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avoxrising · 5 months

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The Feral One • Chapter 7

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Trying to balance good writing with getting out chapters quickly so bare with me!

Content warnings - violence and death, cursing

“It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaims. “Wiress, you’re a genius!”

Katniss explains to the group how the arena works, making you realize that you running into the tribute during the lightning was just a coincidence, and the lightning didn’t always mean danger.

The group decides to go to the cornucopia to survey the arena and test their theory. You would like to grab a weapon but you don’t know if that’s allowed. Katniss already confiscated the arrow she shot you with so all you have is a weak arm and an injured arm.

Finnick walks between you and Peeta, with Katniss behind him. You really need to earn her trust back if you’re going to stay with the group, although, you don’t know how much she trusted you to begin with.

Katniss and Peeta warily eye you as you look through the weapons, trying to find a knife or two. Too many large weapons will just slow you down. You’d rather just have a few knives on you.

“She’s fine,” you hear Finnick tell the pair. “It’s safer for us that she is armed in case we get attacked. She’s already told me she doesn’t want to kill you so I doubt she’ll throw any knives your way. She knows the difference between doing damage in a fight and killing. Just give her space and don’t act so on edge around her. She’s doing her best.”

Katniss lowers her bow but doesn’t make any move to distance herself from you. It seems like the guarding followed you from the capital to the arena.

The group sits down as Peeta draws a map of the arena. Wiress goes down to the water to clean off some wire Beetee got that you assume is for his big smart plan.

“Did you see anything where you went?” Finnick asks you. You shake your head and just point at the lightning Peeta drew on the map.

“Just lightning?” he confirms and you nod your head. Looking at the map, you’re glad you only ended up with lightning. The rest of the jungle looks terrifying.

The group begins chatting about birds in mines when you hear a sudden gasp. You all turn to see Gloss slitting Wiress’ throat. If the capital wanted you to act feral, they were about to get a show.

It happened so fast. Katniss shot Gloss before Johanna threw an axe into Cashmere, killing her instantly. You noticed Brutus and Enobaria going for Finnick and Katniss but you were too far away to stop the knife Enobaria threw from sinking into Finnick thigh. She’s dead.

You charge at her, screaming like a wild animal. She seems ready for your attack, however, and positions herself for your oncoming blow. You collide with her, sending both of you to the ground.

There’s no time to reach for the blade tucked into your belt. You claw at her face, drawing blood, as she attempts to push you off her. She’s successful in rolling the two of you over, putting herself on top. You go to grab for a knife when her teeth sink into your wrist, shooting pain through your whole body. It’s a shock she didn’t bite your whole hand off.

That’s when the cornucopia starts spinning. Enobaria leaps off of you and tries her best to escape with Brutus while the rest of the group is caught off guard by the movement. You clutch onto the rocks with your good arm but you can feel yourself slipping.

Katniss falls off the same time you do, sending both of you into the water. Even with your bad arm, you’re still a better swimmer, so when the water calms you’re able to orient yourself.

You spot Katniss struggling to find the surface a few yards away from you, so you dive back under and swim to her. Bracing yourself for human contact, you grab her arm and start propelling her to the surface. It takes her a second to realize you’re helping, especially with the amount of blood you’re releasing into the water, but she swims with you till you reach air again.

Peeta helps her out of the water, checking to make sure she’s ok. You do your best to pull yourself up but you’re in too much pain. Finnick takes notice and grabs onto you, yanking you onto the rocks.

He doesn’t even have to say what you’re thinking. The bite looks bad. It’s hard to tell if Enobaria punctured the vein in your wrist but you think she did due to the amount it’s bleeding.

“Johanna,” Finnick calls. “Do we have any bandages left?”

“Nope,” she shouts. “The only ones we had went to Volts.”

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to figure out what to do. He uses your knife to cut the arm off your wetsuit, apologizing that he had to cut yours as his was destroyed by the fog. He wraps the fabric tightly around your wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This should work until we can get some sponsors to send us something better,” he states. You shake your head at him. Sponsors wouldn’t send you anything. You were on your own.

Taglist:

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#hunger games #hunger games fic #finnick odair #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair angst #finnick #thg finnick #finnick fluff #catching fire #the feral one

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originalaccountname · 1 year

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I made some funny comics a little while ago about the potential effects of Fukuzawa's ability on Chuuya's, and how it perhaps could make it revert to a pre-Arahabaki state.

I realized later that some of you lack the context for where that came from, and that I might be creating confusion, so this is a (hopefully) comprehensive walkthrough of things we learned in Storm Bringer that lead to this conclusion.

tldr; The lab created "Arahabaki" by manipulating an ability into a destructive force. That ability existed before the lab, and the nature of that ability is heavily implied to be the power to enhance other abilities through touch.

Explanation and sources below (so you can judge yourself) ⬇

- spoiler warning for Storm Bringer, hopefully written in a way that you'd understand even if you haven't read it yet -

In Storm Bringer, Chuuya meets the scientist that was responsible for Project Arahabaki, Professor N.

Project Arahabaki, N explains, was the Japanese government's secret project to create an ability singularity they could have control over and freely use as a weapon.

What are singularities? Singularities are what happens when abilities clash in specific ways and create a new, unforeseen reaction. The easiest way to create a singularity is to pit two contradictory abilities against each other to create a paradox; examples included the ability to always deceive and the ability to always perceive the truth, and to have two ability users who can see into the future (*coughs* Oda and Gide) try to one-up each other. The result is usually much more powerful than the original abilities on their own.

Some singularities are said to have been explained as god-like interventions, because of their often destructive nature. This is what inspired the name "Arahabaki", after the mythical being (here's a post of the subject and I'll it link at the end too) These events are described as very rare.

Like mentioned in that passage, there is another way to create a singularity: to have a single ability user use their ability in a way that contradicts itself. This is what the lab was trying to do.

For that explanation, Professor N gives an example. He first shows a video of a child, whose face is hidden from the camera, holding a coin (described as having a certain melancoly to it), with a moon and a fox engraved on it. The video is from one of the lab's tests. The child is made to recite some activation lines, which are directly taken from one of Nakahara Chuuya's poems, Upon the Tainted Sorrow (which does mentions a fox, as a fun fact).

The coin then starts glowing, the glow turns into a black mass, and from there the experimentation goes bad: the coin starts attracting things and absorbing them, the space gets distorted, the child's vitals flatline, panic spreads and someone calls for an emergency stop, we hear a scream. The video ends.

N explains that the child in the video had the ability to enhance the ability of others. That child then used that ability on themselves, effectively enhancing the enhancement which enhanced the enhancing, in an infinite loop. That loop created a lot of energy; the surplus of energy was so intense its mass deformed space (physics!) and it created a black hole.

Here's where it gets tricky: N claims that child died during that accident, that the child was absorbed by the black hole created by their ability. We never actually learn their identity.

But N is a lying liar who lies; he said about one and a half truths the entire book. The only reason he was telling them any of this was that he thought he'd get rid of all of them within the next few minutes. His objective was always to regain control over Chuuya, his pet project.

Plus, during the epilogue, we learn that Chuuya was assumed to have died during the war. That's what his parents think. That's what is officially recorded.

Furthermore.

Project Arahabaki was based off French research papers; someone else had done this kind of experimentation before, and their result was Verlaine.

Verlaine's gravity-manipulation is a singularity. Better yet: Verlaine also has a Corruption state, named Brutalization. Their abilities are the same, because the lab copied the techniques that were used to create Verlaine when they worked on Chuuya.

Here's a passage of Dazai nullifying Corruption, at the very end of SB:

"The self-contradicting skill, which was supporting the energy of a singularity". This passage confirms that the source of Chuuya's ability is, in fact, like the child's and Verlaine's, if any doubts remained. "[...] weakening the singularity's output. It wasn't long before it returned to its normal state, and the Gate closed." The Gate refers to releasing Arahabaki, it's basically a limiter, just like the passage above when talking about Brutalization. When Dazai nullifies Corruption, he gives that limiter the opportunity to come back and seal Chuuya's power away again, but does not stop the singularity, only allows it to go back to its stable state.

From all that, we can say that Chuuya's ability wasn't always gravity manipulation, but that it was another, unconfirmed ability that was exploited in such a way that it became a permanent, stable singularity that allowed him to have control over gravity.

Bullet point recap:

Chuuya's gravity manipulation comes from a singularity, like Verlaine, like that child;

You need a self-referencing/self-contradicting ability to create that singularity;

Such an event is rare;

There is a substantial amount of time spent describing a "random" child that was experimented on during the war;

That child created a black hole through their singularity;

That singularity was activated using a passage from Nakahara Chuuya's poems, while holding a coin that references it;

That child supposedly died;

Chuuya's parents think he died during the war;

N is a pathological liar with an agenda.

So no, there is no "confirmation" that Chuuya's ability was ability enhancement before the lab took him. But an author writes a story with an intent, so I am asking what Asagiri's intent was when writing all this, and if perhaps we weren't indirectly given the answer already.

What is Arahabaki (Fifteen and Storm Bringer lore, with too many citations)

My own perceived timeline of the true events behind Storm Bringer (was originally gonna be part of this part, also with too many citations)

#the dazai parallels are a nice little bonus because we KNOW chuuya as a character was designed to match dazai #he was most literally designed to go with him and contrast him #but that's meta analysis so i didn't include it in the actual post with the rest of the textual evidence #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd theory #bsd meta #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd storm bringer #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer #storm bringer #i'll reblog this to my art blog tomorrow so the people most concerned have more of a chance of seeing it #apparently i talk sometimes

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purplethespian · 4 months

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The American Census Bureau is considering changes that would artificially decrease the number of disabled people in the US. We may be able to stop this.

According to this article from the Associated Press, the Census Bureau's proposed changes would align the way that the American Community Survey measures disability with international standards. They will be changing the way that some of the questions are worded, as well as changing the options for answers.

The problem is this: the questions about disability will ask if respondents if they have “no difficulty,” “some difficulty,” “a lot of difficulty” or “cannot do at all” with regard to things like hearing, seeing, ability to bathe or dress oneself, etc. Someone will only be counted as disabled if they answer "a lot of difficulty" or "cannot do at all." This excludes a lot of people. "During testing last year by the Census Bureau, the percentage of respondents who were defined as having a disability went from 13.9% using the current questions to 8.1% under the international standards. When the definition was expanded to also include “some difficulty,” it grew to 31.7%" (AP).

So what can we do? The Census Bureau is accepting public comment on the proposed changes until the end of the day on Tuesday, December 19th. Visit this link to submit your comments, and tell the Census Bureau why this change is a bad idea! Statistics show that at least 25% of Americans are disabled (CDC). We can't let the Census Bureau erase us.

Please share this widely, and submit your comments before the close of business on Tuesday, December 19th! I also highly encourage you to check out the Associate Press article linked above, since it does a good job of explaining the situation in more detail.

#disability #disability advocacy #signal boost #disabled #actually disabled #advocacy #social justice #current events #census #surveys #tagging to boost #disability justice #disability awareness #invisible disability #physical disability #intellectual disability #disability rights #spoonie #disability community

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nerdieforpedro · 1 month

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Only about you tonight Mesh'la

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

This fanfic is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Warnings: Din Djarin is a menace, HANDS, massage, sense deprivation, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, body worship

Summary: The Mandalorian has had two things on his mind for some time. He wants to explore your curves and he wants to be between your thighs.

Notes: Din Djarin brain rot has fully set in. I have leaned HARD into it. I'm gonna give the man something soft to use. I mean, if it's Din, it's free use, right? Not beta-read. We're just putting out smut and putting out for Din.

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist / A03 link

It hasn’t been his intention at first, to have you spread before him like this. Din truly just wanted you as a partner for your skill with a blaster and quick wit. However, the more time he spends with you, the greater his desire has become to have his hands explore your rolls and holds.

The Mandalorian treats his longing like one of his bounties. Watching and biding his time. Opportunity struck when you’d been crouching down in a hiding spot behind some rocks while Mando took care of some imperial remnants. You’d been able to get a few good shots in, but your legs were cramping and you needed support to get back to the Razor Crest.

The suggestion was that he could massage your legs to ease the discomfort. You were hesitant but Mando was aware how much you trusted him. He felt some shame for using it to his own ends, but needed his hands on you. Helping you over to the cot was first, then having you lay down and take some deep breaths as you grew accustomed to him just placing his hands on your calves. Gloves were removed and you were able to see his uncovered scarred hands, moving slowly past your knees to your thighs. The large heaves of your chest as he worked were his indication as he moved, ecstatic to know that he was able to partially communicate his yearning. The Mandalorian stopped at your mid-thigh and asked if you wanted him to continue, his palms pressing into your soft flesh.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded before exhaling a soft yes. It was then that the Mandalorian let his fingers spread out and sunk partially into your thighs. His arousal has spun wildly and he’s throbbing at your agreement.

“Mesh’la do you want to remove your pants or should I? Direct contact is the best remedy for your aches.”

It appeared that your partner, the famed warrior had a rather specific ache he was willing to help you with, why else ask you to remove your bottoms? Not that you were complaining at all, raising your hips, Mando wasted no time in pulling them off. Behind his t-visor, he marveled at the plentiful gift of your plush skin before him. His hands immediately plunged into the jiggly meat, massaging as his calloused fingertips explored you.

