmas

i.) Ansuz [ Breath, Odin ]

ii.) Uruz [ Challenge, Auroch ]

iii.) Kenaz [ Flame, Torch ]

- Elder Futhark Runes

[thiccspicecc]

Here is the runic script used by the kingdom where the main protagonist lives.

The pronunciations of these runes coincide with the IPA for my invented language. Here are a few examples of how it would look.

Terrelais is the more jokey language I am making for the Elves in my story to speak.

I have created an OpenType and TrueType font file for this script, there is a way I think of making it a font I can use on Tumblr but it would require me converting the files onto google fonts and then implementing that in the HTML code of my blog. And then if I can make it to work it might only work on a computer browser and not on my phone.

[xcookedxchroniclesx]

ᛗᚨᚢ︍᛫ᚢ︍ᛟᚢ᛫ᚠᚨᚲ︍ᛖ᛫ᛖᚨᚲ︍ᚺ᛫ᛞᚨᚢ︍᛫ᚹᛁᚦ︍᛫ᚦ︍ᛖ᛫ᚲ︍ᛟᚢᚱᚨᚷᛖ᛫ᛟᚠ᛫ᚢ︍ᛟᚢᚱ᛫ᚨᚾᚲ︍ᛖᛊᛏᛟᚱᛊ᛫ᚨᚾᛞ᛫ᚹᛁᚦ︍᛫ᚦ︍ᛖ᛫ᛈᚱᛁᛞᛖ᛫ᚦ︍ᚨᛏ᛫ᚢ︍ᛟᚢ᛫ᚲᚾᛟ᛫ᚢ︍ᛟᚢ᛫ᚺ‍ᚨᚹ︍ᛖ᛫ᚨᚾᛞ᛫ᛗᚨᚢ︍᛫ᚾᛟ᛫ᛟᚾᛖ᛫ᛊᛏᛖᚨᛚ᛫ᛖᛁᚦ︍ᛖ‍ᚱ᛫ᚠᚱᛟᛗ᛫ᚢ︍ᛟᚢ

[tomriddleslove]

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

[tails-of-a-dragon-rider]

Do you like making magic for your settings, but need ideas for what symbols you should use? Want to make sigils, but the methods available just don't hit right with you? Do you want to roleplay as a mage solving people's problems with spells and gylphs?

Well, this solo RPG may be your ticket to success in at least some of those things!

GLYPH, as stated by its itch.io page, is "...a single player adventure in runic magic, an exercise in creativity, and a supplement to add language and artistry into a variety of tabletop roleplaying games." It was made by the Oddments game company.

I've been watching the progress and creation of the RPG since its first posting and honestly, I love it! The ideas are simple, but creatively inspiring and fun to work with! The structure is minimal, but it is just enough to start your own ideas and make your work personal to you.

I'm not very good at explaining how good it is, but here's a page preview of what I have done so far!

It's only $5 and it's pretty obscure, but I highly recommend it! (This isn't sponsored or anything, I'm completely unconnected to Oddments or any of their workers.)

Here's the link:

@theresattrpgforthat

[broomsick]

List of interesting ressources pertaining to norse paganism, scandinavian folklore and history, and nordic religions in general

These are sources I have personally used in the context of my research, and which I've enjoyed and found useful. Please don’t mind if I missed this or that ressource, as for this post, I focused solely on my own preferences when it comes to research. I may add on to this list via reblog if other interesting sources come to my mind after this has been posted. Good luck on your research! And as always, my question box is open if you have any questions pertaining to my experiences and thoughts on paganism.

Mythology

The Viking Spirit: An Introduction to Norse Mythology and Religion

Dictionnary of Northern Mythology

The Prose and Poetic Eddas (online)

Grottasöngr: The Song of Grotti (online)

The Poetic Edda: Stories of the Norse Gods and Heroes

The Wanderer's Hávamál

The Song of Beowulf

Rauðúlfs Þáttr

The Penguin Book of Norse Myths: Gods of the Vikings (Kevin Crossley-Holland's are my favorite retellings)

Myths of the Norsemen From the Eddas and the Sagas (online) A source that's as old as the world, but still very complete and an interesting read.

