#Leap and Soar Event

[animeweeb115]

[sefarlen]

This is an AU I’ve had in mind for a long time. but It’s just a small idea without much detail.

Enjoy !! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+✨

When Ballister gave up on proving himself and was overwhelmed with guilt toward Nimona, he decided to abandon the Institute and everything he once believed in.

From the final scene in the movie—on Gloreth's sword, Ballister held Nimona in his arms. The two looked at each other before Ballister said, “Let’s get out of here together.” His voice echoed throughout the kingdom, and the entire event was broadcasted on a giant monitor.

Meanwhile, miles away on the other side of the wall, Goldenloin stood frozen in disbelief at what he had just heard. Suddenly, a bright pink light illuminated the sky, transforming into a massive phoenix that soared from the heart of the kingdom into the vast world beyond the wall. The villain and the monster had disappeared forever.

Ambrosius screamed, nearly leaping off the rooftop to follow, but a few knights held him back. He could only watch as the pink light faded, and his heart slowly sank into the darkness.

Five years later…

Ambrosius and a group of knights were assigned a mission to explore beyond the wall—to confirm whether the monster and the Queen’s killer were still alive and, if so, eliminate them.

Their airship expedition lasted several days without any sign of the monster. Eventually, they decided to stop and rest near a riverbank.

Ambrosius and three or four knights (including Todd) walked along the river, only to spot a young boy sitting on the opposite bank, swinging his feet in the water. They decided to approach him. The closer they got, the clearer they could see his face—until the child finally noticed them.

The small face turned toward the strangers with curiosity. But what shocked Ambrosius the most was…

This boy looked almost exactly like him.

....

Yay! That’s all! Hehehe.

I love every AU on AO3 where the events take place outside the wall, and that’s how this idea came to me. I want my little boy to grow up beyond the wall, in a vast world alongside and Nimona can transform freely, in a small village where people love and accept her.

And cute little idea—where the entire village respects Ballister and adores his little son, though they still wonder about the boy’s other father. But Ballister only tells them that he's somewhere far away, and they'll probably never meet again.

Then, one day, Ambrosius walks into the village, carrying his son in his arms—both of them looking exactly the same. LOL. They knew without having to ask.

......

I once thought about making a comic, but with my limited energy, tons of work, and almost nonexistent writing skills, I ended up keeping this idea to myself.

_(;3 JL)__

[milkbobatyun]

a flightless dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: you thought you could be free, spread your wings and fly. but flight, it isn't inherit for all birds.

word count: 350

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear, injury, slight quest spoilers (?)

a/n: this was inspired by the 'beauty and destruction' quest, if it isn't obvious enough, i haven't done it, but i've heard voicelines from a playlist i listen to.

what a foolish little dove you were. you thought that your best behaviour and candied words could exchange you the freedom you had wanted. an extra blanket for the cold night, a new book, some more water, all sorted with the clear ring of a bell and good behaviour.

it had taken you a week of good behaviour and light treading, before sunday relented. after all, a bird with clipped wings couldn’t fly, so what harm was there in letting you go out onto the balcony?

what a silly little dove you had been, thinking you could escape from sunday’s clutches by jumping from the balcony.

you gathered up all your courage, choosing a moment when you knew the servants wouldn’t enter. this was it—your leap to freedom.

your body was weightless, a bird soaring into the sky, the wind whipping against your face as the ground rushed to meet you.

then it hit. a sickening crack. the sharp, searing pain tore through your legs, radiating from your ankles. the pain was blinding, tears prickling at your eyes as you curled in upon yourself.

the toes of a pair of well-polished black leather shoes tapped into your eyesight.

“little dove,” sunday’s voice purred, a dangerous edge in his voice. “what were you thinking?”

that was the last thing you remembered, before the pain and darkness consumed you.

when you awoke again, you were lying on the soft mattress of your confines. the pain in your ankle was agony, bright and hot, bringing tears to your eyes. sunday sat on the bed beside you, lovingly stroking your hair.

“shhh…” he comforted, his gloved thumb wiping at your tears. “don’t cry, little dove.”

he leans down, brushing your hair aside and leaving a kiss on your forehead. another, against your cheek.

“you can’t leave, little dove.” sunday whispered, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. “you’ll live here, with me, forever.”

the fall had shattered the dove’s wings, robbing it of its freedom. you writhed, helpless and powerless in your gilded cage, all your fight, all your efforts, it was for naught. you would never escape his clutches.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[thebroccolination]

GMMTV’S “SNEAKY” MARKETING

I’ve never really looked closely at those trending posts GMMTV puts out but something about the design of the one for “Leap Day” amused me, so I wanted to break it down for fun.

Since GMMTV is a management company, they have to regularly promote their artists—and by proxy the series they’re in—to potential advertisers. According to Tha, they used to do this by showing advertisers the TV ratings and viewing numbers for a series, but times have changed, and now advertisers are asking for Online Engagement Numbers. Trends, especially.

So, check this out with me:

(This isn’t to pick on “Leap Day,” it’s just the post that caught my attention.)

The top numbers are Twitter trends for the hashtag #LeapDaySeries. That’s common, and I’ve seen that before.

What amuses me is that “2.6M+ views in 24 hours” bit, because that made me go, “Whoa, really?” I know GMMTV series tend not to get 1M+ views on YouTube overnight, so I went to check.

192k views is not 2.6M+ views.

So you read the fine print beneath the giant red numbers:

2.6M+

FROM ALL ONLINE PLATFORMS COMBINED

And then I thought, “Oooh, sneaky.” Because how are you counting that 2.6M+ exactly? What does “all online platforms” mean? Which platforms? Are you counting views on reposted videos also? How many views are repeat users?

It’s clever, because in all likelihood, GMMTV’s hoping all advertisers care about is the big red number and not how they got it.

Part of me wonders if they’re obfuscating the numbers because other management companies are starting to challenge them. IDOLFactory and Domundi make fewer series, but they’re starting to produce better quality series.

And just yesterday, an interview with KristSingto was released where they said they’re conscious that they’re in an era now where consumers are spoiled for choice, so they’re determined to keep the quality of what they produce as a khuujin. SOTUS might have ushered in the Thai QL wave, but they have no illusions or goal of taking the top spot again. They’re happy to create quality series for anyone who loves them.

Of course, GMMTV is under Grammy, which is a massive corporation that gives them a good deal of resources and clout, but they nearly went bankrupt once (only rescued by SOTUS), so they’re not invulnerable.

One of my main criticisms of GMMTV is that they’ve started churning out dozens of series in the apparent hope that one or two will be a viral hit, but the quality overall of what they create has dropped, and I hear more and more international fans starting to equate GMMTV with poor quality series. Personally, I only ever see about three pilot teasers with promise from any given GMMTV showcase, and of those three, maybe two of them will follow through on their potential.

It’s all about the bottom line, but there’s more than one way to get there. GMMTV’s seems to be mass series production, top spender events, merchandise, and online platform subscriptions. Which makes for good business, but not so great for the quality of their series’ storytelling, directing, acting, visuals, sound, etc.

There will always be plenty of viewers who want the eye candy first and queer representation second (if at all), so GMMTV doesn’t necessarily need high quality series. If they throw two half-naked men onscreen and have them sell a bit of sunscreen or a printer, the trends will soar.

Since GMMTV is just the management side, the quality of their actors’ series is down to the actual production teams. Like I love to say, Waa knew “Be My Favorite” wasn’t going to soar in the trends, but it was a passion project for him, so he and his writing team took their time with it. As a result, BMF is one of the best series I’ve seen from GMMTV. But, in the year and change since BMF aired, you almost never hear about it.

That’s because, presumably, there’s no benefit to GMMTV acknowledging a series starring a pair who aren’t an official khuujin with merchandise and events. Even though it’s an incredible series on every measurable scale, “Be My Favorite” isn’t GMMTV’s success: it’s the production team’s. I used to be annoyed with GMMTV for essentially pretending it doesn’t exist, but I just had to remind myself over and over that they’re a management company, not a studio. Krist is already in their most legendary khuujin, so it benefits them to pretend the blip where he worked with someone else never happened. I get it.

But also, watch “Be My Favorite” because Waa is an incredible director and he really outdid himself with it.

Aaanyway, I guess I just wanted to ramble about the business side of BL for a bit.

Bye!