Bending your knees in response, you exposed the moistness of your core sticking to your drenched panties, the new source of your ache. Watching the Mandalorian’s hands roll closer toward your heat, you finally released a moan. He stood, forcing some of his body weight into your thighs, making your next moan crack with a squeal.

“Mesh’la, allow me three things, your vision will need to be obscured, I will remove your panties and when you moan, call me Din. Please.” His voice was firm until the please, hinted desperation with his last word. Your broad partner above had a noticeable tent in his flight suit, you weren’t the only one aching - Maker be praised.

“I trust you Din. I always have, savor me.” Growling your agreement as your eyes showcase your lust, Din wishes he could show you his, but he cannot. A brief few moments are spent away from you as he retrieves a thick black piece of fabric. Tied around your eyes, he shines a light from his arm guard at your face to test if you react to the light, you do not.

Now is the time - you hear a hissing noise and a metal thud followed by a thud. Has he removed it? His helmet? Is he really going to satisfy the feelings you thought you shouldn’t have for the man? His hands spread your legs further and he pulls you to the edge of the cot. That’s when you hear the richness of his unmodulated voice for the first time, your panties are pulled off. Your body flinches from both the cool air and the cold beskar that the back of your knees are now touching. You’re certain it’s his shoulder pauldrons which means he’s face to face with your desire for The Mandalorian, who you’ll now call Din.

“Sweet cyar’ika, I apologize for not caring for you properly sooner. Do not cover your mouth and do not hold back. My generous one.” His breath washes over your mouth, having you hitch your breath. He’s taking his time and you did instruct him to savor you but you’d like his mouth to be otherwise occupied.

“Din. Din. Don’t just stare. Touch me. So I can call your name louder.”

One of his hands playfully slaps your hip and his cheek rubs against your thigh, he’s enjoying teasing you, watching your desperation for him to begin. You speak his name with a moan, his call to action as two fingers find themselves on your folds to part the way for his tongue. It curls inside your entrance, your hips buck forward for more. Pressing his lips to flush your folds, the loud slurps and the increasing volume to which Din’s name was leaving your mouth filled the Razor Crest. Your ankles crossed behind his shoulders to force his face even further into your core.

Djarin tucked his chin and used his nose to graze your clit before pressing gently into the bundle while still licking vigorous stripes up and down your folds. You did something you thought may have been against whatever unspoken rules Din may have had with your hands diving into his soft hair, your center was quivering. It felt like something was coming out more than your normal orgasm. After screaming, still holding onto his precious hair that you may never feel again after what you’ve done to his face, soft moans still leave your lips because he’s still lapping up juices from your folds and inner thighs. The entire area is so sensitive but you’d never tell him to stop, only to keep going as he likes.

“Din I…didn’t mean to pull your hair. I’m not sure if I was supposed to touch it and your face is…wet I think.” The tough skin of his palms rubbed circles into the flesh of your thighs. You heard him chuckle, was something funny?

“No apologies needed cyar’ika. I won’t flinch from a few tugs. My wet face is an honor, one I hope to repeat. You’ll remove your shirt and bra, then sit. I want to see all of you bounce on my face mesh’la.” Gentle kisses down your inner thigh toward the fat on your knee tickle you. The gravity of what he’s saying isn’t lost on you, but it’s not just anyone asking. It’s Din. Someone who you know can lift you out of harm’s way, this is a completely different situation but the same principle applies: the man will be fine.

His teeth nibble on the pouch of fat next to your knee as he pulls you forward and removes your legs from his shoulders, placing his hands on your back and sitting you up at bedside. Softly groaning his name, your shirt is removed and you follow that with your bra. It’s Din’s turn to growl, his hands roam over the pouch where the lower part of your stomach hangs with his thumbs casually running between your rolls. His gaze warms your smile, your own hands find their way to his shoulders and then tentatively to his cheeks. The stubble scratches your fingertips as you map his face with your hands. He hasn’t pushed them away.

Din knows that this is the most he’ll be able to give you for now. You can feel his face, but not see it. He longs to one day have eye contact without his helmet or beskar (maybe some days with it on) buried within you but he can offer you this. He knows you can feel your slick on his face, he’s been dripping into his flight suit the entire time. He’d ask you on another day to help with that - today is about you. He wants you to know he doesn’t expect anything in return except your climaxes, screams and to be allowed to touch like this, manipulate your malleable body. Your fingers trace his lips and now followed by his eyebrows and mustache, he wants your hands elsewhere and everywhere. To distract himself, two of his fingers slip between your folds, soft hands are back in his hair with his mustache tickling your breast. His mouth has found your pebble of a nipple that it feels like he’s trying to swallow.

Both arms pull Din’s head to your chest, the sharp inhale of air before he’s buried in your body has you whining. The intensity of just two of his thick fingers have you close to your second orgasm but he removes them, a pop then a second as his mouth parts from your nipple. “Taste yourself, then you’ll come twice for me.” You extend your tongue, leaving yourself open for his fingers. Din’s eyes dilated, his hand moving in slow motion toward your mouth, watching as his two fingers covered in your slick pressed down on your moist tongue. Sealing your lips around his digits, you begin pushing your tongue between his fingers, breathy sighs leave your throat while your hands continue to roam Din’s head, nails razing his scalp. The Mandalorian moans your name, pressing his face into your stomach, nuzzling his face, nipping at your skin.

“Hold on tight for a moment, cyar'ika.” Drawing his hand back, the bounty hunter stands, you release his head and let your arms fall to your sides. “I’m going to lay down and you’ll sit cyar’ika.”

“Yes. Can I touch more of you Din? Just a bit.” The cot dips under his weight as he sits and lays down, his knuckles brush against your hip, letting you know he’s ready for you. He answers your question wordlessly, though you’re hopeful maybe one day you can have more of him. Using your hands, you feel the soft swell of his stomach under his flight suit and lower your palm, following what you imagine to be a trail of possible hair to where Din’s hardness is. He grabs your wrist, his grip loosening slightly but still prevents you from touching him.

“Not yet mesh’la. Right now is your time, not mine. Come sit for me, my face is growing cold.” He hears you huff as you move, your wide legs straddling him after moving beside his shoulders. You don’t sit yet, you can tease as well, hovering above his face, his breath warming your thighs again. Din chuckles and doesn’t force you down. He’ll wait and allow you to mount him at your own pace. Despite your lack of vision, you’re confident and he loves it, he knows you’re not delaying because you’re worried about harming him, your attempting to goad him into action is cute.

“You’re selfish Din. Next time, I want to give you the same treatment.” It’s here that you take your place and let him devour you from below. Unlike before, he doesn’t start with gentle licks and kisses, his tongue dove right past your entrance and circled your spongy walls, having you call his name promptly. Using your hips, you helped him reach deeper within you still as that glorious nose of his alternated between teasing your mound and your sensitive bud. He gorged himself on your swelling folds, hearing his growls had you cry out his name with your first peak. Din slowed his tongue, even pulling back his nose to gently kiss your glistening opening while the waves had you feeling every cell you had. “Give me…a moment Din. I…”

The plush flushed tip of his tongue pressed against your clit and you swore you felt him smiling. Muffled, “That was only one. You owe me a second. I’m remaining selfish for now. Show me the same courtesy during next time you mentioned.” You wanted to retort but only a whimper came out, your hips would not stop moving despite your core feeling like it wouldn't stop vibrating. What had he done to your cunt? If it didn’t feel as if you were going to float away as Din remained between your legs, you’d have told him no more, you can’t. But you can only moan and squeal as he continues his avid study, attempting to learn every zone within you he can during his first time with you.

“Dank farrik…Din…Din!!” Your puffy folds soaked your Mandalorian’s face once more, your vision turns white before fading back to black. Your palms catch you as you fall forward and lower yourself onto the cot before rolling off of Din’s face. He doesn’t relent, turning on his side, he sucks your slick off of your bruised flesh and parts your folds to give it a good night kiss, bending your knee, allows him more access and he’s tempted to keep going but he knows you can’t. Reaching for a blanket, he wraps it around your naked body before putting his arms around you, finding your lips so you can taste yourself once more.

Comfortable in his arms and feels safe with a satisfying ache between your legs, it marks a new chapter between the Mandalorian and you. There’s so much to tell him that running through your mind, but the silence is perfect after so many lewd noises shared on the Crest.

Next time won’t be so far off.

Space Buddies ☄️: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepillsjunior @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena-fics @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @604to647 @soft-girl-musings @syd-djarin @yourcoolauntie @survivingandenduring

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #a nerdy fic

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saturnianoracle · 10 days

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How to learn real astrology: what it is and is not

As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul.

It is VITAL that if you want to understand astrology properly, you come in with an open mind and forget everything you think you know. Especially, remove yoruself from the belief that astrology is some occultic mystical spiritual practice, and/or that it is solely some psychological tool.

I used to be quite the hater of astrology. None of it 'resonated', and it seemed like wishy washy hippie shit. In lockdown, astrology stuff kept coming onto my feed, and some of it made sense, but most still did not. I then initially wanted to debunk astrology. But when I properly stated looking into it, the deeper I went the more accurate it started to become. Equally, parts still remained highly inaccurate. But this was due to a mismatch of how 'influencers' out there synthesised and understood the traditional foundations of astrology and modern information. Thus, I committed myself to truly understanding astrology, and my life has significantly improved for it and I've only just started.

As an introductory post to what astrology really is, I have formatted it into the following sections: i. the problem with pop culture astrology, ii, the history of astrology, iii. how astrology works, and iv. where meaning in astrology comes from.

The problem with pop culture astrology

This is the type of astrology we see in newspaper horoscopes, online articles, tiktok viral posts, instagram horoscopes, etc.

This is borne out of the allure astrology holds for desperate individuals seeking an easy and quick answer to their life problems, and using it as a form of confirmation bias for hating their ex (for example). But this misuse of astrology will undoubtedly hit for most people, due to the barnum effect, but is ultimately inaccurate and those who think it true have now misleadingly correlated the pop culture reasons for why X happened to what astrology is.

The new moon in your 7th house is not a sign that your crush will leave his partner for you. Being a gemini sun does not mean you are a two faced, loyal-less individual. Having your sun sign the same as their venus sign does not mean you two are compatible. And so on and so forth.

Here are some key things to understand about astrology:

✎ Stop using co-star, and those websites which give you your astrology information like this:

-> This does not tell you anything remotely significant aside from standard archetypal and superifical meanings of having a sun in Sagittarius or whatever (which you might not even 'relate' to, because of a multitude of other factors this does not show). Your chart instead, should, at the very least look like this:

-> Even better, make a chart and add in decans, asteroids, and considers more aspects. Viewing your birth chart like this is essential for gaining a better understanding. Aspects are what brings everything in your chart together to give it more significant and individualised meaning, the houses and the angles are also explicitly identifiable this way. Also, always make sure your chart is in whole sign houses, I will make a post on this later on why, but you will have to go to settings for this as popculture astrology has made placidus the default (as well as other inaccurate takes).

✎ Sun sign is astrology is fake, no matter how much you think it resonates with you it is the wrong footing to base your understanding of astrology off of. Astrology is extremely complex, one thing might resonate for one person and not for another, because of house placements, condition of the planet, aspects to the planet, etc. Consequently, all basic and simplified delineations of a chart are unhelpful and will put you on the wrong footing for future proper readings you might wish to do. This is how astrology can be so inaccurate.

✎ Astrology is not about resonating. Although, this is a part of how we can test astrology, it is linked far too much with resonating with personality. Your birth chart is not a map of who you are specifically, we evolve all the time (as the universe, so the soul), it is a map of your entire life. It is a map of the sky and its energies the minute you were born. Some things you think you do not resonate with is because those energies have not yet played out in your life.

✎ Astrology is not a psychological tool, although it can give us insight into psychology when used and understood properly. Again, it is the blueprint of our life.

✎ Astrology is not spiritual. It is not a belief system, either. Although, one can use astrology to advance their spiritual practices.

✎ Free will exists. I will likely go into this in another post but the energies of our bith chart, solar return chart, profection year, progressed charts, transits etc, are merely indications of how things are likely to unfold. The energies are malleable within their themes' ambit, and it is up to us to decide how we choose to interpret what is/will happen and what to do with that information. A transit might indicate difficulty in a law suit, ok, how can I mitigate that then? What other charts, energies, and transits can I use? If I did not know of this then I would not know how to alter my behaviour to yield a better results, even if it might not mean a completely opposite result.

✎ Your natal chart will not show you everything. There are relocated charts, progressed charts, solar return charts, profection years, etc. All this goes into a holistic assessment. Your natal chart, however, will always remain the anchor of it all.

A brief history

Astrology is not some woo-woo, spiritual, new age, belief system. Astrology's history and use goes back to the Babylonians. It used to be intertwined with astronomy; Galielo and Kepler, for example, were simultaneously astrologers and practised it widely (even as court astrologers). People in positions of power have always consulted astrologers to time events, in the modern era many Royal families, celebrities, and politicans still consult astrologers. Carl Jung, JP Morgan, Nancy Reagan, and Roosevelt are examples of this. Of course, it might be argued that just because famous people have used/use astrology does not give it any more credit to which I say: ok please read my post below pls and ty xo.