The Elder Eddas of Saemung Sigfusson

Pocket Hávamál

Myths of the Pagan North: Gods of the Norsemen

Lore of the Vanir: A Brief Overview of the Vanir Gods

Anglo-Saxon and Norse Poems

Gods of the Ancient Northmen

Gods of the Ancient Northmen (online)

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr (online)

Sagas

Two Sagas of Mythical Heroes: Hervor and Heidrek & Hrólf Kraki and His Champions (compiling the Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks and the Hrólfs saga kraka)

Icelandic Saga Database (website)

The Saga of the Jómsvíkings

The Heimskringla or the Chronicle of the Kings of Norway (online)

Stories and Ballads of the Far Past: Icelandic and Faroese

Heimskringla: History of the Kings of Norway

The Saga of the Volsungs: With the Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok

The Saga of the Volsungs (online) Interesting analysis, but this is another pretty old source.

The Story of the Volsungs (online) Morris and Magnusson translation

The Vinland Sagas

Hákon the Good's Saga (online)

History of religious practices

The Viking Way: Magic and Mind in Late Iron Age Scandinavia

Nordic Religions in the Viking Age

Agricola and Germania Tacitus' account of religion in nordic countries

Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe: Early Scandinavian and Celtic Religions

Tacitus on Germany (online)

Scandinavia and the Viking Age

Viking Age Iceland

Landnámabók: Book of the Settlement of Iceland (online)

The Age of the Vikings

Gesta Danorum: The Danish History (Books I-IX)

The Sea Wolves: a History of the Vikings

The Viking World

Guta Lag: The Law of the Gotlanders (online)

The Pre-Christian Religions of the North This is a four-volume series I haven't read yet, but that I wish to acquire soon! It's the next research read I have planned.

Old Norse Folklore: Tradition, Innovation, and Performance in Medieval Scandinavia

Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings

The Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings by John Haywood

Landnámabók: Viking Settlers and Their Customs in Iceland

Nordic Tales: Folktales from Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland and Denmark For a little literary break from all the serious research! The stories are told in a way that can sometimes get repetitive, but it makes it easier to notice recurring patterns and themes within Scandinavian oral tradition.

Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Short Introduction

Saga Form, Oral Prehistory, and the Icelandic Social Context

An Early Meal: A Viking Age Cookbook and Culinary Oddyssey

Runes & Old Norse language

Uppland region runestones and their translations

Viking Language 1: Learn Old Norse, Runes, and Icelandic Sagas and Viking Language 2: The Old Norse Reader

Catalogue of the Manks Crosses with Runic Inscriptions

Old Norse - Old Icelandic: Concise Introduction to the Language of the Sagas

A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture

Nordic Runes: Understanding, Casting, and Interpreting the Ancient Viking Oracle 

YouTube channels

Ocean Keltoi

Arith Härger

Old Halfdan

Jackson Crawford

Wolf the Red

Sigurboði Grétarsson

Grimfrost

(Reminder! The channel "The Wisdom of Odin", aka Jacob Toddson, is a known supporter of pseudo scientific theories and of the AFA, a folkist and white-supremacist organization, and he's been known to hold cult-like, dangerous rituals, as well as to use his UPG as truth and to ask for his followers to provide money for his building some kind of "real life viking hall", as supposedly asked to him by Óðinn himself. A source to avoid. But more on that here.)

Websites

The Troth

Norse Mythology for Smart People

Voluspa.org

Icelandic Saga Database

Skaldic Project

Life in Norway This is more of a tourist's ressources, but I find they publish loads of fascinating articles pertaining to Norway's history and its traditions.

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore: Names Written In Drow Script

So... I was wondering how drow names from BG3 would look like written in drow script - because hey, surely there is one, right?

Apparently (but please correct me if I am wrong) there is no official drow script because for some odd reason, drow in DnD universe are supposed to use elvish script called Espruar. You can stumble across this script in some places in game, for example, some of the posters from Act 3 have text written in Espruar. It looks like this:

But I was not satisfied with this - I mean, seriously, drow using a surface elven alphabet? 🤔 - and after a bit of searching, I found some not-exactly-canon, but cool alternatives.

The first one is 3e Espruar script, a redesigned Espruar alphabet that is no longer used in the newest edition of DnD. It is elegant and looks pleasantly elven. The second one is High Drowic script, a redesigned 3e Espruar with a touch of Abyssal and more runic design. High drow language was supposed to be used mainly by priestesses (for ritual purposes) and among nobles.