[mewwccury]

the first time

pairing: ishigami senku x oc

words: it's quite long

genre/s: fluff

warning/s: nerd x athlete trope

synopsis: his first times with you

the first time he laid eyes on her was at a school event.

sports matches really weren't senku's thing. he preferred to stay locked up in the school's science lab, working on yet another potion or concoction. unfortunately, if he ever tried to escape to his lab, taiju and yuzuriha would likely drag him back to the gym bleachers to watch a quick volleyball match. but if taiju was playing, he might stick around for a bit. he's a good friend.

his curiosity was ignited upon glimpsing a girl in a volleyball match. with lustrous silver hair, impeccably arranged into a sleek ponytail. at the same time, an elastic headband gracefully held her bangs in place, allowing her striking features to emerge unobscured. she was in an alert stance, ready to receive the ball at any moment.

he was on the verge of brushing off his curiosity, ready to head down to grab a soda from the nearest vending machine. but just as he was about to move, he paused. In that moment, you stepped back and, as if defying gravity, leaped into the air. you spiked the ball with a powerful flourish, sending it soaring across the court before your opponents could even think to react.

he was left speechless. these things shouldn't have captured his interest, so what was different about you? was it the way your muscles tensed as you ran to jump, almost seeming to soar above the net as if you were glancing across the horizon? the sight of your hair swaying, sweat trickling down the side of your forehead, brows furrowed in concentration, knees bent in readiness to leap—was it the way your face radiated focus while also embodying pure joy? your lips pursed as you calculated the timing, the force needed, and the best angle to spike the ball.

he observed you as a radiant smile spread across your face, celebrating the victory of earning another point for your team. “it’s just one point, what’s all the fuss about?” he pondered. It seemed a little ridiculous how you sparkled with delight, huddling with your teammates to cheer loudly, shouting “team!” before hurriedly returning to your positions.

it made him want to stay a little longer, his eyes ever so lingering with your sculpture.

soon enough, the match ended with your team claiming the trophy, gaining you the title of MVP. he smirked unconsciously, rising from his seat and heading back to the lab, lengthy strides as he quickened his pace, oblivious to the fact that he was blushing at the thought of you.

the first time she laid eyes on him was during the science fest.

science was never really kirara's thing. sure, it can be interesting to learn about anatomy, cells, or chemistry, but sometimes it just drags on. listening to her teacher go on and on about eukaryotic cells and their purposes often made her wish she could just teleport back to her cozy bed, snuggled under her heavy comforter, feeling all warm and comfortable.

to be honest, kirara was mainly here just to mark her attendance. she was also drawn in by the food stalls set up by the other grades as part of their immersive projects.

out of nowhere, a mini rocket launched into the atmosphere, its thrusters emitting small bursts of flames as it soared toward the endless blue sky. it gradually shrank into the distance, and curiosity sparked within her about its origin. eager to find out more, kirara rushed to the spot where it had been projected.

she discovered him quickly—a boy with striking white hair, accented by vibrant green tips that created a stunning ombre effect. he gazed thoughtfully at the sky, a sense of pride evident in his demeanor. kirara's attention was captivated by how his ruby eyes sparkled in the golden sunlight, and the way he stood with his hands confidently resting on his hips, a broad grin illuminating his face.

he glanced at the crowd gathered in front of him, the sound of loud applause resonating from every direction for his experiment. when his eyes briefly met hers, it felt like sparks flew through the air. her heart raced, and a light shade of red flushed her cheeks, the gentle breeze causing her hair to sway. in that moment, it was as if she was utterly charmed.

"he looks stunning."

the first time they interacted, they were both late.

kirara sped through the halls of her high school, her gear bag slung over her shoulder, a volleyball locked between her arm and her waist, and her kneepads secure in her hands.

she checks her watch, gasping at the clock ticking past 8:58.

"shit!" she cursed within her mind, fastening her pace.

senku was also running late. he stayed up late for another one of his research that he forgot to set an alarm, causing his unusual tardiness.

he sprinted through the corridors, clutching the printed bond papers brimming with evidence for his impending research defense in one hand, while the other gripped his backpack and lab coat tightly.

he was just about to take a sharp turn when he suddenly collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. in that instant, he released the items he had been holding tightly. his hands instinctively pressed against the floor for support, sending papers scattering in all directions.

he opens his eyes and catches sight of your alabaster hair. your arms stood beside him, caging his position below you. you both heaved heavy breaths, your sapphire irises locking with his ruby ones.

you were on top of him.

you backed away, clearly flustered with the encounter. your things seemed to have been scattered across the corridor as well, your bag half open and the ball you once held now rolling to a nearby plant pot.

"oh my gosh, i'm so sorry! i was in a rush and i didn't notice you, let me help you- oh my gosh, i'm really sorry!" you babble, quickly gathering your things.

you're pretty.

something caught senku's attention though; a practice planner filled with maps of strategic positions. it included detailed steps and measurements of time and force needed to successfully execute a good spike.

"your estimation, it's inaccurate." he points out. he picks up your planner and points out the mistakes that you clearly did not understand. you spaced out, charmed at how passionate he looked while explaining physics to you. his eyes had a faint sparkle while he rattled on.

he's cute.

[sarahghetti]

direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

[moneeb0930]

Alice Coachman: The High-Flying Trailblazer Who Made Olympic History

Alice Coachman was born to defy expectations. Growing up in Albany, Georgia, during the height of segregation, she faced barriers at every turn. Yet, with raw talent, sheer determination, and an unbreakable spirit, she soared—literally—into history as the first Black woman to win an Olympic gold medal.

From an early age, Coachman had an undeniable love for sports. But as a Black girl in the Jim Crow South, opportunities were scarce. She wasn’t allowed to use public training facilities, and societal norms discouraged women from competing in athletics. That didn’t stop her. She improvised—running barefoot on dirt roads, using homemade equipment, and practicing in open fields. Her talent couldn’t be ignored for long.

Her high jumping skills caught the attention of scouts, and she earned a scholarship to Tuskegee Institute, where she trained under legendary coach Cleve Abbott. There, she dominated collegiate track and field, winning ten consecutive national championships in the high jump and excelling in sprinting events.

The 1940 and 1944 Olympics were canceled due to World War II, delaying her chance at global recognition. But when the Games resumed in 1948, Coachman was ready. Representing the U.S. in London, she leaped 5 feet, 6 1/8 inches, setting an Olympic record and clinching gold. She became the first Black woman to stand atop the podium, a moment that shattered barriers and inspired generations.

After her victory, Coachman’s impact extended beyond athletics. She became the first Black woman to endorse a major brand (Coca-Cola) and worked to empower young athletes. Her legacy as a pioneer in sports and racial equality remains unshakable.

Alice Coachman didn’t just break records—she broke barriers, proving that no obstacle is too high to clear.

[fattummyt]

Prince Sidon/Female Hylian Reader - First Impressions - Chapter 1/? - Testing the Waters

Summary: Prince Sidon's courting is about as smooth as a Goron's back.

Tags: Zora courting, humor, fluff, slapstick humor, comedic timing, suggestive

Warnings: let's say mature. For mention of ... procreating.

Author's Notes: This one is so short but legitimately so funny every time I reread. Chapter 2 dropping soon!

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read it on AO3 here!

"Leave me alone!!" You shrieked, turning and grabbing the boomerang from your backside and flinging it his way. He ducked into the water, narrowly dodging it before continuing. "Please be careful, Hylian, the path is slick and you may—” The boomerang returned spinning around only to bounce right off of his pointed fin.

Chapter 1: Testing the Waters

"You!" The Prince called out. "Are you a Hylian?"

"Uh, yes."

"Marvelous! If I may ask—that bat you have on your back there—may I see you wield it?"

"Um, sure?"

"Terrific! Just as powerful as you are beautiful! You will be perfect!"

"For what?"

"I hope I don't appear too forward, but I would like to request that you and I return to my home at the Zora's Domain and marry so that we may procreate and birth a school of strong children that shall one day ru—" You swung your bat, striking Prince Sidon in the side, sending him toppling over and stumbling into the river.

Before he could even recognize the events that just took place, you took off running in the direction you came.

By the time Sidon resurfaced, you were well on your way down the rocky path.

"Wait! Hylia—I mean Miss Hylian!"

Your mind raced with adrenaline as you made your way down the narrow riverside path.

Suddenly out of the water leaps Sidon soaring through the air before returning underneath. 

"Please—!”

“—The Zora kingdom and I require your aid!"

"Leave me alone!!" You shrieked, turning and grabbing the boomerang from your backside and flinging it his way.

He ducked into the water, narrowly dodging it before continuing.

"Please be careful, Hylian, the path is slick and you may—” The boomerang returned spinning around only to bounce right off of his pointed fin.

You cursed yourself before taking off again as he retrieved the floating wooden weapon. "I believe you dropped your, eh... spinning toy! Hylian!"

His warning barely reached you as your foot skid awkwardly along the dull, rocky ledge, sending you tumbling head first into the water.