Astrology's history has been relatively tumultuous, however. I have condensed this timeline from an article I found below:

- Astrology was a widely accepted practice but, in Europe, after the fall of the Roman empire and much of Europe, it fell into decline along with other disicplines. - The middle ages saw a renaissance of intellectualism with a particular focus on science and thus the astronomy part of it. This was largely due to the Church who viewed astrology as divination and going against free will. - However, in other parts of the world astrology was still a crucial element of daily life, and those in power would use astrologers to time events. - Astrology did re-enter the curriculum, though, in the 14th century, with a focus on being used for medical astrology in part due to the recently available Hippocratic Corpus. These texts were crucial to advancing our understanding of medicine, but Hippocrates emphasised that "a physician without knowledge of astrology has no right to call himself a physician". Astrologer still had a healthy dose of criticism back then, though. - Astrology was a major field of study in universities in Europe, well ingrained in daily life. - It died out in the 17th century, mostly due to the increasing emphasis on science being increasingly and misleadingly viewed as separate from astrology, the church, and astrologers falling into disrepute due to political involvement. - Its resurgence in the 19th century saw an oversimplified, and largely 'spiritualised' version of astrologer. This is because this period also saw an increased interest in the occult and mystic. - Since becoming conflated, astrology has become even further diluted, but this is not to say that every new discovery has been wrong; modern interpretation is crucial to informing the bigger picture of astrology and how we can utilise it. But it is vital to be critical and separate it from pop culture nonsense, aimed at lost and desperate people looking for quick answers and confirmation bias, and have some media literacy.

So, how does astrology work?

: ̗̀➛ Astrology has NOTHING to do with the physical constellations. Astrology is based on the signs on the ecliptic (the path of the sun amongst the constellations, which is the plane of the earth's orbit).

: ̗̀➛ However, the ecliptic has 15 constellations, not 12. This is because babylonians divided the ecliptic into 12 equal segments of 30 degrees each thousands of years ago. The physical constellations were just used to identify where in the sky each sign would be, at the time for ease of astronomical mapping/calculation - it is merely symbolic.

: ̗̀➛ Another reason why they are not based off the physical constellations is because the actual size of the constellations vary massively in size. Below is a representation of this:

: ̗̀➛ As you can see, Virgo, for instance is huge, and on a literal view overlaps into the next segment because the constellations do not all equally fit a 30 degree division. Yet, we do not give scorpio like 5 days for its season, because the physical constellation does not dictate anything meaningful.

: ̗̀➛ Opphiuchus is not a 13th zodiac sign, and it has been known for centuries. This is why there are not 15 zodiacs despite there being 15 constellations.

This gives us the tropical zodiac, which is to do with the earth's seasons:

: ̗̀➛ The solstices are therefore reference points for Capricorn and Cancer (tropic of capricorn and tropic of cancer), not the constellations themselves. Accordingly, the spring equinox is marked by Aries (with the sun entering the segment of Aries at 0 degrees until 29), and the autumn equinox by Libra.

: ̗̀➛ The precession of the equinoxes, are therefore irrelevant to astrology (and this is why vedic/sidereal is, in my opinion inaccurate). The slow change of the direction of the earth's axial tilt, over around 26000 years, cause a precession of the equinoxes. This means, the segment of the sky that used to be identified by the Aries constellation from the earth's position at the time, is now looking at Pisces. But as we know, astrology has nothing to do with the physical location of the constellations. Vedic astrologers use sidereal positioning, aka taking into account the precession of the equinoxes, yet they still divide the ecliptic in the same way. This causes problems, leading to many branches in vedic because few agree on where aries actually even starts. But, I will write an extension of this segment in a future post on tropical vs vedic/sidereal astrology.

Where does astrological meaning come from?

As explained above, constellations do not give us meaning, the planets in the signs do (of which the signs' names just derive from where the constellations were at the time, i.e. are merely symbolic).

Astrology operates in a heliocentric context, in that its setting is derived from the solstices (as the sun is what gives us life) and the ecliptic etc, but is geocentric in function in that the meaning comes from how the celestial bodies going through the signs affect us on earth; it is all about OUR relation to the planets, not constellations.

Returning to the quote above (as above so below...), what happens up up there reflects its energies down on us below. For thousands of millenia, astrologers have developed an accurate pattern recognition framework which aligns with the maths and astronomy. This was done using the ephemeris, which tracked the trajectory of celestial bodies against the context of worldly (mundane), or natal events. Eventually, this knowledge could be used for predictions, (to understand transits, or for electional and horary astrology), by utilising the knowledge of how the trajectories of the planets and their interactions with eachother in what sign and house affected what.

Why does it affect us? Well, all the things that happen above us radiate energies. But when I talk about energies, I do not mean it in some spiritual sense, it is quite literal. Everything has frequencies. As mentioned above, astrologers, since the Bablyonian times, have studied these patterns and created an objective framework to align with it. Physical energies or not there is direct causation. The moon for instance, affects the tides on the planet because of its gravitational pull. We are 70% water, there is little reason to deny that the moon cannot affect us either (it does). Perhaps you might understand your broken leg as because of being hit by a car. But astrology can assess the chart of the event, and transits to your own chart to provide further explanation of why you got hit by a car in the first place, and why it caused a broken leg etc. Subsequently, the energies of what happens above relate to the themes found in planets, signs, houses, aspects, asteroids etc - but these energies are not set in stone as explained above.

Ultimately, it is disappointingly small-minded to think that there is nothing 'greater' than the physical reality we tether ourselves to. We are in fact part of something bigger; and again I do not mean this in some culty spiritual hippy sense. It is literally a fact, the world and cosmos at large is so vast, mysterious, and beautiful, how could anyone deny the interconnected web we are all collectively a part of. We might never fully understand the mechanisms of the universe, but what we can do is use the information we do have to make use of it and help inform us on how to live better lives. The fact there is something 'greater' inherent in our lives, connecting everything, which is objectively difficult to truly grasp, is not a reason to reject it. A lot of people who are averse to astrology (which used to be me) are those who pride themselves on rationality and objectivity, yet are restricting themselves to a very particular interpretation of what rationality and objectivity means.

With all this said, I hope it has helped someone understand and appreciate astrology better. There is such a fascinating rich and deep history to it, spanning various cultures and eras, making it difficult to at least not enjoy learning about even if one still chooses to not practise it. I would like to reiterate, however, that to truly embrace astrology and its millenia of knowledge, evidence, and practice behind it, one must divorce its concept from pop culture astrology.

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piratefalls · 4 months

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i'm back with a header i like a lot more. this one's a little shorter than usual, but still has a little of everything. also, instead of individual links we've graduated to a masterlist!

masterlist.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by coffeecatsme

“I have a secret,” Alex whispers in his ear—he’s sprawled over Henry on the couch, calves and thighs and chests pressed together, breath washing over Henry’s skin. “I shouldn’t tell you.” “Oh?” Alex nods vehemently. “Can’t lose you,” he murmurs, fingertips on Henry’s face, and Christ that touch is deadly. “Can’t tell you I love you. You’d leave.” Henry stares. “Oh.”

i speak in grey (to match the shades on the inside of my brain) by sticktothescript

He spends all of that week researching what non-binary means, but he pointedly ignores the squirming feeling of excitement in his chest. He’s just curious, that’s all. That’s all it can be. He’s lived his whole life as a man. He’s the First Son. There’s no room for testing boundaries when the people need him. --- or; a 5+1 of Alex Claremont-Diaz exploring gender identity

And The Show Goes On by orestespdf

For the second time that evening, a hand suddenly smacks his shoulder. Henry looks up, expecting Philip, but instead he is greeted with a smarmy smile. Henry’s stomach drops at the sight of the man who stands behind him. “Christopher,” Philip laughs. His brother stands, and he and the man shake hands vigorously above Henry’s head. Henry wants to melt into his seat and disappear. “I’m so glad you could make it. Henry, you remember my mate, Christopher Lewis?” Henry stares down at the intricately folded napkin in front of him. Christopher Lewis: 2011 St Andrews graduate, former head of the Eton rugby club, excellent skier, wine aficionado. Seven years older than Henry. Green eyes. Nice shoulders. Yes, Henry remembers Christopher Lewis. He wishes he didn’t. After years of not seeing him, Henry runs into Philip's old friend again. Fallout ensues.

heartbeats under coats by HypnosTheory

Alex, a DC lawyer on his way back from a work trip, is stranded in New York after a freak blizzard grounds all flights. He gets the last available hotel room on the island, but a freak error means the room is double booked. Unwilling to leave the other stranded, both men agree to share the room and wait out the blizzard together.

don't just give it up. by smc_27

Alex checks the flight path for the 12th time this minute, and then rolls his eyes and groans. Amy, next to him, opens one eye. He apologizes wordlessly and tries to stop being so fucking antsy. Look. Look. He’s got something - someone - fucking perfect waiting for him across the Atlantic. If anyone knew what exactly he’s flying to, they’d speed the plane the fuck up and get him there.

this moment in time by rizcriz

She moves away from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you do, Alex?” He turns back to the table and puts his hands in his hair as he leans over the cup of coffee. “I made Henry a christmas card, and snuck it into his bag before he left for London.” “Okay?” “I may have used it as a vessel to confess my feelings for him.” He says it fast, almost too quickly to be understood, but June’s had a lifetime of translating Alex-speak, and he hears her quick intake of breath and pulls his hands from his hair to look over his shoulder at her. -- Or, it's a New Years to remember.

when the silence screams by teacupivy

Today, Henry comes home to a stillness that’s out of place in the usually bustling December air. It's only a little disconcerting. or Alex is incredibly frustrated with the state of life and Henry offers to get on his knees.

i dream of our odyssey by violetbaudelairequagmire

Alex rests his elbows on the counter of the small cafe attached to Bankston’s Books, enjoying the quiet period in between the morning stay-at-home-mom-crying-toddler storytime crowd and the rush of college students that appear in the afternoon. It’s only a couple hours, but it’s nice to have that time with just a few black coffees in between the rush of “pumpkin spice latte and a cakepop” and “quad shot espressos and keep them coming” that dominate the busy periods at the bookstore. He’s not complaining though- he loves this job. He gets a discount on books, no one cares how much coffee he drinks in a shift, and, in the last couple of weeks, he’s had a great view of the new guy quietly shelving books. it's a bookstore au!

Shatter Me by politics_and_prose

Henry is resigned to the life he's meant to lead until he meets a man so full of happiness and life that he's got no choice but to confront the secret he's been keeping for years.

Singularity by OrchidScript

"Henry didn’t try to resist. He’d lost his capacity for it the moment his scruffy looking nerf herder had stood in the White House press room and called Henry his choice. Under the onslaught of purposeful dragging of fingernails, featherlight touches under tables, the pink-bitten promise of more, Henry abandoned all defense. He willingly succumbed to his fiancé’s heated breath and honeyed words." The boys find inspiration in a hotel room armchair.

In Every Universe by clottedcreamfudge

Alex and Henry will find each other in every universe. A series of either explicitly or implicitly soulmate-themed AUs, which are all heading in one very specific direction.

You Remind Me of Home by athousandrooms & ifyoustay

Henry had taken the news that he was being summoned to England early much worse than Alex had. He'd left him with a million apologies on his lips. Alex had swallowed them all with a parting kiss and the promise of seeing him on the 23rd, knowing full well that no matter how much as much as he wished to, he couldn’t afford to travel with him during finals season of his first year of Law School. It's been a week, and Alex... Alex would give anything to have Henry here. But, all's well that ends well, as they say.

well we're not here to fuck ducks by stutteringpeach

Henry is looking for someone to help him with his duck study. He makes quite a serious typo in his 'All Staff' email.

with my name on your lips, tell me how does it taste by viciouslyqueer

“I don’t think anyone will be offended if two... very close friends decide to try it out, H. I certainly won’t.” Alex laughs when Henry fixes him with a half-hearted glare. “And you felt the need to track me down and show me this on a random Tuesday morning because...” Henry trails off with a perfectly arched brow. It’s infuriatingly attractive. Alex braces himself on the table and leans in, stopping with his mouth an inch away from Henry’s ear. He can almost hear him holding his breath. “Because I want to take my time with you, sweetheart,” Alex whispers sweetly. “And this is the perfect opportunity.”

Don't - Don't You Want Me? by absoluteaudacity

Alex is bad at communicating sometimes.

(you might be) someone i could love by weather_stained

(...or you're just somebody I fucked once.) After Henry has an anonymous one-night stand at a party, he can't stop thinking about the boy with the beautiful brown eyes and messy curls. Months later, Pez scores them an invitation to spend Thanksgiving weekend with June Claremont-Diaz, her girlfriend, and her brother, at her family's lakehouse. It could be the second chance he's been looking for, or he could be stuck hopelessly pining for someone who only ever wanted sex.

Locked In by allmylovesatonce

After their night together in Paris, Henry and Alex get quarantined in their hotel, locked in for two full weeks.

hours by demigodbeautiies

Although the White House is fast, the British press is faster. It has to be a leak. An accident. A screw up. There's no way a story like this would be allowed to break if anyone had actual control over the situation. Perhaps the entire headline is wrong, and the agonising lurch in Henry's stomach is for nothing. He reads it again. BREAKING: Son of US President Ellen Claremont abducted, held hostage. Watch for LIVE updates.