Below some examples - 3e Espruar / High Drowic variants:

There is also another script, known simply as Drow script, that has two versions: rounded and angular. This script looks a bit chaotic, as if somebody gathered letters into a jar and shook them before writing them down - I also like it:

Espruar font and High Drowic font are by Neale Davidson. Drow font is by Daniel U. Thibault.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi 👋🏻 are you taking requests for the creators child AU.

Could the child be Alhaitham's or maybe Diluc's.

Thank you

The creator had

Such a smart child

WC: ~900

This feels more like a collection of head cannons but enjoy!

I believe Nahida would be able to dull the hit to the archons enough for them to not have a public outbreak like in other scenarios, so most of the gossip around is from people of sumeru.

“Stop speaking like that of the acting great sage! The matra will get you punished if they hear you talking like that”

“I'm not claiming anything! I'm just saying it's weird how much time he spent around them”

“They were reviewing the structure of the akademiya”

“Sure, and my wife and I were just studying so many years ago”

“Profesor…”

"that is why my daughter was finishing highschool when we both published our thesis. We were 38 but you get the point"

"professor please... Stop..."

It has been a running rumor for a few months, but nobody really believes it, the stone faced great sage and their welcoming grace? No, never, impossible. There are scholars attempting to refute it but their attempts are short-lived as a few months later you settle back in sumeru, and your lazyly hanging robe you wear now is pushed slightly forward around the abdomen, just enough for it to be an untold fact.

“Why am I returning? I guess it just felt right, given everything” slowly after the theory took traction.

On the later months the baby gets calm whenever he is read books, the kicking stopping for as long as anyone recited paragraphs of dense knowledge, it was a common occurrence for you to tag along thesis defenses, something that professors enjoyed the opportunity of chat you up and students suddenly put delays because of sickness on masse.

“I wonder why they are all so nervous to defend their statement! I don't even ask them questions for them to be scared of me!”

“I think regardless of what you did or didn't do any of them would be at ease”

“And I heard they sit through thesis defenses and lectures because the child is calm hearing long speeches”

“I heard that too! I even heard that once they summoned one of the great sages to read a book so they could fall asleep”

“Really! Could it be…” the teen girl looks at her friend mischievously “great sage al haitham?” Making her friend look away feigning not knowing.

°•°

“I'm extremely sorry for calling you so late, Haitham” you lay on your bed, back flush against the wall. The covers on your lap make little to cover the almost watermelon sized bump “I attempted to read to see if he calmed down on his own but when I stop he starts kicking up a storm”

Alhaitham drags your vanity stool to your bedside, a soft creaking sound coming from the friction between the woods. He just hums as he skims the bookshelf “don't fret so much, it's only natural for me to do this” his fingers dance softly caressing the spines of various books ranging from Inazuma novellas to published investigation on bird care “what has been working best? Early language dictionary? Transcripts of old manuscripts?”

“alchemical botany has been doing alright”

“great, it's coming out to be a spantamad or amurta. I'm sure Tighnari and Cyno will be elated with the news” he rolls his eyes and pulls out a leather bound book with vine engraving.

“Aww, is someone jealous?”

“I'm just saying that something like ‘development of runic language during the last 300 years’ might be more interesting” you just snicker “weren't you attempting to sleep? Close your eyes”

You side down the pillows with a smile on your lips “fine, if you don't want to read alchemical botany why don't you use the white book?” as he glances over he read the simple title ‘weight distribution in columns depending on materials’ and sighs heavily.

“Spantamad might not be so bad.”

There is a small whisper in the last few months that the child could be meant to be one of the great sages but the matra keeps it down when someone starts with it.

When he is born Alhaitham reads to his son some of the books he kept from his parents.

The one year old is perched on his lap, leaning against one of his arms while they both look at the book, one of them reading attentively the words and explaining some concepts while the other is attempting to fall asleep.