Read the fic on AO3! | Read more of my fics on Tumblr | Patreon | Website

[ashen-vulture]

A Vulture In Therapy (wip)

It's been a while since I've posted anything because the next pages of The Appointment are taking a while, so have a sneak peak of some planned future events in the meantime

--- THE FUTURE FLYER'S CLUB ---

"Maybe it's just because I'm going back through the hormonal teenage phase," I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror. The changes were happening, but very slowly. My body was covered in puffy white down feathers, and my skin had gone grey. The bone morphics were coming along nicely.

"I don't regret it, but there is this hollowness in me, some new need that isn't being fulfilled. Even though I have friends, a partner, a support system, I still feel so heavy and alone."

"Perhaps it would help you to meet more therians of your 'theriotype'?" The mirror said.

"You know I'm bad at meeting people..."

"~That's bullshit~ <3"

"W-"

"Middle school. You joined band even though you were afraid. You gathered a group of outcasts and made them friends. Highschool, you put together an Acapella group to perform in the talent show. You gathered more outcasts and made more friends. Online, you took risks with a bunch of strangers and made friends for life. College you opened up again and again to people you never met. You are not bad at meeting people, you're scared and one day soon you will decide you want it more than you fear it."

... I walked away from the mirror. She was right. Maybe. Maybe I needed to create my own happiness. Maybe I was ready to take the initiative. I went to my tablet and drafted my first sketch of a club poster.

"Future... Flyer's... Club. A club for bird Therians (or any winged creature) that wants to work together to teach each other how to fly. Yeah. I think this is something we need. But am I good enough to make it? I don't know."

"But you want it more than you fear it. So take the leap."

Maybe I'll print a few test copies tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring them to my check-in with Erian next month and ask if I can leave some in his office. Maybe I'll ask Madam Mabel if I can leave a couple at The Roost.

Maybe it'll start small, and maybe it'll grow from there. My flock.

Flight isn't just an instinct, it's a skill.

No mother bird to show us how.

Lets show each other.

Welcome to the Future Flyers' Club! We have Posture Practice, which is just a scaffolding with a harness rig and a large fan (it took so many extension cords to get that fan all the way out here) but hey, it'll get you used to flapping and to the soaring position!

And if your legs are feeling stable, you might try out our long jump launch! It's a bunch of haybales stacked up with some distance markers on the ground.

I've also got a tape measure in my pocket if you want to check your wingspan or tail length!

I know it's not much to look at yet, but it'll get there. Just like us!

[moonlitrogue]

(I) Juno's promise in Aries, Leo and Sagittarius

~ what their companionship feels like

Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky.” – Hafez

₊˚ʚ ♡ Juno in Aries/1h

Like dancing flames your love chases the thrill of a passionately stoked fire. Love is won, commitment is an honour they wear with pride. Their love is a lifelong commitment to adventure and authenticity. They nurture a love that's full of spontaniety and fire, years down the line. Their love is expressed through action—through showing up in moments that matter, through protecting, defending, and championing shared dreams. They have a magnetic resolve and live life with an unshakeable candor. When you walk into their life, their attention snags on your spirit like embers catching the wind. Bold, captivating, uncontained. Their craving for authenticity has led them to you. They don't wish to tame you, or contain you. They know how it feels to have your spirit soar and you feel safe in that promise. They have an uncanny instinct to tell authentic connections apart from others, so when you have their attention you just know it's the real deal. They love you without hesitation, like their every essence knows you belong with each other. You challenge each other, and while it may be get heated, any arguments had don't linger. Only a burning need to learn and grow and be moulded in the heat of this love. Expect friendly competitions that keeps your love simmering - full of shared victories and mutual growth.

❤️Juno in 1°, 13°, 25° - The type to ask you out on the first date, or move in/make big commitments quickly, needs and craves the challenges you offer them, they value action over words, a supportive partnership in which you both may be fiercely independent.

₊˚ʚ ♡ Juno in Leo/5h

You see them walk into a room, with a gait and aura that suggests they're all that matters. And then their eyes turn to you. All their life they've been told not to look at the sun directly - but the sun is a person and they bathe in your light. How could they not. Everything else is swept in the shadows of your brilliance. You make them feel things they can’t quite put into words, their heart leaps at the sight of you, beating in a rhythm only you can inspire. They are your biggest fan, your partner in crime, and the one person who’ll always have your back. They will bring a sense of playfulness, warmth and shared joy to your relationship. You are entertained by their need for attention as they express this in endearing, often playful ways that makes them irresistible. They'll hold your attention when telling you the most simplest of stories like it's a blockbuster movie, or humble brag with sparkling eyes, writing you love notes or showing up with your favourite treat and the brightest smile. Their intimacy is explored and stoked through a creative medium. One of you will be the muse for the other, or there could be a mutual tendency to draw inspiration from eo for your own individual artistic expression. Long into their companionship, life already feels like a timeless fairytale in the kingdom of love. There’s no room for doubt in their love; they want to see you shine just as brightly as they do. But it’s not just the grand gestures—it’s in the way they make you feel seen, cherished, and adored every moment. Their love feels like a spotlight on your heart ~ they love big, and they’ll remind you, every single day, that you’re worth every bit of their heart.

❤️Juno in 05°, 17°, 29° - Banter is an everyday affair, lead naturally with their charisma, expect elaborate anniversaries or serenading you at events, fiercely loyal and protective, becoming childlike in their presence or the other way round.

₊˚ʚ ♡ Juno in Sagittarius/9h

The world is full of possibilities, and they come along, wanting to explore it all. There you are, offering them infinite potential and eccentricities to explore. So, that's what they do. Explore you. Explore the world in you. Explore the world with you. Explore. Explore. The physical and metaphysical. Because the universe is so infinite, they seem to never run out of places/things to explore. As for you, you are the souvenir they've collected in this lifetime, a memento to remember and love this world by. Your rich, inner world is a universe of its own and they try to do it justice by being curious and supportive. They have a charming and infectious quality to them - turning the most mundane into comedy gold, or explaining life's mysteries with an absurdist twist. They fill the time and space between you both with endless conversations, hypotheses and ideas that keeps your partnership alive. For you both crave this exchange and expansion, it fulfills you and sustains your union. They reach out and push out the walls of the world for you - keep it exciting, vibrant and dynamic. They promise you with a lightness, offering you perspective, reminding you that there's always a way forward, and that learning from every experience is the real goal. They could lend you books on faraway places, or take you on spontaneous getaways to faraway places. (Or to the nearest lecture/workshop on a topic you love.) Expect an unconventional arrangement because they're not interested in traditional ideas of marriage or spousal roles. It's not in their nature to settle "down". They view love as something dynamic and even within such a union/marriage they'll value freedom because they trust in their partner and what they have. They're not threatened when you spend time by yourself or away from them. They value liberty and it's that mutual freedom which allows for deeper foundations in your relationship. They know you'll be back with your travel exploits, or humorous anecdotes, and the both of you will catch up by the corner bookstore, or a cozy cafe or, under the stars - a world you've made for the two of you, ever expanding, ever evolving.

❤️Juno in 09°, 21° - new cultures are introduced/explored with them, free-spirited conversations, optimistic and expansive outlook, they look on the bright side of things, their intellectual and philosophical side is prominent, could be older/experienced.

[ media/artworks are not mine; dividers by @saradika-graphics and @strangergraphics ]

[forcebewitht]

Ma Belle Evangeline (Malleus Draconia x Reader)

...This had been the most fun evening Malleus had in centuries. The enigmatic Fae prince was positively beaming out a warm smile, and the lovely individual by the name of Y/N currently walking beside him seemed to be enjoying themselves just as much. The two had spent the evening examining the school's various gargoyles and other stone-like structures for a bit of a relaxation period for them both. Lilia had to subdue Sebek's nerves and Silver's questioning all at once in order for the two to head off alone. The mysterious Vanrouge seemed to enjoy the smile that the prince got upon his pale features whenever he would be around their beautiful self and form- so, what kind of "father" would he be if he didn't help his little family along as best as he could, hmm~

Malleus strolled to a nearby tree, the moonlight utterly radiant against both of the figures cloaked in the night. His lips perked up into an all too soft smile as he allowed a hand to trail up within the high branches. Spring was in full swing- so the heavenly aroma of cherry blossoms drifted into the senses of the lovely person below. A perfectly pale pink bud is plucked from the tree above, the Fae turning his body. He smiles even more...Great Seven, the way their skin glistened in that moonlight made them look like an angel….

"...Here, my dear Y/N~" Given a motion, Malleus gently had them turn their head in his general direction. The flower is tucked behind their ear as the Draconia male hums at his work. "A perfectly soft flower to celebrate your eternally soft beauty…." Malleus smirked in an almost dopey way upon his own words, his heart nearly leaping from his chest when he hears the bright Child of Man giggle. Ahhh, his heart was all aflutter now~

...Soon, Malleus led them to a spot off to the side of a nearby creek. A little picnic area completely set up with a blanket, basket, a candle, and some glasses were all properly positioned for the arrival of the two. The Fae couldn't contain his smile at the sight of the individual's eyes lighting up like that. Such a joy. However, upon spotting their partially arched brow at the sight of the basket, Malleus laughed. "No, before you ask, Lilia did not prepare this for us~" That got an exhale of relief to release from the lips of Y/N. Thank goodness.