Forty-Four Days by bleedingballroomfloor

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up. Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and — And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

Hope is a Five-Alarm Fire by AnchoredArchangel

“I’m just saying- we know you, Alejandro. I've ran the odds and with your personal history of decision-making and impulse control, there’s a less than four percent chance you of all people didn’t shoot your shot. Even if he’s in the closet. Even if he’s supposedly straight. Even if he’s a prince. You love a good story.” Doesn’t he ever. Too bad he’s never going to get the chance to tell this one. Or: Alex returns to real life after crossing the actual Prince of England off his totally superfluous valid No Consequences Sex List. It does not go quite like he expected.

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me by @sparklepocalypse

After the Kensington confrontation, Henry gets on the plane with Alex. (Or, Henry and Alex join the Mile High Club in filthy, spectacular fashion.)

Shameless by everwitch

Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student. Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

3/4ths Cup of Love by inexplicablymine

“What the fuck are you doing with my pinto beans?” “It says I need them for pie weights.” “Hell no, baby, sweetheart. Over my dead body are you using the beans I use for mole for your quiche recipe. I would like us to eat these.” “Hey!” “If you put my beans in the oven, I will make it so you can’t possibly ever put a bun in the oven.” “Noted.” Or, The ups and downs of Henry learning how to perfect his quiche recipe.

A Practical Arrangement by kiwiana

“I know.” In fairness, he didn’t ask his mom to delay the wedding after the betrothal was made official when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t that she expected another option to materialise—he’s pretty sure she was trying to give him and Henry more time to get to know each other, maybe move past their open animosity a little. They’ve been pushed together every few months for the last three years, their marriage an inevitability. “I just… I still can’t quite get my head around it, you know? Married. To Henry.”

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #rwrb rec list

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mitsies · 1 year

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LUCKY ONES ! ; itoshi rin > it's colder than you expected on your walk home from school.

you’re lucky for a lot of reasons.

you got a really good score on your maths test when everyone else got not-so-wonderful marks despite having hardly studied this past tuesday. you found a crisp, fresh 5-dollar bill on the floor when you’d been just that amount short on buying yourself sushi for lunch. and you were dating your high school’s sensation, itoshi rin. he was pretty cool too, you could concede.

you and said boyfriend were walking home from school now. you ran your mouth about something and he nodded and asked questions like the dutiful partner you’d trained him to be. a thin layer of frost encased the world around the both of you as you travelled throughout the stillness of the setting. rin held both his schoolbag and your own with impressive ease, on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street despite the fact that no cars were coming through the sleepy little neighbourhood you lived in. it was a practised tradition, the one that happened every day rin didn’t have football after school. he’d meet you and the both of you would walk to your place to complete your homework together.

this was the first day in a while it’d been so cold, though, and you hadn’t anticipated the bite of autumn so far from the end of summer. a breeze bites your exposed shoulders and you shiver a little. rin glances over at you.

“cold?”

“i’ve never been cold in my life”

“uh-huh. and you're sure that's true?”

“truest thing i’ve ever said. i don’t lie.”

your boyfriend side-eyes you again and you beam over at him. “tell that to your history teacher.”

“mrs. sato adores me. she’d never believe that i’m a liar.”

“have you ever done an assignment for that class without cheating?”

you purse your lips. “i don’t lie,” is all you say, and you watch his face break into a half-smile.

“okay. so are you cold?”

“..maybe a little,” you admit, crossing your arms over your chest to try and preserve your warmth. rin stops walking, and you pause curiously as he lets your bag fall to the ground. “show me your hands.”

it’s less of a question and more of a gentle command, and you oblige. his own hands are rough and calloused with time and use, but hot against your cold fingertips. he handles you with great care, probably more so than you need. bringing your frosty palms up to his mouth as he exhales, effectively warming not only your hands but your face as you feel a hot rush of blood at his act of intimacy. his face splits into another grin at your expression as you pull away. he takes your bag and slings it across his shoulder next to his own before asking, “better?”

you frown at him. “you’re ran through. i should leave you.”

“finally.”

you glare at your boyfriend and he lets out a laugh. hearing the itoshi rin laugh might be a rare occasion to anyone else, but to you, it’s a sound you’ve heard many times. despite that, you don’t think that you could ever get sick of it, not ever. that was maybe another reason you were lucky— you got to see a side of him that no one else was privy to.

the thought fills you with a stupid, childish kind of giddiness. you got to see rin laugh. you got to see him smile. he did those things for you. the surge of affection leads you to take his free hand in your own, squeezing tight once and then twice. it’s his turn to fluster and stiffen at your actions, face tinting pink against the paleness of the sky.

“you cold?” your voice is teasing and your eyes twinkle as he stares straight ahead, avoiding your gaze.

“no.”

“you sure? your face is kind of red,” you state, pointing with your free hand. scowling, he swats your finger away and you’re left laughing, using your still-linked hands to pull him into you so he bumps against your hip gently.

luck wasn’t foreign to you, not with your good grades in maths and your even good-er graces with your history teacher, and your found five bucks and everything in between. yeah, you were lucky for a lot of reasons, but right now, as you walk home in quiet conversation with itoshi rin, you think you’re luckiest of all for having him.

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event with the prompts "are you cold?" "no, why?" "your face is really red." + them trying to warm up your hands when it’s cold outside

[⇥3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥3K EVENT INFO]

#itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #rin x reader #mitsies 3k

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nocasdatsgay · 16 days

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Spring Time Affairs

Day three of @polyacotarweek : Secrets

Summary: Flora likes to rile her husband up, especially if it means she gets to play with Elain in the process.

MasterPost | Poly Week Master Post| AO3 Link

Pairings: Tamlin/OC/Elain/Lucien | Rating: E🌶️| Word Count: 1890

Warnings: smut

A/N: relationships should never have to be a secret. Pretending it is for the thrill however, that is acceptable.

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @ysmtttty

Flora should have been ashamed of herself. Should bring the operative word. But the way Elain’s thigh was shaking where it was draped over her shoulder, she could only focus on bringing her over the edge. How she ended up kneeling under Elain’s pale yellow skirts in the small library on the east end was irrelevant.

Elain was whimpering above her as she sucked and swirled her tongue on her clit just like she liked. Stubborn, she thought. Elain was deliberately fighting her orgasm. Flora knew it. She stopped thrusting her fingers and instead wiggled the pads of them, pressing on that spot that had Elain crying out above her. She grinned as Elain came, damn near soaking her face and hand. Flora licked it all up, pleased when Elain started to push her away because it was too much.

“I swear you stay under her skirts more than I do.”

Lucien’s voice startled her as she pulled away and moved to stand. He was grinning wickedly at his mate, who Flora was pleased to see had a flush on her face and was still catching her breath.

“I can’t help it,” Flora made a show of licking one of her fingers. “She tastes so good.”

“You’re lucky Tamlin is looking for you,” Lucien said. He did look ready to bend her over the table behind her. His gaze turned to his mate. “You are a wicked little female.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Lucien?” Elain straightened her skirt with her palms.

Flora’s eyebrows shot up. Elain always flirted by riling Lucien up. And the best way to do so was to address him formally. Flora learned that herself the hard way.

“Flora, lock the door,” Lucien did not look at her as he spoke. “I think I need to have a conversation with my mate about inappropriate uses of the mating bond.”

Flora did not suppress her grin. “Of course. Have fun.”

She left, shutting the door and waving her hand to lock it. She tried to not giggle at the squeal she heard Elain let out as she went down the hallway. She went to her husband’s office first. He was normally there most of the day nearing the end of the year months. Sure enough, Tamlin was at his desk, looking over papers. He looked up as she entered and shut the door.

“Lucien said you were looking for me?”

She walked past the chairs and his desk to sit on the table against the window behind him. It was a test; he knew that. She could tell he knew by the way he rose from his chair and turned to her with a predatory look. She smoothed out the skirts of her sky blue dress. He came up to her, nudging her legs open with his own, his nostrils flaring as he leaned into her.

“You smell like Elain. Gods, were you in the library again?”

“Maybe.” She grinned and watched him plant both of his hands on the table, caging her in.

“Wild flower.” Tamlin growled in her ear. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“Why would I do that?”

Tamlin took one hand and pushed up her skirts further so he could stand between her open legs, forcing them to spread further. He pulled back and stood straighter.

“Because you’re a minx,” he tilted up her chin. Green eyes blown black. “I don’t even remember why I called you in here.”

Flora hummed as he tucked a loose golden brown curl behind her ear.

“What a Lady of Spring you are, smelling like another male’s mate. What would the servants think?”

So that was the game they were playing. The ‘pretend the whole court doesn’t know’ game. Flora liked this game, if only because Tamlin could pretend to be possessive.

“Fuck the servants,” she gasped.

He gripped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the table and pressed his body against her. The bulge of his pants rubbing against her. Her underwear was already soaked from playing with Elain. She whined and pouted when he pulled back. A hand on her thigh inched up under her skirt until a claw hooked her underwear. She lifted her rear up so he could pull them off. He scowled as the blue lacy scrap of cloth came into view.

“Who bought you these? It wasn’t me.” He lifted them higher to look at them better. “They’re too slutty for my tastes.” A lie.

She bit her lip. He knew who, but he wanted her to say it. “Lucien.”

His gaze narrowed on her as he tossed the underwear aside. “You want them to know what a little whore you are.”

“No,” she shook her head.

“You do.” He tsked at you. “This is the third time this month I’ve caught you smelling like them. Do you want the court to think I can’t satisfy my wife?”

She almost snorted. Instead, she feigned shock. “No!”

“But you do. They don’t know our little secret, do they? They just see you, walking around and smelling like this. Makes you look unfaithful. Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”

She tried to not grin or seem too excited as he unlaced his trousers. He reached up and grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes sir.”

He let go of her chin and his trousers fell to the floor. She looked down and watched him stroke his hard length, the core of her clenching at the thought of what was about to happen. She inhaled as he stepped close to her, wanting nothing more than for him to take her.

“What did you do with Elain?”

Flora looked up, mouth agape. “I- I was under her skirts. I used my mouth.”

Tamlin reached around and grabbed the back of her head, not undoing her braids but holding her still as he pressed his lips to hers. She let his tongue in and he growled while he probed around. He could taste Elain still on her lips and tongue. Flora did not move. He pulled back. He said nothing; only stroked himself once more before pushing into her heat.

Flora fell back on both her hands, head also falling back as she let out a moan. He gave her no time to adjust, not that she minded. She was content to let him take what he wanted from her. Tamlin had other plans.

“Look at me,” a command, laced with the authority of Spring. She lifted her head up, eyes wide open. “Who do you belong to?”

”You.” She whimpered with each thrust, his length hitting that spot inside her. “You, Tamlin.”

He growled again. “And what are our rules?”

”We, fuck, we keep- Tam,” She wrapped her leg around his waist. “We keep it secret.” Another lie.

“Exactly.” He thrusted into her harder, stroking the pleasure in her higher. “What we do in our bedroom is no one’s concern but our own.”

“Yes, Tamlin.”

“If you’re going to smell like sex during the day, you’ll smell of me.”

“Yes sir,” she cried out. “Only you.”

Tamlin sank his teeth into her neck, causing her to arch against him and yell with her eyes rolling back. He then pulled back and licked at the bite. Her legs tightened around his waist again while he continued to thrust into her, one of her hands going into his blond hair.

Then the doorknob turned and for a moment her heart stopped. She moved her hand and slapped it over her mouth, crying out as she came suddenly.

“Am I interrupting?”

It was Lucien, the bastard. He had the audacity to look innocent as he slipped into the room and shut the door. She was still pulsing around Tamlin, who stopped to look at him.

“What?” He asked, breathing heavily. As if his trousers weren’t around his ankles with his cock buried in his wife.

“The emissary from Summer is here.” Tamlin growled and Lucien grinned. “I just wanted to inform you, High Lord.”

“Get the fuck out and don’t think I won’t punish you for bothering me.”

“Maybe you should punish your wife, since she came the second she thought she was caught.” His eyes flashed at her as he grinned. “I know what you sound like when you cum, Flora.”

“Get out Lucien.” She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you just with Elain?”

Lucien clasped his hands behind his back. “Elain is a bit tied up at the moment. I can have you join her if Tam wants.”

“Get. Out.”

Command laced Tamlin’s snarling tone. Lucien didn’t drop his grin but exited as requested. Tam threw out magic, locking the door. He turned back to her with a look in his eye. In quick movements, he pulled out of her, pulled her off the table, stood her on her feet and pushed her down across the table. Her skirts were thrown up onto her back and she gasped when he smacked his hand hard against her rear.

“Naughty girl.” He kicked her feet apart and smacked her across her wet cunt. “I didn’t tell you to cum.”

“I’m sorry Tam.” She stood on her toes, hoping he’d do that again. When he did, she moaned loudly, clenching around nothing. “Are you going to punish me?”

“I should.”

She heard him shuffle and felt him push his length back into her. He pulled her upright to be flush against him so he could whisper in her ear.

“You and Lucien both have been so bratty. But I have a meeting. So I’m going to finish fucking you and when I’m done, you’re going put those slutty little panties back on and let my seed drip out your cunt for the rest of the day so everyone knows who the Lady of Spring belongs to.”

“Please.”