“I doubt he is truly listening to you”

“You would be surprised by how much the biology faculty showed children can learn before school”

“I believe they meant before the 5 years mark, not 6 months”

Maybe even wants you to do something similar, it could be an essay, thesis or even storybook but he would want it to have some banter between you two or little comments like “it's good that you remembered to spell correctly postganglionic fibers, I don't have to correct you anymore”

He uses kaveh as an underpaid nanny just plopping the toddler on his lap and leaving without saying a word. He does stop when his son's drawings start to feature more houses and structures than people.

“Are we sure he is mine?”

“For the sixth time, yes. He is a carbon copy of you”

When your baby grows he is the smartest of his class, reciting everything his father read to him since before his birth, even if he refuses to acknowledge it al haitham is really proud of his son and his little shelf with math Olympics medals or the certificate he got from the first place in a writing competition.

Even then the moment your son turns 18 and has to decide what branch he wants to go into is the hardest week of his life, dreading the possibility of another architect in his life. He is quite happy when he choses spantamad, even if he would have like him to go for haravatat.

[comicaurora]

In your asks and other outside-of-comic statements, you seem to draw on parallels to programming a lot when talking about lacrimas.

And this makes me think as a programmer: the primordial rules that are used in Auroras to do magic and lacrimas are part of the primordial language. You are literally telling the primordial's dead bodies what to do, and they obey.

Yet, the difference that comes to my mind is that Primordial was at one point a language actually spoken. Used to communicate in day-to-day life by normal sentient beings. That's quite different from programming languages, which aren't meant to be talked in at all, and are built from the ground up purely to convey a series of precise instructions. They're very formalised and structured. There are no synonyms, no double meanings, no altering of word order, no redundant information etc. It's extremely rigid, much unlike languages people actually talk in, for which a degree of fluidity and ambiguity is essential.

And in Aurora it would seem the latter is being used as the former.

Have you ever thought about this tension/contradiction/conflict? How it affects the world, how it affects your writing, etc?

Or has this distinction never crossed your mind?

Or was this something you have noticed, but never really had the right knowledge to engage with much?

Or any other thoughts on the subject, really

So! This is an interesting thing I have actually thought about.

When the Elder Races were first created, they were born knowing and speaking a language innovatively called the First Language. Every new Young Race is also initially created speaking this language. The language then drifts over the generations, developing into regional dialects and then into separate linguistic descendants if given enough time.

The Ancients spoke a close descendent of the First Language for most of their time in existence, and made a writing system of their own very early on, which has no innate power. But in the early days of the world, the generally accepted story is that a god granted the three elder races knowledge of the written Runic language, which could command the elements. The Ancients acquired it late and used it very sparingly, only for the programming of lacrimas, but for the Elves and Humans living in the depths of the Caves, this was their first and primary writing system. It's even possible that a rare cave-dweller brave enough to venture to the surface was the one who taught the Ancients these runes in the first place.

It's posed an obvious question, of course. Why does this one specific form of writing manifest as a language of magic? Why can it command the dead Primordials? Why is it so well-suited to the phonemes of the First Language that every child of this world is created speaking?

The predominant theory - and, with two living primordials to check with, one which is potentially on the cusp of being proven - is that the First Language and its runic writing system are the language that the Primordials spoke. Its words, written or spoken, can be understood by the remnants of thought that still linger in the sleeping, dead-but-not-entirely-gone primordials that make up the world.

Primordial magic is different from programming in one key way: real computers are entirely unthinking entities. They are not in any way smart - not even smart enough to be stupid. A computer parsing a program cannot observe a missing parentheses and compensate like a human could do in their sleep - it simply fails to parse, because the mathematics don't work out.

Magic in this world is like what every programmer wishes programming could be. Tell the computer what to do, and it might be a little confused, but it'll get the gist. Tell Fire to burn in this direction - Fire, even if it's just running on an echo of a seven-thousand-year-old memory, knows what that means. Tell the wind to printf this statement to this recipient, it'll try to find them and send the message. Tell Life to make this body do what it's doing faster, it can do that. It's simple executions of simple commands, almost reflexive - things that require no complex higher thought from a being that is no longer alive enough to have them. They're not as unthinking as computers, and that means the nuances of language can actually have an effect on them. Some mages think more poetic and emotionally-charged spell invocations can lead to better, more efficient results - an appeal to a long-dead emotion might be easier for the Primordial to execute than an appeal to a half-forgotten complex thought.