Malleus assisted the lovely person in order to sit upon the blanket spread out on the ground. Yeah- it took Malleus a second because, let's be honest- he's pretty tall! However, he soon was able to sit beside them on the ground. Fireflies immediately began to float up around the night sky as the two huddled together under the stars. The food is soon retrieved and placed out onto little plates- he had made cute little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Maybe that's why he kept flexing his hands every now and then. How cute! A bottle of a sparkling cider is soon retrieved and poured into their glasses. Malleus drew the sweet dear to him, now smooching the top of their forehead. They then both dig in, idly chatting away here and there and laughing into the night…

….And soon, Malleus retrieved one of the various instruments he could play- a bass. He smiles, now gently cracking his knuckles. In a sudden sweet yet swift change of events, the Fae began to sing. "Look how she lights up...the sky...ma belle...Evangeline~" His deep, soothing voice dipped in and out of each note with ease, his lips perking up into a soft smile at their own shocked reaction. "So far above me...yet I...know her heart...belongs...to only me~" Malleus soon stood up, fireflies soaring over to the bass to play it for him. He had them stand up, now singing sweetly into their ear for a moment before he began to spin them around. "You're my Queen of the night...so still...so bright...if someone as beautiful as she….could love...someone...like me? Love always finds a way….it's true...and I love you...Evangeline~"

Lilia stood behind a tree, grinning. He began to softly play a trumpet along to the beat, Silver and Sebek working together to have the cherry blossom petals fall down around the pair as they waltzed. Malleus smiled at their assistance, continuing on with his little princess/prince. "Love is beautiful...love is wonderful...love is everything….do you agree?" Y/N is hauled up into the air and lightly spun around, the prince chuckling at their cute little reaction. "...Shall we see?" Guess he couldn't pronounce that French part right. That's cute. He soon brought them back down to the ground on their feet, slowly dipping them to the floor. "Look how...she lights up...the sky. I...I love you….my Y/N~" Malleus gently tilted the head of the Child Of Man a bit as they linked their arms around his neck softly. He smiled down at their form, gently kissing them into the night as Lilia's trumpet played them out.

Cherry blossom petals scattering down all around them, the prince and the princess/fellow prince held each other in their arms into the night...for they were his Evangeline.

~End~

(Hello hello, dear Readers~! Decided to edit a little writing of mine from a while back to be readable for one and all~! I'm debating creating the 18+ blog still with writings- and I am also waiting on replies from my latest poll post, so I'd appreciate feedback~! Until next time 💕✨️)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

DAD SQUAD DAD SQUAD

(for the prompt event)

Abel swore as he ran.

That soldier, that Hero, that idiot child had wandered off, distrusting as he was, or scared or petulant or arrogant, he didn’t even know - all he knew was the Fierce Deity’s other Hero had sauntered off and the Yiga had him.

But it had just happened. Abel was not letting them get away with this.

The Yiga were too far to reach quickly, but close enough to still be seen as they hauled their prize away. The blonde Hero of Hyrule, wrapped in his green and armor and blue scarf, was bleeding from the head, carried easily on the shoulders of one of the Yiga’s massive commanders.

Rusl was hot in his trail, already trying to prepare a weapon of his, but there was no way they were in range for anything. Abel tore across the open field as quickly as he could, adrenaline and rage bringing heat to his body, fueling his legs to move at breakneck speed.

As Abel ran, he caught sight of a traveler atop a horse, and an idea immediately came to his mind. Nocking an arrow, he let it loose, aiming low. When the arrow sank into the unsuspecting traveler’s leg, he let out a yell of pain, falling off his horse.

Abel immediately took advantage of the situation, making a beeline for the steed and leaping atop its saddle, ignoring the animals’ anxious protest, and directed it to run straight for his quarry.

“Abel, what the hell are you doing!” Rusl shouted from a short distance away.

“Get him a potion!” Abel ordered sharply, not wasting another moment, tearing after the Yiga.

Rusl stumbled, breathless, kneeling down beside the poor traveler and searching hastily through his bag. “I’m so sorry, he’s—my friend’s insane.”

As the Ordonian watched his Hylian companion make chase, he pulled out a little whistle, blowing into it while the traveler choked down the potion he’d offered. A hawk cried out in reply, swooping down to land on Rusl’s arm. With a brief, whispered command, the hawk took flight once more, soaring overhead and tearing after Abel.

The Yiga were growing ever closer as Abel urged the horse to move faster. As he rode, he heard a cry from overhead, glancing up to see a brown hawk, talons hovering a short distance above his head, gliding effortlessly before it flapped its wings to speed ahead. Abel’s eyes followed it until he saw that the Yiga were getting close to the wooded area at the edge of the clearing. If they got in there, he’d lose them.

He was close enough. This would do.

With a grunt, Abel moved one of his feet out of the stirrups, planting it on the saddle so he could rise above to get a better shot and more distance. He readied an ice arrow, gritting his teeth and glaring as he let it loose.

They were not getting away this time. He would make sure of it.

The arrow didn’t hit any particular target, but the magic that it spread from the impact managed to reach the majority of the Yiga, including the one carrying this newer Link. The hawk swooped down, pecking at the Yiga as Abel finally caught up to them, leaping off the horse with his sword at the ready. He sank the blade into an unsuspected enemy as he landed, digging his foot into the Yiga’s chest to pull the blade out and swinging it across another foe. He pulled out his shield just as another Yiga tired to fire some arrows at him, protecting him while the commander rose and readied his enormous blade.

Abel managed to move just in time as the Yiga commander’s blade crashed downward, sending a powerful strike his way. The hawk swooped down once more, distracting the archer behind Abel as he charged forward, sliding to one knee as he held his shield overhead, the impact from the massive blademaster’s attack making his shoulder scream in protest. He braced with his other arm, letting out a yell and pushing himself to stand, throwing the Yiga off balance.

It gave him just enough time, and he directed his sword diagonally upward, cutting across the man’s chest. When the Yiga fell to his knees, making him and Abel nearly at eye level, it gave the former knight all the time he needed to finish the job.

The Yiga archer yelled as the hawk pecked at him again, and then he realized the fight was over as his commander’s head rolled to his feet. He vanished in a puff of magic and light, and Abel stood over the bodies a moment, catching his breath.

Link watched him, eyes wide, leaning against a tree, his arm partly frozen from the blast of the arrow, hands bound, face gagged with a cloth.

“I told you,” Abel finally said as he approached him, pulling the gag off first. “Don’t wander off.”

Link seemed like he was trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, or he was just being defensive. He let out a breath through his nose in what was probably supposed to be a huff of defiance. “The last thing I remember was being attacked by people, and then I wake up weak and ill and you’re there talking about traitors to the crown trying to kidnap the Hero. You can’t possibly expect me to trust you instantly.”

“No,” Abel supposed mildly as he cut through the boy’s bonds. “But you currently can’t defend yourself, either. You should know better. Now on your feet, soldier, and this time, listen to orders.”

Link watched him a moment longer and then obeyed, seeming to give in, looking almost ashamed. When he stumbled a bit, Abel caught him easily, pulling him a little closer, finally letting some sympathy bleed through his exhaustion and worry. The boy couldn’t be much older than his own son, and he was going through a lot.

Sighing, Abel let him sink to the ground once more, sitting beside him and letting the boy lean against him. “Link… you have to trust me, okay? I feel it’s fairly obvious who the actual threat is now. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

As he spoke, his hands worked gently away at the ice melting off the boy’s arm. He felt a slight twinge of guilt that he’d hurt him a little, but if he hadn’t he would’ve lost him, which was far worse.

Link swallowed, saying nothing, but he relaxed a little in his hold. When Abel had picked off as much of the ice as he could, he tried to help the boy stand once more. Link was more stable on his feet, clearly trying hard to pull his own weight. Abel directed him towards the horse, helping him mount, and he took the reins away from the Hero so he could direct the mount from the ground.

The pair made their way back across the field, and Rusl finally caught up to them. “Are you two alright?”

“Link will need some looking after,” Abel noted. “I’m fine.”

Link ran a hand through his hair, the streak of white glistening in the sunlight, and then he sighed. “I take it those Yiga have been attacking you two?”

“They’ve been attacking Heroes,” Rusl answered as he walked alongside the horse. “We’ve been trying to get our sons back.”