He chuckled in her ear, pulling his hips back to thrust up into her. A clawed hand came around her throat while his arm wrapped around her waist as he continued. It didn’t take long for him to finish, growling in her ear as he did so. When he pulled out, she squeezed her legs together and waited. She straightened out her skirts and waited while he pulled up and fixed his trousers.

“Look at my good girl,” he chuckled, coming up beside her to hand her the panties he’d pulled off.

Flora didn’t say anything as she carefully stepped into them and pulled them up. She shivered as she felt his cum slip out of her slowly after she unclenched her legs. She turned to him, batting her eyes innocently at her husband.

“May I be dismissed, High Lord?”

“By the cauldron you make it difficult.” He came up to her, grabbing her by the hair to press his lips to hers before pulling away. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she pressed a quick kiss to his lips one last time. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

She waited by the door until he threw out his magic, unlocking it. She slipped out as if nothing happened and headed straight for Lucien and Elain’s bedroom. Lucien dropped that information for a reason when he barged in and she was about to make use of it.

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d3 #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #tamlin #OC acotar #tamlin x oc #Tamlin x Flora #elucien #poly week acotar #Spring Time Affairs

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000marie198 · 2 months

Text

Beats till the song disappears

......

Classic era, Sonic 2's bad ending timeline but I made it better. Or worse. Leaving for you to decide. Enjoy :)

...........

He trudged through the dark zone, silent and windless akin to a closed, lifeless chamber.

The place was littered with systematically arranged crystal blocks that would've looked aesthetically pleasing if it were daytime. For now, they just made the place more eerie as he waited for Robotnik to show up.

After what felt like an eternity of worried pacing to the speedy hedgehog but in reality was barely a couple of minutes, two of the structures nearby split apart, revealing a camouflaged panel sliding in the ground.

Sonic stopped, facing the opening to see the Eggmobile rise from the underground, hovering a meter or so above the inclined floor leading into the depth.

The doctor looked composed, unworried, his spectacles glinting with a previously absent touch of confidence, of victory.

"Did you bring them?" He asked, addressing the frustrated hedgehog.

Sonic revealed four emeralds without a word, pulling them away as the other tried to grab for them.

"Tails?"

"Hand them over first."

Sonic was about to retaliate but paused at seeing the other hover a finger over the mobile's control panel, staring straight at him with the unspoken threat clear in his body language. He could kill the kit if Sonic wasn't careful.

His thoughts conflicting with one another and the concern for his little brother chiming in, he finally relented, holding out the gems for the mobile's claws to grab.

"Now tell me where he is."

"Careful, hedgehog, you don't get to make demands here. I believe we had an agreement that he'll be spared only if you brought all five Chaos Emeralds, hmm?"

Silence fell over the terrain, the hero shooting a venomous glare at Robotnik. It would be too much of a gamble to attack him when he had a link open to wherever he was keeping Tails. His lack of acknowledgement to the earlier question was answer enough. He hadn't been able to collect the required number of emeralds on time.

"I see," the scientist murmured.

Sonic gritted his teeth, high strung, on edge. He was aware he had failed but he needed to know...

"Just tell me if my brother is alright."

"He is," the other sighed in an exaggerated display of disappointment, "I would've gotten rid of him by now provided your ineptitude-"

"You know I can't locate them all this fast!" Sonic snarled, looking seconds away from jumping at his throat.

"But I am feeling rather... merciful today," the man continued on without even reacting to the interruption, his demeanor betraying he held all the cards. "I propose another deal, hedgehog. If you agree, I promise that no harm will come to Tails."

Sonic shouldn't trust him. Didn't trust him. But if it meant Tails would be safe...

He nodded, signalling to Robotnik that he was listening. Said scientist smirked under his mustache.

"Become part of my legion. Surrender yourself to me, and your little friend will go unharmed."

His legion. The hero had fought against him enough times, had seen enough horrors and rescued enough critters being used as test subjects to read between the lines, to know what Robotnik meant. The mere mention of that thing still makes him sick. Robotnik wasn't asking him to just give up his freedom. He was demanding for Sonic to give up his mind and body, his free will, in the worst way possible.

Sonic's life or Tails' safety?

It took him less than a second to choose.

"Well?" Robotnik's voice prompted, already knowing his nemesis' decision.

"If you hurt Tails-"

"Oh don't be so leery. I gave you my word. Your fox friend will not be harmed. Now, do we have a deal or do I signal my bots to neutralize that menace?"

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with a plethora of emotions he couldn't bring himself to grasp and process as they came and went in waves. He gasped in a breath and stilled, before coiled tension leaked away from his body and he sighed. Surrendered.

"Deal."

"Excellent!" He could hear the victorious grin in Robotnik's voice but he didn't react, unable to bring himself to look up, gaze fixed on his red and white sneakers as he willingly sealed his fate. His iconic shoes held his focus, shoes that allowed him his freedom to run as fast as his heart desired. The same freedom which he was now volunterily giving up for his brother.

It felt like just yesterday when he had met the little guy, his shoes very smilar to Sonic's own, a matching color scheme. Something he had never paid attention to before but was now a glaring memory. He hadn't even told Tails how much he cared for him, how much proud he was, had he?

If he were to be given a chance to speak with Tails, he'd never remain silent again.

His feet moved without his consent, following the rotound man into the underground base until he blinked out of his thoughts and found himelf in a lab, facing a tall glass cylinder strung up in the center of the circular space.

It stood empty, it's front open, waiting to be occupied. Sonic stared on, unable to look away.

"Now don't be shy, step into the capsule. Chop chop!"

A hair's breath pause and he stepped forward, inside the glass confinement and upon the platform inside, fully resigning himself to what he had agreed on. His breath shuddered with anguish and dread as Robotnik moved around it to the front and pressed a switch.

The glass sealed behind him with a decisive click.

Adrenaline shot through his veins as the machine hummed to life, lights glowing awake below the platform he stood on and the welded hatch above him.

His heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, quills pricking up but he held still, letting the titanium clamps reaching for him seal around his ankles and wrists.

He saw Robotnik clicking away at a nearby screen and then he felt a subtle jerk, the machine's hum increasing in volume and intensity, the platform under him rising up.

With one final click at the keyboard, sleek contraptions that looked suspiciously like a sci-fi mixture of scanner and blaster surrounded him and pulsing rays shot out from their openings.

Sonic grunted as he felt the energy strike him, the clamps keeping him still.

It started from below, at the legs. Of course it fucking did. Sonic wanted to scream, wanted to yell and kick and bang his fists against the glass, feeling cold numbness slowly spreading up his most powerful weapons, his legs, his speed, stripped from him painstakingly slowly as flesh turned to metal.

All he did was clench his fists and grit his teeth in anguish, his whole being screaming at him to move but he held still. He couldn't move, not if it placed his first friend, his best friend, at risk.

28%

The titanium bands securing his ankles and wrists seemed to tighten, restricting the little bit of movement he had as the rays slowly climbed up to his torso, inches below his heart.

He didn't let the tears show.

For Tails for Tails for Tails for Tails

His thoughts chanted like a mantra, placing all his being into not moving, letting himself be turned into a machine, until his ears swivelled at the swoosh of a panelled door sliding open, urging him to look up.

His breath caught in his throat, each cell freezing up in a mixture of shock, rage and despair.

No. No no no no no no no no NO!

"TAILS!" The anguished wail left his chest just as his heart stopped beating, an engine's hum replacing its frantic rhythm.

He payed it no mind. It didn't matter when it was ripped to shreds anyway the moment his blurry gaze met his brother's.

Glowing red optics stared back.

He tried to move, tried to break free but it made no difference, half his body frozen on the spot, under the control of the Chaos forsaken monster who did this.

65%

The bands on his wrists burned, something warm and damp flowed down his palms and dripped from his fingers. Sonic was numb to it, struggling and shaking in the glass confine, his own screams becoming muffled to his ears.

"You promised! YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

A screen beeped, the vitals' charts on it going haywire as the progress bar reached 78%.

The mustached scientist just stood there grinning, unconcerned and victorious.

"And I kept my promise. He is unharmed, well and alive." The words seemed to echo in his head, reverberating as if imprinting on the walls of his mind, the machine's buzz and hum drowned out by them. "Just as you asked, rodent."

He couldn't take his pained eyes off of the small yellow robot and his captor noticed that, turning to address Tails with a deceptively encouraging smile.

"Isn't that right, Metal Tails?"

The little robot finally moved, startled beeps escaping it as it's mechanical gaze shifted away from hyperfocusing on Sonic and towards what it's systems told it to be it's creator.

The familiar innocence in that small gesture, even though seeing it on a roboticized mecha, broke something in Sonic.

He tried to call out to his brother but realized he couldn't speak. He couldn't feel his muzzle or mouth anymore. Oh...

The screen read 96%.

As the metal climbed up his quills and ears and the world began to fade into static, Sonic drowned out Eggman's smug grin and droning of the roboticizer's rays, putting all that was left of his mind and strenght into focusing on Tails.

He wanted his last memory to be of his brother, even if no longer flesh and blood but mere metal and wires, he was still Tails. His Tails. That much was clear from its demeanor alone, the innocence, the curiosity, the intelligence, it was all there. Sonic would be able to tell his kid apart from a thousand other Tailses if he had to.

The tears he'd been holding back finally slipped down, the last piece of his humanity used into conveying to Tails that he was sorry, that he loved him.

99%

His eyes closed, the metal covered up the last of the organic cells and Sonic finally went still.

............

Metal Tails gazed upon the powering down capsule, his processors showing the progress bar having reached 100%.

He couldn't take his focus off of the inactive hedgehog; organic, mechanical, irrelevant, Metal Tails was drawn to him even before the roboticization was completed.

Something suspiciously illogical was recorded in his archives during the process. He had sensed what organics refer to as emotions being conveyed to him earlier by the same being. It seemed to be a combination of concern, remorse and affection.

How could he do that without any working signal and communication link to Metal Tails?

The roboticized hedgehog suddenly beeped awake, internal fans whirring as his systems rapid-fire processed the new programming and commands. He jerked within the bonds and stilled again, hanging limp for a long beat.

Metal Sonic lifted his head up, optical processors switching on to reveal glowing red optics staring straight into Metal Tails' own.

It appeared the other robot was finally awake.

Metal Tails couldn't calculate why the organic hedgehog had seemed to know about him but he had felt drawn to the blue being just the same.

Perhaps it was a satisfactory calculation on his creator's part as Metal Tails' tended to get lonely and this arrangement made him most pleased.

Another robot companion made for the perfect promised gift.

.................

No characters were killed in the making of this story, just as I promised :]

#i am sleepy #author is sleep deprived #anyways Happy Sunday everyone #this is my counterattack #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #miles tails prower #dr eggman #dr robotnik #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #angst war weekend #plz if there r any errors ignore them I'll recheck them in the morning #cw body modification #i rather like this au. i might just add nore to it :D

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avesque · 1 year

Text

THE GREAT WAR I: bruised like violets — tsu’tey

— when accompanying dr. augustine, norm spellman, and jake sully to explore the pandoran forest, you and sully become separated from the group. you barely survive the night before a na’vi woman rescues you.

INCLUDES fem!reader, dreamwalker!reader. mentions of tom’s (jake’s twin) medical history and death + his (purely platonic! brotherly!) relationship with reader, near death experiences. 3.7k words.

NOTE my knuckles were WHAT? 🎤 for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let us pretend time dilation is not a thing because that complicates all sense of logic in this fic’s timeline.

SERIES MASTERLIST | part ii

The familiar darkness of the link unit’s space shrouds you as you open your eyes, mind still reeling despite your countless ventures in your Avatar. Pushing the link’s cover open, you slowly sit up, wiping the sweat lining your forehead.

Dr. Max Patel greets you with a clipboard in hand.

“Grace is waiting for you.”

Your eyebrows jump. “Did she see me and Txur’ii shoot Sari seeds at the other kids again?”

Dr. Patel steps back, gasping, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You said you’d stop doing that!”

“They started picking on him again!”

Txuri’ii is the Na’vi kid you almost plowed into the first time you tested your Avatar. He’s smaller compared to other Na’vi boys his age; a little thinner than usual too. It’s the reason you didn’t immediately see him that first time. He’s grown to be the source of entertainment for the other Na’vi kids, picking on him and bullying him.

When you learned of this, you dragged the kid and gathered all uncollected Sari seeds you could find. Borrowing two straws from the lab, you then hid behind the bushes as you preyed on Txur’ii’s tormentors.

You showed him as you stuffed the Sari seeds in your mouth and brought the straw to your lips. As the tallest of the bullies turns his back in your direction, you blow a seed through the straw, hitting the kid on his nape.

Txur’ii’s delighted squeak almost gave away your hiding spot.

One time, Dr. Augustine caught you and Txur’ii, and she berated you like a little kid when you got back in the lab.

You jump down the link unit, fixing your rumpled up shirt. You bid Dr. Patel goodbye, squashing down your smile with a finger to your lips and an obnoxious “shh.”

There’s a familiar face in Dr. Augustine’s vicinity. You stop short in your tracks, squinting your eyes as if that will help you understand the situation better.

You glide your palms over the edges of tables as you wade closer to where he’s talking with Dr. Augustine and Spellman in a wheelchair.

Last you heard, he’d been caught in a mugging incident. No one wanted to talk to you about it and the rumors you’ve heard said he was in a coma.