When a mage takes direct control of a magical energy and funnels it into an elemental effect, their own higher thought allows the element to do more complicated things - Fire can't transmute on its own like it could when it was alive, but it can when bent to a mortal will. No need to translate a spell into the language of magic when the mage can simply use their own mind to shape the effect. This is the primary advantage mages have over lacrima-users - flexibility, complexity, and speed.

Another interesting factor. Alinua's dynamic with Life demonstrates what a living Primordial's living thought can do when in the hands of a mortal. A normal, simple healing spell cast by anybody but her just accelerates a body's own healing, but with Alinua's guidance steadying Life's hand, they can do much more complicated things of her own free will - things Life knows how to do that no mage knows how to command her to do.

[mandomaterial]

Yo I got something! How ea tonowari x reader x Ronal? Let's saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay after 1-2 years after the war, a human goes to visit the sully family (for whatever reason) and the leaders saw her being covered in tattoos but are vastly different and are immediately intrigued by her. I'm going through a viking phase and I saw theirs tattoo designs and I'm like AAAAAAAAAHHH THEY LOOK SEXY!!!

Familiar Markings

Ask and you shall receive, boo~ I got a little carried away here… it’s 2.6k… but that’s fine! :3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- It had been all too long. You were there every step of the way and you missed them dearly. What were their lives like now? Were they all okay? Those were the questions you asked yourself almost daily. So you made up your mind and decided to visit them. You were a pilot, so transportation posed no problem but still, you asked Norm what he thought about your idea. After all, you couldn’t just show up there out of the blue (pun intended).

- Norm was a little hesitant at first but saw no big problem with visiting, so the two of you decided to give Jake a heads up to not cause a mass panic when you arrived. And then you were on your way.

- You got in your trusty old helicopter and off you were! It was a pretty long flight, so you had enough time to think about what to do when you got there. The only exciting news that you had was your new tattoo. You got it done a few months ago, on your left upper arm, a nice addition to the little collection you’d accumulated over the years.

- You’d always wanted to get tattoos but you never felt like you had a real reason to. To you, it was more than just body art, it was more of a sign of accomplishment or life-changing events. So when you joined the avatar program you decided that was the perfect occasion for your first tattoo. With the help of Grace and her team, you chose a relatively simple design of an Atokarina. You’d seen one in real life when you accompanied Grace to her school and accidentally got lost. It led you back and you were in total awe.

- This time around you chose a runic design. Back on earth, you were a real fan of the complex runic language and you tried your best to learn it. If you hadn’t ultimately decided to join the Pandora project, you probably would have studied them for the rest of your life. Sadly, over the years you lost touch with your love for runes, and most of your knowledge of them faded into a blur. It made you quite sad because you felt like you lost a piece of yourself, so you decided that you’d get something of your passion engraved on your body.

- Soon enough, the islands that formed Awa'atlu came into view and you shoved your thoughts aside, preparing for landing. There were already Na’vi gathering around your planned landing spot, so you had to be extra careful. You stuck the landing with ease and as soon as you stepped foot out of the aircraft, you spotted familiar figures. The little Sully’s! Well maybe not that little anymore, even Tuk was taller than you now. “Auntieee!” the young girl yelled as she rushed to tackle you.

- you could barely keep yourself on your feet as she wrapped her arms around you and gave you a bear hug. Of course, you hugged her back but as you looked over her shoulder, you saw two new faces approach. The others moved aside for them so you assumed that was the leader and the Tsahìk. You gently wiggled out of Tuk’s grip and got ready to face them.

- At first no one said anything, all of them staring at you with blown wide, turquoise eyes. You assumed that it was just because you were a human, significantly smaller, and even a different color! But that wasn’t it, they were staring at the markings on your skin. They seemed way too unnatural to just be born with, they’d never seen a human with markings similar to their people’s tattoos. So of course they were intrigued.

- after only a few seconds of motionless silence Ronal, the Tsahìk stepped forward and started to circle you. She wanted to take a closer look at these newfound markings, were these similar to her own? You just stood still and let her do her thing, avoiding eye contact with the chilling Tsahìk of the Metkayina. To be honest, you were a little afraid, Norm had told you that she was very protective of her people and was very unwelcoming towards outsiders, so when she suddenly grabbed your arm, you winced and visibly shrunk together, trying to make ourself seem even less threatening even if they didn’t even consider you being something even close to a threat.