Link blinked. “Your—you—”

Abel was somewhat exasperated that Rusl just admitted that, but he supposed there was little point in hiding it. It was a natural habit, though, so he didn’t comment, letting Rusl be he personable man that he was. It eased what little tension was left in the young soldier’s posture, and when they returned to camp, the boy was listening to the Ordonian tell stories about his boy. A realization of some sort was slowly dawning across the teenager’s face, though he kept whatever epiphany he had to himself.

He still didn’t entirely trust them, perhaps. Abel wasn’t too bothered by it. He knew the boy would at least listen to him now.

As the sun set, Abel cleaned the blood of his blade, satisfied that he’d managed to eliminate some Yiga and relieved that he’d at least fulfilled his duty in protecting one Hero. With another victory against the Yiga under his belt, he was almost starting to feel…

Well. He wouldn’t say it. He hadn’t been one to hold on to such sentiment since the Calamity.

But perhaps things were finally starting to look up for them. And… perhaps… his son…

Abel sighed, putting his sword down as Rusl and Link laughed over some story or another.

[nocturnalrat]

Hihi, ik this is corny lol but could you do a fake dating scenario with 1610!miles where he uses the relationship to cover up his identity as spiderman and why he’s always gone ?

I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE SO MUCH!

Thank you for the prompt! I added some childhood friends to lovers to this :) Hope you like it!

---

Miles and you had been inseparable friends since childhood. Growing up, your families had lived in adjacent apartments, but circumstances forced your family to move to a more affordable neighborhood when you turned eight. Despite attending different schools, you remained friends throughout the years.

As fate would have it, you had come to suspect that Miles was none other than Spider-Man through your occasional encounters with the web-slinging hero. His unmistakable voice, his quirky sense of humor, and that distinctive laugh had given his true identity away.

Miles’ double life as a superhero kept him perpetually occupied. It had been a while since you had last hung out, but you were understanding of the situation. Keeping New York safe was not an easy task.

Each time you witnessed him soaring through the towering skyscrapers of the city, a smile appeared on your face. He was happy, and that was all that mattered to you.

On this particular day, as you were heading home from school, an unexpected event unfolded before your eyes. It was quite a comical sight – a shopping bag laden with groceries in Spider-Man’s hands, as if he were an ordinary citizen carrying out mundane tasks. But just as he exited the store, a car raced down the street at a dangerous speed, closely followed by a convoy of police cars.  

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the shopping bag and leaped into action, joining the chase. Amused by the relentless chaos that seemed to follow Spider-Man wherever he went, you decided to do what any loyal friend would have done: You picked up his abandoned groceries and embarked on a mission of your own – to deliver them to his parents’ apartment.

It took you quite some time until you finally arrived at your destination. The sound of a heated argument echoed from the inside of Miles’ apartment. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“¡No puedo creer que te hayas olvidado de comprar los comestibles otra vez!” His mother’s voice rang out, filled with frustration.  

“Lo siento,” you heard Miles’ voice reply. “I just – I got distracted, and then forgot about the food entirely!”

“Distracted by what?” His dad sounded equally irritated. “You had one job!”

Technically, the poor kid has multiple responsibilities, you thought. That’s when you decided to step in and save the day. You knocked on the door, determined to help.  

The conversation abruptly fell silent. Miles opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment when he saw you.

"You left your groceries at my house," you said, attempting to convey with your gaze: Hey, I know you're Spider-Man, and I saw you drop your shit just to chase after a criminal. Step up your game.  

His father appeared in the doorway. When he recognized you, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Miles, why didn't you tell me you were visiting a friend?"

You could see the gears turning in Miles' head. Then, to your own astonishment, he responded, "Girlfriend. Not friend."

A sudden crash of dishes on the floor interrupted the scene. Miles' mother stormed towards the door. "What did I just hear?"

You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. What the hell, Morales?

Thankfully, you and Miles had always possessed the unique ability to communicate without words.

His look pleaded: Play along. Please.

Who were you to let down a friend in need? If he needed the excuse of a girlfriend, then of course you would provide your assistance.

His father's jaw had dropped. He stared at you as if he were seeing you for the first time in his life.

"Yep!” you said cheerfully. “Girlfriend. We've been dating for..." You looked at him, seeking his support on the matter.

"For a while!" he rushed to say.

Not helpful, you thought.

"What do you mean 'a while'?" his mother inquired suspiciously.

"Nine months,” he said.

"NINE MONTHS?" Her shrill voice pierced through the room, making you cringe. "You've been dating a girl for nine months, and you're only telling us now? Come on in, dear, don't just stand there in the doorway!" She grabbed you by the shoulder and, before you could protest, you were dragged into the living room.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a disaster.

"That explains a lot," his father muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself and thinking out loud. He patted Miles on the back. "You could have talked to me about it, kid. Although... I guess you're not a kid anymore, huh?" His tone turned sentimental and fatherly, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the entire situation. You had to suppress the urge to grimace.

"Miles, don't just stand there like that, take your girlfriend's bag! She came all the way here because you're forgetful." His mother gave you a tense, yet warm smile. She probably would have reacted worse if Miles had introduced them to a complete stranger.

Miles, who suddenly seemed to remember that he had a role to play, hurriedly took the bag from you, putting it on the kitchen counter. When he returned, you could see him hesitate for a moment before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Tame.

Well. You were in front of his parents, so displaying restraint seemed appropriate.

But if you were already doing him a favor, you wanted to have your fun with it.

With a mischievous grin, you took his hand in yours, and he looked at you with wide, somewhat panicked eyes.

"I don't understand why you didn’t tell us sooner,” his father said.

"Because you guys embarrass me," Miles murmured shyly.

"Embarrassing? Us?" His mother gave him a disapproving glare. Then, turning to you, she said, "Don't break his heart, yeah?”  

"Mom!" He whined, blushing.

His genuine reactions were delightfully innocent, and you couldn’t resist taking it a step further.

You threw both your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was taller than you, and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. Caught off guard, his eyes widened as your lips met his.

His father cleared his throat, and his mother made a choked sound.

Grinning, you released him from the embrace.  

"I'm afraid I still have a lot of homework to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Miles. You guys have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

You left the apartment.

Miles ran after you and caught up with you on the street.

"You – what was that just now?" he exclaimed.

"I should be the one asking questions. Since when did I become your girlfriend?"

"I had to use that excuse!" He sounded contrite. "Sorry, it's just... They've been on my case for ages because I'm always busy and away from home."

"Don't worry about it." You gave him an encouraging smile. "I don't mind playing your girlfriend. Was that your first kiss just now?"

He flinched, embarrassment written all over his face. "No, I've kissed hundreds of girls. What are you talking about?"

"You're a pretty bad liar, Miles."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Fine. Yeah, it was my first kiss. Satisfied?"

"No, not yet. But it seems we'll have plenty of opportunities to practice kissing in the future."

Before he could say anything in response, you had already walked on, leaving an extremely perplexed and embarrassed Miles behind.

Well, you thought, this whole ordeal might actually be a nice distraction from my boring life.

You just had to be careful not to fall for him.

[akoyaxs]

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 2 ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 5.6k words Warnings: arguing, Aonung is a little shit, reader is a little bit bitchy, oral (fem recieving), edging, p in v, THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

You don’t sleep well. It’s not surprising, given that your body’s aching from your fight with Aonung, and you other… rendezvous, and when you finally can’t take the uncomfortable tussling on your sleeping mat, you let out a soft hiss and sit up.

The light permeating through the gaps in the marui’s weaving is watery and cool and dim. Not quite moonlight, but you doubt the sun’s even broken the horizon yet.

You look over at your family sleeping around you. Your parents share a mat with Tuk tucked between their bodies, and Kiri’s curled up beside you, her choppy hair falling over her peaceful face. Neteyam’s on his back, face twitching slightly from whatever dream he’s having, and Lo’ak’s slumbering facing his brother, head nearly lolling onto Neteyam’s shoulders.

You feel a soft pang at the sight of your family, all peaceful and still while you glance over them. All your annoyance at training with Aonung, and your tiredness after the events of the previous day fade away as your mind clears, and you remind yourself of your position in this family.

No one asked you to do it, of course not, your parents and siblings thought it may break you, but you’d always been the protector. Since you were born, minutes before your twin Neteyam came, you knew that it was up to you to defend your siblings, help your parents and do anything in your power to make this family work. If it was a fortress, you’d be the moat around it.

So, gently tucking Kiri’s hair out of her face and hitching Lo’ak’s blanket higher over him and Neteyam, you slip out of the marui into the still, watery morning. The village is quiet; the only sound coming from the gentle waves lapping below the walkways and maruis. There’s no one out, so you take advantage of the emptiness, the first moment of peace you’ve been able to steal since you arrived in the reef.