You suppose those were that — rumors, since he’s here, in the flesh, right in front of you. But what the hell happened?

“Tommy?”

You seem to have interrupted Dr. Augustine’s litany. All three of them turn their heads toward you and you get a perfect view of his face. He looks so different; definitely a lot more mature with the scruff. With your eyes trained on Tommy, you don’t see Spellman’s forlorn gaze as the realization dawns upon him.

“It’s — Jake, actually,” Tommy says. He offers a hand to you. “Jake Sully.”

Jake Sully.

Your eyes flit back to the head scientist, noting the way her eyes are quite softer than usual. Her cigarette hangs forgotten between her fingers.

“Another Sully?” you murmur. You recall Tommy mentioning a twin brother back when you were still on Earth but never meeting him in person.

He has exactly the same features as him but he doesn’t have Tommy’s calm and friendly aura. You don’t know if that’s the reason he kind of irks you suddenly or it’s something else.

You prop your hands to your waist, looking around. “Where’s Tommy? Has he recovered?” He hasn’t returned your video calls. Just last week, you tried contacting him again, hoping he’s woken up. All you received was an automated response, which made sense if he was traveling halfway through the solar system in cryo, though you would have preferred if he sent you a little heads up.

Jake Sully’s eyebrows reconnect, quizzically looking at the two scientists before saying, “Tommy’s dead.”

A sigh is caught in your throat. You want to ask him to repeat that but if you once again hear what you thought you just heard, you don’t know how you’ll be able to take it.

“Right.” You clear your throat, swallowing the lump that’s making your eyes burn. “Yeah, of course, I knew that.”

The sarcasm makes the dents in his forehead deeper, tilting his head to the side as he watches you.

“How do you—?”

“I gotta get back,” you suddenly announce, already walking away. You don’t bother sparing them another glance as you walk out of the laboratory, a lone tear trailing down your cheek. You’re quick to put your exopack on, a humorless chuckle escaping your lips at the betrayal choking you the way not even the Pandoran air could.

You’re evasive of the other scientists for the past week. Even in your Avatar form, you avoid any interaction with Dr. Augustine and other Avatar drivers.

Their silence about Tommy’s death makes something ugly curl in your stomach. You haven’t seen him since you were 14. Your stubborn mind refuses to accept what Jake Sully said about Tommy because that is just impossible. If anyone deserves to live the longest life they could on this godforsaken moon, or even back there on Earth, it would have been Tommy.

Tommy, who you basically grew up with. Despite being under the Colonel’s wing, there still wasn’t much to life. It was only then that Tommy started hanging out with you did you come out of your shell.

“Y/N!”

Dr. Patel’s familiar voice cuts through your peace. He jogs over to you, worn clipboard in hand. You don’t think he has ever put that thing down. It looks three seconds away from disintegrating.

“Grace is looking for you.”

You say nothing but follow the scientist back to the lab. Inside, you see Jake Sully, Dr. Augustine, and Spellman huddled together.

Dr. Augustine greets you before gesturing towards Sully. “Marine’s coming with us.”

You raise your eyebrows, making an effort to not look at any of them.

“For the research,” she adds. “Norm’s coming too.”

You say nothing as you move and get ready, settling in your own unit. You see Spellman give Dr. Augustine a withering look and you roll your eyes.

To your left is the other Sully’s link unit. You watch as he methodically hauls himself up the machine, lifting his upper body first before hooking his arms under his knees to position his legs.

As you settle and close your eyes, you wonder how he ended up like that.

Spellman’s excited chatter grates at your ears. Tommy used to be like that. It was what you bonded over in the first place. And usually, you’d be more than happy to be out here with Dr. Augustine but you’ve been off-kilter ever since Jake Sully ceremoniously dropped the news.

The forest of Pandora is still a wonder to you despite residing here for the past six years. Though Dr. Augustine had been here much longer than you have, her stacks of files are endless about the Pandoran flora and fauna. It seems like the moon spits out new species every single day.

You huff as the two scientists crouch over a braid of roots, injecting a needle to see the synapses transmit on the small screen Spellman holds. You turn around and realize Sully is nowhere to be found.

Your company is too preoccupied with their discovery so you leave them be, following the ruffles of footsteps against fallen leaves. Pulling back a giant leaf, it reveals Jake Sully tapping away on a bunch of Helicoradian plants.

You don’t make yourself known, watching from the sidelines as a smile spreads across the man’s face. Sully is more… tolerable, you’d say, in his Avatar form. Though the aura you cannot place is still emanating off him, he also has that air of innocence.

You startle as the walls of Helicoradian vanish from his ministrations and instead reveal a crash of Hammerhead Titanotheres, one of which notices your acquaintance and releases a loud cry. They’re like giant rhinoceros, a spattering of blue and purple with thick armor.

You curse under your breath, stepping forward to get closer to him but still hidden from the animal.

“Don’t shoot!” you bark when you notice him grip his gun, finger on the trigger. “Don’t you dare shoot, Sully! That’s got armor thicker than your skull.”

The Titanotheres rakes its foot on the forest floor before charging, letting out another cry, leaving a flurry of dust in its wake. You’re helpless and frozen on your spot as Jake Sully stands his ground, leveling the giant’s cry with a shout of his own.

This seems to deter the animal, skidding to a stop. You think it whimpers. Sully is as surprised as you.

“You son of a bitch!” he spits. He huffs out a laugh and you grimace at the air of arrogance surrounding him. He spews out some more nonsense as the Titanotheres cowers and scurries away… until you hear something worse than a Titanotheres.

Behind Jake Sully stands a Thanator. Its cry pierces the air, sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay, now, what do I do?” The marine asks, gauging the animal. “What do I do?”

Oh, you’d beg Eywa to bring that Titanotheres back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you grit out. “Run!”

Jake Sully runs, abandoning all sense of dignity as he sprints — toward you. The Thanator charges and chases Sully and you have no choice but to run too, unless you want to be a predator’s lunch. You hear a distant, “what the hell is going on?” from Dr. Augustine as you run past her and a wide-eyed Spellman.

In your head, you’re cursing Sully in the darkest pits of hell. You are not fit for running. Your lungs strain as you fight to breathe, legs already aching and you pray to all the gods you know that your ankles will not give out on you this time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Sully chants. The Thanator growls and you think you can feel it breathing just behind your neck.

“There!” Sully points to an uprooted tree. You don’t question his decision, partly because you don’t have a choice. The two of you burrow under the thick roots, dirt on your hands and knees as you try to crawl further down the shallow hole.

The animal roars, sending a giant claw in your direction. You try not to scream as the roots practically disintegrate on its assault, a shower of wood falling over your heads. Jake Sully tugs on your hand, moving out of your hiding spot and taking off again.

“This is your fault,” you wheeze out, greens and blues flying by your peripheral. “Stupid shit.”

He doesn’t hear you or maybe chooses to ignore you. You don’t care. If you weren’t on the brink of death, you’d kill Jake Sully with your bare hands.

“We gotta jump!” He shouts over his shoulder.

Though there is a giant deadly animal chasing your asses, you skid to a stop, making the marine stumble.

“No.”

He ignores you again, pulling on your wrist hard enough to pop it. The Thanator unleashes another cry, sounding closer than ever.

“We jump on three!”

It’s then you hear the wild splashes of water. You’re running head on on the edge of a cliff. You’re going to die and Jake Sully is the last person you’ll see. It’s enough to make you want to cry.

“One!”

“No!” You try to pull your wrist free from his hold but his grip only tightens.

“Two!”

“I said no!”

“Three!”

“I can’t swim!”

You don’t jump.

Jake Sully does.

But he hasn’t let go of you. His momentum drags you along and you’re free falling to your death first and sinking beneath the waters next. During your fall, Sully’s hold on you disappeared. Your chest tightens in more ways than one.

The panic creeps in and your lungs constrict as you take a deep breath, choking on water and going blind in hysteria. You thrash, mind reeling and trying to open your eyes but between the choking and the drowning and the dying, you can’t find it in you to think.

Something wraps beneath your arms and pulls. You break out of the surface, sputtering and blinking away the water, to find Jake Sully in front of you.

“Hey, hey,” he shakes your arms. Stray strands from his braids are clinging to his face. “Are you okay?”

You hear a faint cry from above, the Thanator peering down at you.

“Can we—?” you cough, eyes stinging and nose burning. “Can we get out of the water first?”

Sully hauls you off the river and into land. You fall to your knees and heave, getting water out of your system. Your clothes are drenched and you assume he lost his gun along the way. There might be no Thanators here but the forest still isn’t safe.

You shudder, running a palm over your face to get rid of the rivulets. It’s no use since your palms are wet.

“This is your fault,” you say again, glaring at the man shaking his arms as if it will dry his clothes faster. Whatever vulnerability you showed when he pulled you out was already gone. “If your stupid little ass didn’t wander off, we won’t be here right now.”

“Hey,” he protests, walking over to where you are, boots leaving behind a damp trail. “I just saved your ass back there.”

“Okay, and?”

Sully blows out a breath. You can see the frustration seeping through his façade.

“Get up, we need to find our way back.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest, knowing he’s right. He doesn’t bother to help you up as he walks away and you don’t bother calling his name as you stagger behind, sniffling and coughing still.

Trekking the forest is much harder with your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. You’ve never explored this part so it was much harder to navigate, though Jake Sully doesn’t seem as worried as you are. Your legs are tired and your nose still has not recovered from the water you inhaled. You’d love nothing more than to be back in your human form and actually breathe.

It’s nearing eclipse and the two of you are still deep in the forest. Your clothes have not fully dried but not as damp as before but as night creeps closer, the temperature slowly drops and you shiver every now and then.

“We won’t make it back to camp in time,” you say, pushing back leaves in your way. Sully, ever the gentleman, doesn’t so much as help you jump over rocks, letting you clamber your way up like a soaked baby koala.

“No shit.”

“You are so fucking annoying.”

Sully huffs, turning around to look at you. “So are you.”

You jab a finger in his direction, growing more aggravated each passing second. “Shut the fuck up. If it wasn’t for your sorry, stupid as fuck fucking ass, we won’t be here, okay? We could be back in the lab right now — I could be back in the lab right now and resting on that very stupid and inconvenient bunk but no! I am stuck here with you of all people!”

“Hey—”

“I could have died and it would have been your fault.”

Jake Sully stops and you try to swallow the emotions, try to stop the burning sensation behind your eyelids. You are far more collected than that, far more articulate and definitely far more level-headed if it were a better day but you nearly died. Every breath still hurts your lungs and your body aches in places you never thought it could hurt.

He holds up a hand between you, as if conjuring up some healthy boundaries. You think he looks a little conflicted and it’s a fresh look on him.

“Listen kid.” Oh, you hate that condescending tone. “You and I, we need to work together, alright? If you wanna survive, you follow what I say. You don’t want to? Okay—” he makes a grand gesture of spreading his arm, as if giving you liberty, “—I’ll leave you out here to really die. Your choice.”

You scowl at him, fighting the urge to just reach up and grab at his face and squeeze so hard his eyeballs would pop out. But between the two of you, it’s the marine who knows more about survival skills than you ever could so you comply, grumbling after him in the darkness.

“This better not include more cliff jumping,” you remark, kicking pebbles along the way.

“We need to make a fire,” he announces. You stare at his back, wondering if he hit his head when you jumped off.

“How the fuck are we going to do that?”

“Do you have matches?”

You mutter some more nasty comments as you tap on your clothes, checking the pockets. You find a box of it on a pouch on your chest, pulling it out to find it dripping.

“Well,” you hold it between your fingers, watching as water drips, drips, drips on the dirt, “isn’t that lovely.”

Jake Sully curses, searching his pockets. He stills when a growl comes from behind the bushes, and the sound glues you to your spot. You unconsciously take a step toward him, listening intently as he mutters a silent victory, fishing out a lighter.

“Quick, rip a seam off your shirt.” He’s already plucking dry branches off a plant to his left.

“What?”

“We need to make a fire.”

You tug uselessly on the flap of your shirt. “How is this going to help?”

Sully stares at you with wide eyes, his jaw clenched. “Fucking Christ,” he shoves a branch on your hands and grips your clothes. You gasp as he rips a good portion of your polo, leaving you in tattered cargo and an undershirt. “You won’t survive a day out here.”

You push the stupid branch back on his palms. “I wasn’t made to survive here, I’m a scientist. If I asked you what a Loreyu is, you wouldn’t know a single shit about it too.”

He ignores you. You watch as he ties the fabric on the end of the stick, dipping it on a curved leaf that has collected sap. He hands it to you before doing the same thing to his own piece of clothing and stick.

He flicks the lighter on and brings it to the saturated fabric. It catches fire immediately and you see a lot better now.

Another growl resonates, closer this time. Sully says nothing else as he grabs your wrist, torches in hand, and runs.

It seems all you’re meant to do this day is run and to be frank, you don’t think you have it in you to do so. Your legs give out as you reach a clearing, a pond shimmering in the night. It is a pain to admit but you’re thankful for Sully’s grip on you or else you would have dug your face on the forest floor.

“Shit, kid—”

“I’m alright,” you heave, dragging your feet so you’re kneeling. “I’m alright.”

Your reprieve is short-lived when something pounces behind you. You choke back a scream, ignoring the twitching pain on your ankle and scrambling to stand up. There’s a blur of black dancing in your peripheral and soon, there’s a whole pack of them surrounding you.