- Ronal pulled your arm up, almost lifting you, to inspect the strange marks. As she traced them with her hand you wondered what she thought of them. Did she with ink they were weird. Did she like them? Why was she looking for so long? Didn’t her people also have tattoos? Your thoughts were cut short abruptly as she ran her fingers over your new tattoo, even if it seemed healed, it wasn’t and you almost doubled over at the pain if she weren’t holding you by your arm.

- Of course the well-trained Tsahìk noticed this and instantly a small wave of regret and guilt washed over her. She hadn’t meant to physically hurt you, maybe intimidate you a little but not like this. She saw your eyes water a little, as you tried to calm down and not let yourself cry in front of the crowd. She gently loosened her grip on you, making sure that you were stable on your feet before ultimately letting go. Right after you gently rubbed over your arm, trying to make the pain go away but it only helped a little.

- in Ronal’s mind she had hurt you, so it was her responsibility to make you feel better again. She crouched down a little, making eye contact with you before she asked “Do you understand our language?” Of course, you understood, but you were still a little shaky so the only thing you could muster was a timid nod. The tall woman let out a little huff as she gently placed her large hand between your shoulders and gave you a little nudge. You didn’t know what was going on so you just took a step forward, your attention shifted to the little crowd that was still lingering around you. The chief seemed to be looking at his mate, making a few facial expressions. It was as if they were communicating just by looking at each other. Before they even finished, you felt the hand gently push you along, guiding you along the path that the people cleared for the two of you.

- soon enough you understood that the Tsahìk was leading you somewhere, you were quite curious and it was just the two of you so you asked: “Where are we going?” Ronal almost seemed surprised when you spoke in her language, she understood every word and you were very fluent, albeit you had a bit of an accent. It took her a moment to reply but she explained that the was taking you to her hut, but she didn’t explain why. All in all, she was a little embarrassed so she chose not to share the reason.

- Once you finally reached the large tent she carefully held open the flap and motioned for you to get in. You followed her instructions and awkwardly stood in the middle of it, waiting for her to do or say something. And do something she did. She strode over to a few baskets in a corner, kneeled down in front of them, and started looking through them. Soon enough she pulled out a little packet that was trapped in a large dried leaf.

- “Come closer” she murmured. You shuffled over and stood in front of her. Even then she was taller than you. “Sit” came out of her mouth as she stared at you with wide glossy eyes. You shifted your body into a kneeling position but kept your eyes fixed on hers. She let out a little hum and started unwrapping the packet. Inside was a generous amount of powder that shimmered and glimmered, setting it down she turned around again grabbing something from a different basket. It was a little mortar and pestle made out of what seemed like shaved-down corrals. She put a small amount of the powder into the mortar before she added a light blue liquid that she took out along with the powder. She mixed the two together for a good minute and then looked at you again.

- For a second you just blankly stared at each other before she quietly questioned “Your arm?” Whilst tilting her head a little. “Oh..” you replied while warmth flushed your cheeks. You didn’t quite know why you were embarrassed, maybe it was that there was this gorgeous tall blue woman in front of you, or that you’d never been treated like this before. Normally everyone was a little intimidated by because of your tattoos and chose to avoid you instead of getting to know you.

- Embarrassed you lifted your arm and shifted so that she faced your side and had better access to your upper arm. Seeing this, Ronal had to crack a smile, you were so good at following instructions, not at all Ike the other humans she encountered, she liked you, you were okay, she thought while she started spreading the paste over the inflamed area of your arm. You winced a little any time her fringes brushed over your skin, so she tried to be as gentle as possible, so as not to make you feel more pain than you had to.

- just then someone entered the tenant, you were curious, you sneakily turned your head and saw that the Olo’eyktan had entered. Of course, you wanted to show respect, so you started standing up but Ronal had something other in mind. She gave your lower arm a little tug that pulled you back to the floor instantly “I said sit.“ you were utterly surprised and your head whipped around between the two, not knowing what to do, he was the leader so you had to show him respect but his wife who was also a leader wouldn’t let you? You started getting dizzy and hyperventilating a little before Tonowari took a couple of steps forward and lowered himself to one knee saying “Mawey” with a stern tone, staring directly at your eyes.