And there’s one more thing you haven’t done since you came. The one thing you truly loved, that was yours and yours alone. You sneak through the village, wincing at every creak the bouncy woven walkways make with every few steps. You have your bow slung over your shoulder and your knife tucked away into your tewng as you leap off the last platform onto the sand and then finally into the forest.

To be fair, they never said you couldn’t leave the soft beaches and cool water of the bay, to go beyond that line of bright white sand and into the closest thing to home you had here. It’s not like you’re breaking any rules, spoken ones at least, but you can’t help the feeling that you’re doing something wrong, that someone’s watching as you step off the sand.

But once your feet fall on soft grass and the open sky fades to soft emerald foliage, you can’t be fucked to worry. The lapping waves are replaced by rustling leaves and the twittering of hidden creatures, and the salty, tropical scents are replaced by what is distinctly forest. And then finally, a familiar shrieking noise calls through the forest, and your face lights up as you run towards it.

Your ikran is perched in the trees, obviously delighted to see you, though clearly disgruntled she was abandoned for so long. You reach up to stroke her long neck before connecting your kuru and sliding onto her back.

Eywa, you had missed the rush flying gave. The wind in your hair and the twist in your gut as you watched the ground soar past beneath you. The way you could twist and dive and swoop was terrifyingly breathtaking. You let go and let out a delighted cry, flying freely through the sky.

You finally make it past the forest and over the ocean. You swoop in ever widening circles, down and down towards the water. You tilt over the surface so you can reach out and brush the water with your fingertips and her with her wingtips.

As you spiral back up, you spot a very familiar figure gliding through the ocean below you. Broad, tall, hair braided back as he darts through the water on a tsurak. You scowl as he looks down hurriedly as you swoop over him, the sun having risen just enough for your shadow to cast over him.

You both know the other is there, but you ignore it. You continue to fly in wide circles, hair flowing behind you, legs holding tight to your ikran while you let your arms go and catch as much wind as possible. Aonung continues to do whatever the fuck he’s doing below, maybe hunting?

And then finally, you feel your ikran slowing down through your tsaheylu, and with a small sigh of disappointment, you swoop down to the beach below. It’s not the same one as the bay of the village, but it will just mean more time for yourself to find your way back. Unfortunately, there was someone already on the sand.

“What are you doing?” you ask bluntly, when Aonung looks over at you sliding off your ikran and disconnecting your kuru.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, nodding to your ikran. “Got sick of being incompetent underwater? Went for a little walk in the forest?”

“It’s not like I can’t-” you start to say, but he scoffs.

“You can’t.”

His voice is blunt, uninterested. It’s practically a command, and your eyes instantly narrow. You’ve never been good at following orders; something that always drove your dad crazy, something that always made Neteyam try to fix up, though you were a firm believer in dealing with your own messes.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” you say sharply, eyes narrowing somewhat the longer you stare at his stupid, entitled face. Aonung’s face twists in a lilting grin, eyes trailing up and down over you as he scoffs.

“Your future Olo’eyktan,” he says simply.

“And what happened to me not fitting in, that I’ll never be a part of the clan with my baby tail and scrawniness?” you ask, your growing anger clear in your low voice.

Aonung doesn’t reply, just looking you up and down again, and you decide to stoop down to his level, eyes roaming across him, prepared to find some new insult to hurl if needed. He is admittedly very well built, with a sculpted, solid chest tapering into a slimmer waist, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He is broad and tall, something infuriatingly obvious already knew, but you hadn't noticed the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way the veins in his arm flexed when he tensed. Well you did, but you only noticed when he was moaning beneath you. And then you flick your gaze back up to him and find him glaring back.

“Are you going to storm off again?” Aonung asks, his voice sounding slightly amused as you turn away and stride away from him along the sand.

“No,” you scowl, trying not to let your irritation show too much. You don’t want him to realise how deep he can get. Under your skin. That’s all. But he seems to guess what you’re shamefully thinking, because his voice sounds even more cocky when he speaks again.

“Do you need some help freak?”

“Fuck off,” you growl, still determinedly not looking back at him over your shoulder as you definitely don’t storm away. “I don’t need help, least of all from a cocky, brainless, dull, oblivious, pestering, rude, taunting, tiny-dick-”

“Right,” Aonung laughs, and you can practically hear the amusement in that deep voice. You can also picture the smirk fixed on those fish lips as he watches you stride away. “Quite tiny-dicked, wasn’t I?”

You turn with a furious hiss, only to find him feet away, laughing at you. His eyes are sparkling with amusement at the sight of you, flushed and irritated and hair streaming behind you. He’s got you right where you had him yesterday, furious and frustrated while he can just enjoy the sight.

“Why are you still so cocky,” you snap, jabbing him in the chest. He doesn’t shift in the slightest, and if anything, he looks even more amused, grinning from at least a foot above. “I won. I beat you every time, but you are just so infuriatingly, incomprehensibly fucking arrogant that anything I say, any time I win, nothing can get into your stupid, cocksure head.”

You pointedly smack the top of his head, and he grins even wider, before reaching out to grab your wrist before you can hit him again.

“Let me go.”

“You know,” Aonung says, fangs glinting in his wide smile as he stares down at you, “you really shouldn’t be attacking your future Olo’eyktan.”

“You really should let me go,” you say bluntly, trying to tug your wrist free from him without looking like you’re struggling. “Before I smack you so hard that you never get to become Olo’eyktan.”

Aonung just laughs, pulling you an inch closer so once again, you have to tilt your head right back to maintain this glare. It seems unfair, that you always have to be the one working to bitch stare this stupid infuriating freak.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means let go of me before I smack your aquatic ass back to Eywa,” you hiss. Aonung’s mouth twitches again, but to your surprise, he lets you go. He doesn’t step back though, and when you try to walk around him, he just grabs your shoulders to stop you passing.

“Where are you going?” he sighs, as amused as ever.

“Away from you,” you snap.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Aonung says, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glances over your shoulder, and you attempt to shrug him off and continue in your way.

“Like I’d believe you,” you huff. “After you left Lo’ak outside the reef.”

“The village is back this way,” Aonung says tightly, his amusement starting to finally fade somewhat as you finally manage to shove him off and start storming the other way.

“Yeah, I don’t really trust you,” you call over your shoulder.

“Fine,” he shouts back. “Get lost then, I don’t fucking care. Maybe there’s an akula around here that can make itself useful and finish you off.”

At that, you stop. Chest heavily as you suspiciously contemplate what to do, you wonder vaguely why he’d lie. But also, him telling the truth and actually trying to get you back to the village doesn’t seem like a very likely possibility either. You squint suspiciously at him for a few moments, and he just glares straight back. Reluctantly, you let your arms drop to your sides and you do the walk of shame back towards him.

“Decided to trust me then freak?” he asks with a cocky little grin.

“Don’t make me regret it fishlips,” you say shortly.

As you storm away, you can feel Aonung’s gaze blazing into your skin, and after a few moments, you can’t take it any longer, rounding on him with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

“Can I help you?” you snap. “Is there a reason you keep staring at my body, or are you just planning new ways to call me a freak?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, though he looks a little abashed you caught him. When you’re clearly waiting for an response and it becomes clear his little scoff isn’t answer enough, he clears his throat and pastes a frown onto his face.

“You have a lot of scars,” he says, slightly awkwardly.

“Sorry, is that repulsive to you?” you snap. “Are my freakish blemishes blasphemous to the perfect prince? Would you like me to dress like a fucking nun so you don’t have to see my scars?”

“No,” Aonung says, his frown becoming more gentle, though he clearly doesn’t even know what a nun is. “That is not what I meant. I just… some are very big scars.”

“Yeah well,” you say off-handedly, trying not to let some of your bitterness into your voice as you lower your gaze to your body. You’d rather die than let him think you feel sorry for yourself. “You’re very sheltered in the reef, very safe. Not everyone gets that privilege.”

Aonung’s frown becomes a little more comprehensive, and he blinks a little. “What did they all come from?”

“Why are you so curious?” you snap defensively. “Because if you’re going to taunt me about that, you’re fucked up-”

“We have to train together for who knows how long,” Aonung cuts you off, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying we have to get along, you’re probably incapable of holding a conversation longer than two minutes without rage and violence anyway, but if we have to train all the time, I should know if you’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, tail wrapping defensively around your leg. “They’re all old anyway.” When Aonung’s clearly waiting for you to say more, you sigh and continue. “Mostly from training when I was younger, some from my iknimaya and encounters with animals in the forest.”

You hope to Eywa that’s all, because you don’t really feel like going into the nitty gritty of the other ones right now. Unfortunately, Aonung has a knack to do exactly what you don’t want him too.

“And this one,” he says, nodding to your hip. You freeze and shift uncomfortably. It’s hidden, as you’re always careful too, beneath the string of your tewng. A circular marr in the skin between your hip and stomach, perfectly round.