Jake Sully snarls, swishing his torch in a wide arc. You do the same, your back glued to his, your heart beating an erratic rhythm in your chest.

“Viperwolves,” you say.

“How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know!” You thrust your weapon forward as another one of them attempts to jump on you. “With a gun?”

“We don’t have a gun,” he grunts.

“As if I don—”

You scream as a Viperwolf pounces on you, sending you skittering away from your partner. Your torch is nowhere in sight and you’re far too panicked to think straight. Its large mouth is right at your face, sharp teeth inches away from your face.

This is it. Six years on this moon and you meet your fate like this. What a gruesome, sad ending. You don’t bother fighting, closing your eyes and flinching as it lets out a snarl before attacking you.

The pain never came.

You think you hear something, hear it whimper and the others scuttle off, but Jake Sully is already dragging you away.

There’s a ringing in your ears and his voice sounds so far away but your eyes are clear. You see him so vividly. Tommy.

“Hey, hey.” He makes a show of snapping his fingers to your left, to your right. “Talk to me, come on.”

It was the same thing he said when you almost drowned in a pool back on Earth. You were eight and stupid, taking a dip unsupervised, feeling like such an adult as you tried to imitate the others who were learning to swim as a part of their Avatar Training Program.

Tommy had found you nearly unconscious, calling and shouting for anyone as he rubbed and slapped at your back, throwing up water.

“Hey,” he had said, wiping away water on your face, “talk to me, come on.”

You had burst into tears right then, clinging to him and never letting go until you fell asleep. For a long time, he had been the only safe place you ever knew and seeing him in Jake Sully in the same situation makes your throat close up.

“M’fine,” you warble. You don’t see the woman who saved you speaking softly as she holds a palm to the Viperwolf that nearly bit your head off.

When you hear faint footsteps retreating, you think Jake Sully has left you out here, but he’s crouched over your form, looking over his shoulder.

He pushes you up despite your protests, shy of dragging you on the dirt by your arms. He’s got a hold on your wrist again, dragging you through the forest again. It is disorienting, all of it. From being chased by a Thanator, jumping off a cliff and nearly drowning, to being attacked by a Viperwolf — paired with your fatigued body, your knees rattle as you blindly follow Sully.

You hear him talking, a string of slurred words. The forest is melting, a spiral of blues and greens, until your vision vignettes and there’s nothing at all.

MORE NOTES when i said this was a slow burn, i wasn’t planning on this slow. but! our boy tsu’tey will finally show up in the next chapter. i’m just happy how we’ve slowly opened reader’s relationships with other characters, and here’s to unraveling them while building up new ones!

TAGLIST @cullenswife @hannibalelijah @neytemsgf @syviiss @katsukiswrld @lovekeeho

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venus-haze · 9 months

Text

Dawn Patrol (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: You never thought you’d see him again. Your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime-fighting, the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. It seems like the universe is giving you a second chance when you end up in this place with Homelander. Except, this one isn't quite like the man you remember, but he's not letting that stop him.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also a different take on the “love of your life died and came back but something's wrong” horror trope. Title comes from the Megadeth song (which is about living in a dystopia). Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Extremely unhealthy relationship. Intense feelings of loss, confusion, and self-doubt on the reader’s part. Some elements of unreality? Homelander is extremely manipulative, possessive, and gaslights the hell out of the reader in this, but no physical harm is done. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The man standing in front of you wasn’t John, not your John, at least. He acted strange whenever you called him that. Homelander felt so impersonal, though, a title and persona rather than the man you loved your whole life. You silently scolded yourself. You shouldn’t complain so much, not when he believed you, against all reason, despite never having met you before in this version of reality. If it were even real.

You had crumbled the first time you saw him. Weeks of being locked in a lab, poked and prodded and tested before he entered with an unfamiliar coldness. It had to have been a cruel trick, these people using your greatest vulnerability against you. John had been presumed dead for years. The ache that consumed you at his loss made it hard to even breathe sometimes, and you’d spent countless nights alone in your formerly shared bed, wracked by guilt for not doing more as you silently implored the universe to give you one more chance. You should have known it’d come with plenty of strings attached.

His name echoed through the room in a desperate howl. You strained against the titanium cuff you were chained to, and he froze upon hearing one of the links break. Rabid, desperate, tears streamed down your face in your delirium. You needed to touch him, to feel for yourself that it wasn’t your brain tricking you again. It has to be real this time.

His breath hitched as he approached you, the way animal control does a feral dog–cautious and gentle, but still regarding you with a level of distrust. Your struggle subsided with each step he took, until he was finally in arms’ reach. Looking into his blue eyes for the first time in years, your hand trembled as you lifted it to caress his cheek. Soft and warm like you’d remembered.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m your–Gemini,” you said. “‘Cause I can–”

“Make duplicates of yourself, they told me. Who are you?”

“Not here, but somewhere else, I'm your partner in, well, everything. We grew up across the street from each other,” you told him. “Your powers showed up sooner than mine, but your mom always said we were a package deal, so when we started fighting crime together, it just made sense that we’d fall in love too.”

“My mom?” he whispered.

“She was the one who came up with the name Gemini for me.”

His gaze softened, his eyes turning cloudy. You recognized that look. Deep in thought, a million miles away, the only place John wouldn’t take you. This one didn’t seem eager to do so either. Did he and his mom not get along here? Was she dead, even?

He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“We called ourselves Dawn Patrol because we’d get up before school to do our superhero stuff, and it stuck.”

“How did you end up here, then?”

“I already told them–”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You recoiled a bit. Your story began at the end, and while you managed to tell it to a group of seemingly indifferent white coats, recounting it to the man himself, or some version of him, was almost too much to bear. Still, you pushed through.

Phantom, that’s what he called himself, selfish and conniving with the ability to teleport in the shadows and seemingly shift reality itself. He was a particular menace that you and Homelander could never quite get the upper hand on, the situation imploding when Homelander, your Homelander, tackled the supervillain mid-teleport. The last thing you saw of him was his back as he disappeared with Phantom.

No one had seen him since. Despite Phantom’s insistence that he didn’t know what happened to Homelander, you kept an irrational, unrelenting grudge against him for taking the love of your life away from you. Guilt and rage fueled you, and in your most recent, and presumably last encounter with your arch-nemesis, you made the same mistake Homelander did, and ended up wherever the hell you were.

“Either you’re telling the truth, or you’re an unprecedented liar,” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing your wrists, “but I believe you.”

A beastial imitation of your first and only love transformed before your eyes over the following weeks. In his absence, your yearning had grown teeth, long and sharp, hungry to tear through flesh and for your flesh to be torn. This new man’s rib cage cracked open to offer part of himself to recreate you. You looked into the crimson void and saw his beating heart, a long-suffering shrine to you as yours was to his, or at least some memory of him. A loneliness you were all too familiar with was already settled deep within him. Why needlessly suffer though a monastic existence any longer?

You, in turn, indulged in him. Allowed your hunger to overtake you and break your involuntary fast as you devoured him. Insatiable, your lips pressed against the skin of this stranger that nevertheless you knew by heart. In your grief, in your anger, you’d pulled him out from the ether. You wondered if you could put him back together as the man you knew he could be, bloody your hands raw clawing back the damage that had been done to him by whoever came before you.

The first few days, you tried as much, the two of you hardly letting up from your entanglement in his bed. You stared at the mirror on the ceiling, taking him in with the attentiveness of the crowds that gathered around the tragically small Mona Lisa in the Louvre. Then, in the quiet moments, in tones hardly above hushed whispered, he’d ask you questions about this other life and upbringing he never got to experience, pensive at your answers, almost bothered at times.

Most of his questions seemed to be about his parents, especially his mother. Though your phone had been returned to you, it had no signal, but you were able to show him photos. Some of the last ones of you and John together was at a Fourth of July party in his parents’ backyard. One of his aunts had taken a candid photo of you, John and his parents sitting together at one of the patio tables, smiling and laughing. You had everything documented, from weddings to birthday parties to school days. John always poked fun at you for taking the phrase “take a picture, it’ll last longer” so seriously.

Now, reflecting on these times with his other, you clung to him as you watched him swipe through this other version of himself’s life. Studying it, silently reflecting on your stories and anecdotes as if to memorize them, be able to recite them by heart.

Despite the distorted period of reunited bliss, you could tell something was off about Homelander. He talked his way around your questions about his own upbringing, never quite giving you a straight answer and occasionally snapping at you when you pressed for more details. Your eyes widened the first time he did so, heart skipping a beat or two, you couldn’t recall John raising his voice at you like that before. Homelander noticed your reaction right away, soothing you with reassurances that he wasn’t mad at you, he could never be.

It seemed like he was mad at a lot of other people, though. He’d go on long rants about people at Vought, this corporation that didn’t exist where you were from but somehow controlled so much of his life and that of every other superhero. Walking around the tower with him, you noticed the way people’s demeanors shifted when he was there, a nervous submission he seemed to bask in but made your stomach feel sour.

His attempts not to scare you, to put you at ease with the prospect of spending the rest of your life with him were never quite as successful as he hoped. The warning voice in your brain knew something was off about him. You ignored it as best you could, figuring you could manage a way to handle him and chalking it up to the loneliness he was entrenched in before you came along. One night, a rarity wherein you were alone in his suite and finally had a chance to think the situation through, you panicked, hatching a messy escape plan.

Leaving a duplicate of yourself behind in the living room, you slipped out of the suite, walking down the long hallway to the elevator. The tower was so tall that it required switching elevators to get from the top floor to the lobby, and so you made the initial descent to the 50th floor.

The ride down was excruciatingly long, and every time the elevator stopped to let someone in, you felt yourself freeze up. No one acknowledged you at any point during the descent, filtering in and out, minding their own business.

When you switched elevators, you knew you were in the home stretch. Your heart raced as you pressed the ‘L’ for the lobby, the star next to the button assuring you that the ground floor would be your ticket out of there. By the time you were on the single-digit floors, you were alone again.

At least, you were until you reached the lobby. The doors opened, revealing Homelander waiting for you behind them. You backed into the wall on the opposite side of the steel box, as if that’d do anything to protect you.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And where do you think you’re going?”

He entered the elevator, reaching over to press the button back up to the 50th floor. Silence for nearly twenty floors, though you were sure the sound of your rapidly beating heart was deafening to him.

Finally, you spoke. “How did you know?”

“Your duplicate’s pretty convincing, but they don’t have a heartbeat,” he said.

John had never told you that. Your duplicates were perfect copies of you, your abnormal physical strength sapped to create each one so that they could take damage from attacks in your place. It never occurred to you that they were so blatantly lifeless.

The doors opened on the 50th floor, and instead of going in the next one over to continue the ascent, Homelander pulled you into an empty office. He closed the door, darkness engulfing the room. When you reached for a light switch, he caught your wrist in his hand instead.

“If you have a problem, you talk to me about it. You do not try to fake me out and run,” he hissed. “Do you really think the fucking white coats I saved you from would just let you walk out of here? You’d end up right back in that room. All of those things that he had, the loving parents, the pretty suburban life with your childhood sweetheart that's straight out of a fucking romcom? I didn't get that because of them."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "You didn't deserve that."

"No," he said, almost shocked at your acknowledgement of how horrific his upbringing was. "I didn't. You're here, now, though, so we're both getting what we want."

Not like this. Not you.

Yet, you were stuck with the hand you had been dealt. This corrupted imitation of the man you loved, who nevertheless was so desperate for the intense emotions you felt for him otherwise that he was willing to believe you despite all logic telling him otherwise.

The way he spoke about the people back in the lab you’d been held in, as if he knew, experienced what you did and even worse. Saved you from it. Maybe you could try. Maybe that could get you somewhere.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Being around him rendered you emotionally vulnerable. He looked just like him, and at times acted almost exactly the same. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could convince yourself it was him. How long could you go on doing that before you walked around blindly?

“Babe, did you hear a word I just said?” Homelander asked.

You looked up at him. “Got distracted, sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, the slightest smile on his face. “I’ll chalk it up to my good looks. I know you’ve been cooped up for a while, so I want you to do a team-up with me tomorrow night. It’ll be Dawn Patrol, just like old times.”

Old times? There were no old times. Not with him.

Nevertheless, you agreed. “Yeah, it’d be nice to get back out there. Haven’t done it in a while.”

“Once you’re back at it, you won’t even have to think about it, like riding a bike,” he paused for a moment, “I guess.”

His excitement the following day was infectious. You hadn’t done any crime-fighting in a long time, and doing so with him would surely help you ease into it again. He was always the best of the best, but it seemed like here, not only was he deified, but he reveled in it.

When he brought you to his superhero team’s private gym to train, he was almost shocked at how well your powers and fighting style seemed to compliment him. Elation filled your chest. Maybe you’d jumped to conclusions too soon about him. You just had to be more flexible, willing to compromise to make it work.

You were thrown off upon being presented with a crime-fighting schedule that night. A self-professed crime analytics team explained their methodology to you. When you looked to Homelander in disbelief, he seemed unfazed by the information. Being able to predict crime down to the minute just to bolster careers and social media followings seemed far from ethical, but from what little you’d learned of Vought in the weeks you’d been there, that wasn’t a concern of theirs.