- While you were distracted by Tonowari, Ronal quickly finished bandaging your arm, thinking about your markings. Why did you have them? How did you get them? To say it simply she was just too curious so she gave you a light tap on the shoulder pulling your attention to her. “Why do you have these markings?” She asked motioning to your arm.

- you were a little surprised but cleared your throat and said “I got them when I accomplished something. I think that it’s similar to why you get tattoos…” Ronal let out a little hum, satisfied with your response. Soon enough she let you go and sent her mate to show you where you’d be staying. Conveniently, you were staying in a hut that was close to theirs. Tonowari knew from just watching his mate interact with you, that she had a special interest in you and to be honest he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something special about you. So he decided to keep an eye on you, just to see what you’d do here in his village.

- The next day, you decided to go see what the Sully’s were doing, after all, that was the actual reason that you came. As soon as you entered their home, you were tackled by Tuk again. “AUNNTTTIIEEE” she yelled in a high-pitched voice. You giggled and hugged her back. The other members of the Family all stopped doing whatever it was that they were doing to come and greet you.

- Jake offered you his hand to pull you up from the floor and you gladly grasped it, giving him a bro hug right after. “How are you Jakie?“ you jokingly asked with a grin on your face. “Well- I'm doing ‘aight.” He replied while giving you a head pat. When he was still part of the avatar program you were like the whole department’s kid. You were a highly skilled pilot and that with just being barely an adult, so everyone mostly treated you like a little sibling once they got to know you. More often than not, Jake had to physically hold you back from doing something dangerous or stupid, like testing the new flying gear by doing aerial stunts. The two of you had grown close over time and he saw you as his little sister, so he was more than ecstatic when he heard that you were going to come over for a visit.

- Next you walked over to Neytiri and gave her a loose hug “Hey, where are my other niece and the two troublemakers?” you questioned jokingly. “It’s good to see you as well.” she smiled “I think they’re out in the reef.” As soon as those words left her mouth Tuk yelled “Oh- I can take you to them! C’mon!” she started jumping around, motioning for you to follow her “I'll show you my Ilu!!” You laughed a little before stepping out and following the young girl.

- Soon enough you were out in the reef playing and hanging out with your nieces and nephews and just a short while after a few other kids show up as well. They’re all interested in you, they don’t seem to be afraid at all! Even the adults of the clan didn’t seem to be reserved about you. Maybe it was that you also had tattoos? You knew that these people had to earn their tattoos and that it was how they earned their respect in the clan. Maybe that’s why they respected you.

- what you didn’t know though, was that two pairs of eyes were fixated on you. The two stood near the shore and watched you play and interact with the young clan members, not a worry in their minds, they were clearly both intrigued and they both knew it. The two shared a look, making their intentions clear to one another, they liked you and wanted you around. They just didn’t know how to get you to stay.

- That’s how it started. Soon you were a regular visitor and almost even a honorary clan member. Every time your visits got longer and longer and the time you weren’t there shorter and shorter.

- one time, Tonowari asked you if you wanted to try riding an Ilu, and of course, you said yes! So the two of you trotted to the beach and he called for one. It was a pretty Ilu and very friendly. It came close and snuggled its face to yours as you giggled. Tonowari could barely hold it together cause of your cuteness! He gently held the Ilu and bonded with it, getting on and offering you his hand. You placed your hand in his as he pulled you in front of him, securing you on the Ilu.

- The Ilu began swimming and you felt the water rush past your legs as they dangled off the sides. You dipped your fingertips in the water and couldn’t stop your smile from growing as a bit of sea foam got stuck. Tonowari was utterly happy when he got to share time with you, so he made sure to give you lots of rides, even on his tsurak!

- the two of them enjoyed spending time with you and showing you their ways and it filled them with nothing but happiness when you showed so much interest in their way of life. You even had your own hut that they kept neat for whenever you came to visit, it was your home away from home but lately, it seemed that it was the other way around, that the Forrest was your second home and the sea your first, along with the people you treasured most.

[sapphoismymuse]

"linguistics is my passion!! i love languages!!"

what do you mean there are multiple different runic systems. what do you mean the runes in The Hobbit are completely different from the runes in Lotr. what do you mean i have to learn a completely different runic system now.