“What one?” you say, hoping he’s not talking about what you think of.

But he doesn’t just say it, point out that you’re hiding it, he reaches out and brushes his finger over the small bullet wound concealed under the delicate string of your tewng. Instantly, you flinch away and hiss, tail flicking up defensively and ready to fight by instinct. Aonung just drops his hand away, and you don’t need to even look at him to know he wants an explanation of it.

“It’s a bullet wound,” you sigh. “I was shot by an avatar in the forest, when we were ambushed. I was hit while escaping with Kiri.”

“Seems like something you should mention,” Aonung points out. “You know, getting shot seems kind of prudent.”

“I’m surprised someone so dense even knows that word,” you mutter to yourself, before speaking so he can hear. “It’s not that important really, I’m more focused on my family.”

“You were shot,” Aonung says, squinting at you as though confused. “And you’re thinking of your family?”

“Yes,” you say defensively, face feeling hot. “I mean, I had to protect them. Kiri and Lo’ak were scared, and I didn’t want Neteyam to get any blood on his hands-”

“And you have it then?” Aonung asks quietly. “Blood? On your hands?”

Your silence is answer enough, and his eyes widen slightly.

“We were at war,” you say stiffly, not quite sure why you’re trying to justify yourself to this skxawng. “I had to kill to survive, and I would happily kill to protect my family. I just did what was necessary.”

Aonung just stares at you. You wonder faintly if maybe you have something on your face, or maybe if your flight had made the wind blow your hair everywhere. Then you wonder why the fuck you’re even thinking about your appearance. It doesn’t make any difference to Aonung what you look like, you’re going to look like a freaky foreigner anyway.

“How’d you even see that anyway?” you ask dully, turning back and continuing to walk. He catches up beside you, staring down shamelessly. You feel a small pang of irritation that he can stare so casually; you’d have to lift your head up to glare at him, which seems like a lot of fucking effort when you don’t even want conversation.

“It’s pretty clear,” Aonung says, which doesn’t exactly clear things up. “It’s all pale and-”

“It’s always hidden,” you say stiffly.

“Well,” Aonung says, a certain slyness to his deep voice that makes you scowl and finally look up at him. “Only hidden when you’re wearing your tewng. So without it- OW!”

You storm ahead, having already whipped your tail across his chest and stomped on his stupid foot. You ignore the flush in your face, feeling stupid that you thought he wouldn’t mention it again. Stupid smug skxawng, needing to remind you that you fucked.

“You’re so childish sometimes,” he sulks, rubbing his chest, which now has a purplish streak from where your thin tail had whipped him.

“And what are you then?” you roll your eyes. “Because last time I checked, I wasn’t chatting about us fucking like some pathetic virgin.”

“You wish,” Aonung scoffs. “I was just saying it was interesting that no one else has seen you without your tewng yet-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you say slyly. That finally shuts him the fuck up, and he stops dead in his tracks. When you look up to grin victoriously, his eyes are narrowed and his face is deader than you’ve ever seen it. The coldness in his eyes, the anger that you don’t quite understand, only fuels your triumph that you finally managed to wipe that smirk off his face. “What’s wrong? Upset you didn’t get the first hit of the pretty new thing?”

“I don’t like sharing,” Aonung says stiffly, and you scoff.

“Good,” you snap. “Because there isn’t anything to share, I’m not yours. I’m also not some delicate little nun, just because you think I’m a peculiar freak doesn’t mean other people find me unappealing-”

“Who?” he asks, his voice a crisp, cool rumble.

“Like I’d tell you,” you roll your eyes.

“They wouldn’t.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” you hiss at his sharp words, stepping in to glare at him. Again. “You’re looking down on your other clan mates for fucking me when less than a day ago, you were fucking moaning under me. You got fucking hard by me shouting at you.”

You expect Aonung to get angry again. He looks like maybe he’s about to shove you, maybe yell at you, maybe even grab your kuru again. There’s a certain dark, cold anger in his eyes, the same one he always gets when this happens, when you’re close to him, shouting him down and glaring furiously. But then his scowling lips loosen into a small smirk, and you brace yourself for some infuriating stupidity.

“I only wish they did a good job,” he says coolly. “I don’t like you, but I can’t have you getting a poor idea of the Metkayina. Honour my clan, protect my people, you know.”

“Your interest in my sex life is suspicious Aonung,” you say, eyes narrowing as you try to figure out what he’s doing. “What should it matter to you? Because I know I didn’t ruin any standards for Omatikayan sex, not with the way you were moaning.”

“Was I disappointing to you princess?” Aonung smirks, not in the least deterred by your dig at him. “And don’t bother lying,” he adds amusedly, when you furiously open your mouth. “I was there. I felt the way you were squeezing me-”

“And you liked that, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” he says, unabashed. He’s staring down at you in a way that makes you deeply suspicious. “But if you want to be pleased, all you have to do is ask.”

“You don’t like me,” you point out. It’s a basic fact, a mutual one at that, and he just nods.

“No, I don’t like you,” Aonung says simply, casually. “But I can’t have you sauntering around with the worst opinion of me. Infuriating I can handle. Taunting, yes. Pestering, I try my best. Cocky, absolutely. But tiny-dicked, or unsatisfactory… I’d rather get shot too.”

“What are you suggesting then?” you say wearily, eyeing him suspiciously as his smirk widens. You didn’t mean to sound quite so open to ideas, but he certainly looked like he was about to suggest the hell out of something.

“Let’s cut the crap. We both left satisfied last night, and don’t lie to my face and pretend you’ve had better. You help me, I help you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have a good time,” Aonung says bluntly, and you look at him in surprise. You weren’t at all expecting him to be so open, and somehow it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you’d hoped. Somewhere deep, you’re too suspicious about what he’s about to say next to feel any pleasure from his words. “And you know you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. No matter how many moans you bit back doesn’t change the fact your lips were bloody from trying to be quiet. Even when you closed your eyes, I could see them rolling back. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought princess, forgetting I could feel you clenching, hear your heavy breaths, your heartbeat-”

“Stop!” you snap, scrunching your face up to hide your embarrassment, to cover it up with yet another wave of irritation and shoving him hard in the chest. “Just SPIT IT OUT!”

“I can help you out,” Aonung says slyly. “And you help me, whenever we need… release.”

“What?” you snap. You scowl, then consider it. He had been good, if you’re listening to him and stop lying to yourself. Not just good. Eye rolly, leg shaky, heart thumpy good. So good that you had to physically bite yourself to stop yourself from letting him know just how good he was. And then you scowl again. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up, fish lips?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, but before you know what’s happened, he’s flipped you onto the ground. Body trapped under his, arms pinned above your head. Your faces are inches apart, eyes scanning over each other, his breath fanning hotly against your neck. You’re aware of your situation. He’s smarter this time, legs trapped under him, arms pinned back. You can’t escape. And you aren’t going to flatter him by trying to. Instead, you find yourself nodding imperceptibly, your legs spreading unconsciously. Traitors.

Aonung smirks and hitches himself up slightly so he can slide further down your body. His fingers trail over your body, over your waist and the darker blue stripes across your stomach.

“You’re so strange,” he taunts you.

“Arent you supposed to be proving some kind of point right now?” you point out. “Insulting and freak-shaming me isn’t exactly a great way to get into my pa-”

He’s got experience, that much is for sure. You can tell by his expert movements as he swiftly unties your tewng, or when you shift, and he reaches to pin your hips still against the sand. There’s a moment of self-consciousness where you squeeze your thighs, and he frowns up at you. Then his strong hands are muscling them apart, and before you know it, his face is buried between your thighs.

When his nose nudges again your clit and he licks a long stripe up your cunt, you let out a small hiss and immediately reach to grip at his braided hair. He’s obviously hell bent on proving himself, because when he points his tongue and darts it into you, your hips rut straight into his face. And to his credit, Aonung doesn’t protest or make any snide comment. He sticks to his job, and he does a damn good one at that. Which is infuriating, by the way.

Because he is smug about it. He’s mean with it. He never stays somewhere to long, and when you try to tug his head, he grins against you and closes his lips around your clit and sucks. Hard. In a way that makes your head spin, and the first time he does it, you can’t catch yourself before a loud whine escapes your lips. He ignores your tugging, choosing to move your hips to his leisure rather than putting in the copious effort of moving his now slicked, shining face.

But he knows he’s doing well. He can obviously tell, given the way you’re rutting against his lips and tongue and even fangs as though your life depends on it. When he slides in a finger, you clench so tight to it you might as well have tried strangling him. You have no patience for humiliation, you’ll deal with his certain taunting and teasing once you’ve cum so hard Eywa will blush.

You wonder blindly where the fuck he learnt all of this, and if he usually puts in this much effort for people. Other girls wouldn’t be as difficult to please, you conclude. He’s putting in the fucking work. Stupid skxawng. You’re humping your cunt into his mouth hard enough that you probably would have caused a pretty serious neck injury if he wasn’t stupidly, ridiculously massive, but he’s just pulling your ass even closer to the point your little whimpers that slip through your mouth are audible.

And then he’s pulling away. You scowl and gasp, reaching to tug his head back towards you, but he just laughs crudely and pins you back up against the sand. You squirm and struggle with him for a moment, but when his hips slot between yours and his tented tewng slides against your clit, you’re cut off with a lewd groan of frustration.

“So wet, aren’t you?” he taunts, grinning at your slick smeared across his tewng now. You make to protest, to snap at him or maybe even shout, but his hips roll fluidly against you again and you let out a humiliating whine. “So eager. You’re the fucking hypocrite, whining for me.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, face flushed and trying to pretend like your voice wasn’t actually as hot and bothered as it came out.

“Just say the words,” Aonung mock-coos. You try to turn away, to break the stare, but his face just follows, and you continue to be trapped in that smug, blazing gaze. “Say them, and I’ll help you out.”

“You’re a fucking perv,” you hiss, trying to level your breath, but his hips roll against you again and your growl is cut off by another lewd moan.

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one losing her mind over a few touches,” he grins. “Go on freak, just say it.”

“Fine,” you snap, relenting when he digs you a little deeper into the sand with a slower thrust against your clit.

Aonung smirks, looking infuriatingly delighted by himself. There’s a minute where you want to smack him right then and there, drag him by the kuru and drown him and maybe even toss him off your ikran, but then there’s a deeper, more urgent desire to get your annoyance fucked out of you. Stupid horniness, getting in the way of perfectly logical plans of justified murder.

“What was that?” he grins, hefting you towards himself in a way that grinds him in the perfect spot, and you bite down the moan you nearly scream. “I need words.”

“Fuck me then,” you growl, frustration etched in every fibre of your being, in your words and face and glare. And especially in your aching core.

“On one condition,” Aonung says. He has some twisted enjoyment of this scene, you splayed out and half-naked below him, teeth sunk stubbornly into your lips, yet not strong enough to hold back the stream of frustrated, lewd whines that slip through your obstinate cracks.

“What,” you seethe, seconds away from strangling this skxawng with your kuru. He takes his sweet fucking time before responding, thoroughly enjoying your squirming figure below him as he lazily rolls his hips against you.

“You stop holding back those moans of yours,” he whispers, hot and heavy right against your neck. Where he can doubtless hear, even feel how urgent and desperate your pulse is. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You growl in frustration, pushing aimlessly at his shoulders in an attempt to do what you had yesterday, ride him until he was the one moaning and quailing beneath you. But his solid form stays stubbornly above yours, that stupid smirking face grinning right down at you.

“I thought this was about you trying to please me,” you grumble, letting your head fall back against the sand in irritation.

“You really are a brat,” Aonung grunts. His voice is getting more tense, eyes darkening further, and you realise all his attempts to tease you, all his efforts to drive you to a pleading point are edging him in the process. But you don’t have time to think of some sly plan, some way to taunt him later and a clever idea for now. You’re horny and impatient and you aren’t someone who takes teasing kindly. You aren’t one to give in easily, but you’ve protested enough.

“Fine then,” you huff, tossing your head so your hair’s out of your face. “Give me something to moan about, then we’ll see what happens.”

Aonung grins, finally sliding away long enough to disregard his tewng, and then he’s right back above you, lining himself up and holding your hips down to keep you still.

“You want something to moan about?” he grunts, snapping his hips forward in one fluid, deep movement, burying himself deep into you.

And you do. The sound you let out is a hoarse gasp, a breathless cry, but it’s strangled before it’s even fully out of your mouth. Aonung pulls out to the tip, where you’re gripping him so tight there’s no fucking possibility of him slipping out, before pushing back in with the force of a fucking rocket.

You aren’t even sure if you can moan, not when he’s literally fucking the breath out of you with each unrelenting, ravenous thrust. There isn’t much you can do, not much you think you’d be able to do regardless, when you’re pinned below him. You’re just being fucked further and further into the soft white sand, which feels like some ironic comfort to his insatiable pace.

But when he lifts your hips up a little, slamming into a new point that knocks a fucking cry out of you, you find your fist instinctively sinking into your mouth to hide it. Instantly, Aonung’s hand is pulling it carelessly away, eyes blazing as he pushes it away from your now vulnerably empty mouth.

“What did I say freak,” he snarls.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you spit. “Calling me freak when you’re trying to fuck the breath out of me.”

“Call me what you like,” Aonung says carelessly. “Just don’t hold it back.”

And then, before you can snap back a retort, that familiar heat is growing again. Aonung can feel it too, by the way you’re clenching around him so tight you may as well be trying to strangle him. But there’s certain things you’re still trying to hide, especially now that you can’t even have your moans to yourself.

Like the way you’re watching his muscles ripple with each movements, arms tense and flexed beside you, back rippling and shoulders broad above your slimmer figure. When you think about his hands, the way just one could wrap easily around your whole throat, you moan like a fucking whore and tighten around him in a way that has him groaning.

And then finally, out of nowhere although it was a long time coming, the wave crests, and your vision fades to blinding white. You clench like a vice around Aonung, and he fucks out through it with deep, hungry thrusts. You’re barely aware of the face you’ve never come this hard in your life, or that you’re moaning loud enough on this echoey ass beach that the village can probably hear.

When you finally come down, Aonung’s let himself go. You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

You both breathe heavily for a moment, Aonung having decided to unceremoniously flop onto the sand (which mostly means his massive body is crushing you). When you finally have enough breath, and probably forty perent of your usual life, you weakly shove at him.

“Get off my skxawng.”

He obliges, grudgingly, rolling the last few inches so he’s flopped and spent beside you. Who’s also flopped and spent. Neither of you speak. You can’t think of anything to say, and you wonder vaguely if that’s just you being fucked out or your just lost for words.

“Have an answer yet?” he says after a long moment.

“We have to go to training,” is all you say, sitting up with a groan and sliding on your tewng. Aonung huffs a laugh, also sitting up and watching you struggle to clothe yourself.

“Of course,” he rolls his eyes. “Ow.”

You leave him there on the sand, striding away back to the village before his amused voice calls out behind you.

“You’re going the wrong way again skxawng!”

──────⊱⁜⊰────── ༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re @yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

[louisupdates]

LOUIS TOMLINSON HAS FESTIVALS DOWN AT SZIGET 2024

SUN 11TH AUGUST, 2024 | 4:56 PM

A fearless masterclass in unifying rock & roll.

Words: Ali Shutler. | Photos: Frances Beach.

“Festivals are a new thing for me,” Louis Tomlinson admits onstage at Sziget, but you wouldn’t know it. 2022’s ‘Faith In The Future’ was full of the sort of rowdy indie anthems that are perfect for a sunset slot on a festival main stage and today, he’s every bit the swaggering rock star. Kicking off with the thundering ‘The Greatest’, Louis delivers the soaring track with his arms outstretched, embracing the chaos that’s already unfolding in the heaving crowd.

There’s an urgency to every slab of guitar-driven music, but there’s a confidence in how Louis and his band allow each track to build. It means the hammering ‘Kill My Mind’, the tender ‘Bigger Than Me’ and the unifying ‘We Made It’ give the show a real sense of dynamic colour, while the dreamy ‘Holding Onto Heartache’ sees Louis slow things down without losing any of that energy.

Despite the hulking rock anthems, Louis hasn’t forgotten his pop chops either. Covers of One Direction’s ‘Drag Me Down’, ‘Night Changes’, and ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ are all delivered with a newfound bite, but those stadium-ready choruses are as sugary sweet as ever. From the diehard fans who’ve been camping out at the barrier all day, to the impromptu dance parties that break out towards the back of the field, Louis’ set inspires a real sense of giddy community throughout the festival, and he’s there right alongside them. The entire thing feels like a celebration.

“I’m a big music fan, which is why I do what I do, and I love coming to festivals but I’ve not done this a lot,” he says, once again explaining how new the unpredictable beast that events like this are for him. “It’s an honour to play these spaces because I know how good it feels to be where you guys are,” Louis adds before breaking into the widest of grins, “Festivals are good, right?”

From the moment he released debut single ‘Just Hold On’, Louis’ solo career has been about taking risks and following his gut. It’s led him today, where he puts on a fearless masterclass in unifying rock & roll. Sure, it’s another leap into the unknown but from the euphoric ‘Face The Music’ through the playful funk of ‘Written All Over Your Face’ to the punk-fuelled catharsis of ‘Out Of My System’, today’s set is a total triumph.