Flying with him again was almost too overwhelming, bringing back memories of you and John in your teenage years. Instead of partying with your peers, the two of you would pick up fast food late on Saturday nights, sitting on suburban rooftops with your police scanner, eating burgers and listening for trouble. He’d grab you by the waist, flying off with you to stop some bad guys. Of course, people complained to your parents that you’d leave chicken nugget boxes and ketchup packets on their roofs in your haste.

By the time Homelander landed in an alley just a block away from where the crime would supposedly take place, you were crying.

“You okay? I thought you’d be used to it.”

“I am. It’s just been a while. Brought back a lot of memories.”

He smiled, kissing your forehead. “You won’t have to go so long without flying with me again. I promise, babe.”

You sniffled, giving him a weak smile. “Let’s go get some bad guys.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The next few minutes were silent as Homelander listened for the sound of a bank alarm. Late-night robbery, the crime analytics team had told you, it couldn’t be easier. You weren’t sure what time it was when Homelander grabbed you, the familiar gesture of his arm around your waist making you feel overwhelmed again.

When he landed, you could see the glass doors leading into the bank had been smashed, leaving shards of glass scattered on the sidewalk that crunched beneath your boots. There’d be three bank robbers, one lookout while the other two took what they could from the vault. You and Homelander already agreed that you’d take on the lookout and then join him in subduing the others.

You hesitated for a moment when you and Homelander split up, but you didn’t let it distract you too much. The lookout froze upon seeing you duplicate, his hand shaking as he pointed the gun between you and your temporary clone. Whichever one he shot, you’d heal fast enough, though you’d get less damage if he shot the duplicate rather than you.

His impulsiveness proved to be his downfall, as your duplicate began to walk toward him, and he pulled the trigger, nearly passing out when the clone de-materialized before him.

In his moment of distraction, you knocked the gun from his hand, grabbing a nearby desk phone and hitting him in the temple with it. You kicked the gun to the other side of the room before he could reach for it and hit him in the head again. He dropped to the ground, unmoving on the floor.

You set off to find Homelander. The vault was empty when you got there, a mess of valuable and still smoldering scorch marks in the wall where either the thieves had used explosives to break their way in, or Homelander had lasered them into oblivion. Regardless, there was no sign of anyone.

“Homelander?” you called out.

No response. You looked around frantically for any sign of him.

You couldn’t lose him again, not even this terrifying version of him. “Homelander, where did you go?”

Silence again. Your pounding heart rang in your ears as you turned around, setting off for another part of the building in hopes of finding him. There wasn’t anyone else you could count on here, and for all his faults, he was the only person you trusted.

Just when it felt hopeless and your brain was about to implode on itself at the sinking notion that maybe he was gone, a loud bang came from the other side of the bank where the vault was. You rushed over without a second thought for your own safety. Besides, the injury your duplicate had taken on your behalf was already healing. You'd do it a thousand times over if it meant keeping him safe.

Homelander stood in the middle of the previously empty vault, the two thieves knocked out, or maybe they were dead. It didn’t matter, because he clearly wasn’t.

“Where were you?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“No you haven’t. I came over here and there was no one. I called out for you and—“

“And what?”

“I wanna go home,” you cried, clinging to him. “Please, let’s just go home.”

He nodded, his superhuman strength allowing him to scoop you up in his arms with ease. You always felt safe in them, and you pressed your head to his chest, trying to focus on the sound of his heartbeat as he flew back to his suite at the tower.

His heart always beat faster than anyone else’s, having to maintain the life of the most powerful superhero to ever live. It was a heavy burden, though you tried your best to offset it, you sometimes felt too reliant on him. He never made you feel bad for it, neither version of him did.

You were still a bit dazed when he landed, shuffling into his living room and leaning against the back of the couch. He said he had been in the vault, but you knew it had been empty when you walked over to it. You knew what you saw.

“You did great with the lookout. I can help you train more, and we’ll try again in a few days,” he said. “I’ll get the crime analytics team to find us another softball one.”

“Homelander,” you began tentatively, “back there did you–did you do that on purpose? Disappear on me?”

“Of course not, darling, why would I do something like that after everything you've been through?” he asked, his voice soft enough that if you let yourself, you could pretend for a few moments he was your Homelander. “I told you, I was in the vault the whole time.”

“I can’t lose you again,” you said, your voice cracking. “I can’t—“

“You won’t. I’ve always been here. I love you.”

He’s lying, the voice in your head screamed, he’s not your John. There’s something wrong.

You ignored it, choosing instead to kiss him, to drown out the rational with the feeling of your lover’s lips again. You would take this Homelander over none at all. “I love you too.”

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #homelander x you

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silverskye13 · 9 months

Text

"You're bleeding."

It's an obvious statement, one Tanguish feels a little foolish for. Of course Helsknight is bleeding. He just won his match. It's amazing how strong these Colosseum fighters are, how much damage they can do to each other, especially when they're matched up well. And Helsknight is the Champion of Hels -- if for no other reason than the popularity with the crowd, every one of his matches is a good match. It has to be. Anything less and it's not the Champion, is it?

Helsknight looks dazed. It's a familiar look. After a particularly rough fight. It's like the knight can't believe the fight has stopped. It takes a few minutes for his heart to stop sprinting. So he goes through the gate, dragging his sword up to the nearby wall and plants himself on the bench, and he stares into the middle distance, breathing, bleeding, waiting. It's a familiar look. Today he's spattered up to the elbow in blood, and it runs between the links of his chain mail in thin calligraphy lines. It gathers in the bends in his pauldrons, makes more stark the dent in his chest plate. If it's not cleaned and polished off in the next few hours, it'll settle in those places and poison them with rust, and the next time Helsknight fights, he'll be more vulnerable. Blood is such an insidious thing sometimes, the way it weakens when it flows.

Tanguish moves to the knight, a bowl of water in one hand, a healing kit in the other. He takes the knight apart like he's a machine, slipping delicate fingers across the gauntleted hand, undoing straps and buckles to show the bruised knuckles beneath the armor. Metal and leather can only do so much. Bodies break surprisingly well, when they're testing their limits. Helsknight sighs as Tanguish massages his hand, searching for broken bones. The knight is almost feverishly hot to his frost-laden touch, and Tanguish watches the swollen skin start to pale as the cold soothes it.

"You don't have to do that," Helsknight says, his voice a thin and distant rasp, still lost somewhere in the adrenaline crash. "Just... give me a minute to rest."

"I am," Tanguish answers him gently and keeps working, unclasping the buckles on the chest plate and pulling it free. He lays it gently on the ground, and takes pride in how Helsknight breathes easier. The knight rests, eyes fluttering half-closed and sighing as Tanguish works. Cold hands trace over blooded armor and fevered skin, setting right the wrongs. He dabs at cuts, eliciting hisses of pain that he immediately soothes. He puts ice to bruises, and water to sweat and blood, and Helsknight revives, slowly. His breathing lengthens and deepens. The flushed skin cools. The muscles relax.

"How did the fight go?" Tanguish asks when Helsknight's eyes flutter open again.

"I won."

"You can say it better than that."

Helsknight smirks, his vitality slowly returning. He sniffs and runs a tongue across his teeth, making room for the words where there once was blood. Tanguish doesn't know how the knight stands the taste, but then again, Helsknight has been in a great many fights. Maybe blood loses its flavor after so long.

"You watched the fight."

"And so did they," Tanguish looks up to the ceiling, where the cheering of the crowd still sometimes surges and roars. "But none of us can tell the story the way you can."

"Blood is memory without language."

"See, that's what I mean."

"Weaving bard's tales already?" someone asks, another fighter sitting on another bench, cleaning a bloodied sword. "You haven't even rested yet."

"He's resting now," Tanguish says, running the damp cloth over a gash in Helsknight's arm. That one will need stitches, or a health potion. Helsknight's hand shakes when Tanguish cleans it, and there's color in the cut that means its too deep, gruesomeness he doesn't want to put names to, for fear it'll make him sick. Helsknight spares the wound a glance before pointedly fixing his gaze away from it. It always strikes Tanguish as funny, that the knight can't look at his own wounds. He can inflict them, he can tend them in others, he can ignore them, but admitting he's wounded is a mountain he struggles to climb.

Helsknight closes his eyes again, but the eyelids keep moving, like a man dreaming or searching for words.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"When they opened the cage."

Helsknight nods. He sits in silence for a long moment. In a few days, when all wounds are healed and all aches soothed, Helsknight will write in a little book he keeps under his pillow:

Blood is memory without language The wounded creature screams And though the sand drinks life away We lay linked by crimson streams

Brothers you and I, creature Kin on parched and bitter sand Though mine is spilt for glory Yours is spilt by crowd's command

What place is this, what hell endured That brings us to this yield But happenstance and hubris And hungry crowd's bone field

What beast are you to me, creature What creature I to you You are a footnote in a story And I the death of you

Again repeat what we both know Whilst life, for now, entwine That we are linked in blood my love Shared memory divine

#the barking writer #helsknight #tanguish #redstone and skulk related #[loud shrugging] something about blood man i dunno #it's one am i've been listening to NFWMB on repeat for two hours

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anangelwhodidntfall · 10 months

Text

A Whole New Word: Part I

A Whole New World Masterlist

word count: 1.3k

description: Y/n a former teacher from earth arrive on pandora after receiving a phone call from her best friend Jake Sully inviting you to come take over Grace Augustine's school. After arriving to Pandora and working with her avatar for a few weeks and studying the environment and people. Jake invites her to camp but on the way there, she ends up twisting her ankle and meeting the famous warrior Tsu’tey.

taglist: @inutheangel @moonchildxoxx

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Next Part

You were woken up out of a six-year sleep where they ran you through some tests, before briefing you on what would be happening now that you were here. More often than not, you found yourself admiring the beauty of the world around you.

"Welcome y/n, we are so happy to have you here with us." Norm and Max said shaking your hands.

"Hi guys, thank you so much for allowing me to come." You said to them.

"So this is where we link up for our avatars and this is your avatar." They said showing you your avatar.

"She's beautiful." You said looking at her.

"Just like you." Jake said making you turn and look at him with a smile.

"Giant!" You said with a smile as he picked up and hugged you.

"Short stack, oh how I've missed you." He said hugging you before placing you on the ground.

"I've missed you more, thank you for thinking of bringing me out here." You said to him.

"Of course! I wouldn't want anyone else here with me." He said to you.

For the next few weeks, you were constantly going through training with your body and getting used to it while also studying the planet, the people, and everything. It was all so fascinating to learn about. Currently, you were going through another test with Norm and Jake, who also felt like quizzing you about everything you had been studying.

"Y/n you are doing so good, I think that you should be able to go out on your own without supervision and being monitored." Norm said.

"Really?" You asked with a smile.

"Yeah, you've shown great progress with your body and your learning." He said.

"You know what that means kid, you can finally come to the village!" Jake said with a huge smile.

Today was the day you were finally able to come into the village, you had told Jake that you would meet him there feeling comfortable enough to walk there with the communication device he gave you. You were walking around admiring the beautiful scenery around you, with a smile not paying attention until went face-first into the ground making you groan.

Tsu'tey was doing his usual border patrols for unwanted guests when he heard the sound of a female voice, making him even more alert as he went to find the source of the sound.

"Ow!" You said sitting up and touching your ankle.

Tsu'tey stopped when he found the girl sitting on the ground, the more he analyzed her the more he saw that she wasn't true Na'vi but instead of Dreamwalker which made him even more alert.

"Easy kill." Tsu'tey thought lining his arrow up preparing to kill you.

You were looking to see where my communication device went, when I looked up and saw Na'vi with their arrow pointed at me.

"Demon! What are you doing here?" He asked harshly.

"Please don't kill me! I'm a friend of Jake's." You said to him with my hands held up to show that you meant no harm.

Tsu'tey looked at the woman before him and took notice of her unarmed self meaning she couldn't possibly pose a threat, but still, he wondered what kind of friend she was to Jake.

"What kind of friend?" He asked you.

"The good kind, he invited me here to possibly take over Dr. Augstine's old school and become a teacher." You said as he lowered his bow.

"I will take you camp where Jake will verify if what you say is true and if not I won't hesitate to kill, do you understand?" He said harshly.

"Yes." You said to him as he offered you a hand.

You grabbed your stuff and took his hand and tried to stand up only when you put pressure on your foot, you were met with an intense amount of pain, making you hiss as he looked at you confused.

"Are you hurt?" He asked concerned.

"Yes, I think when I fell earlier I twisted my ankle, and it hurts to put any pressure on it." You said looking at him.

"Let me call my pa'li, and we can ride back to camp, that way you don't injure yourself more." He said to you as he called his pa'li over.

"Your pa'li is beautiful."You said to him as he helped up onto it.

He looked almost shocked that you knew that and how good your Na'vi sounded for a dream walker. They rode back to camp not really speaking, and you took notice of how everyone started gathering around them making your anxiety spike as he helped you down of his pa'li and carried me to the healer's tent to get looked at.

"No way, you got hurt on your first time here." Jake said with a laugh as he walked into the tent.

"Shut up I was distracted by the scenery and tripped." You said as the shaman worked on your ankle.

"I know it's beautiful, isn't it? But I'm glad you're here." He said hugging you.

"Jake Sully, you know this woman?" Tsu'tey said interrupting your moment with Jake.

"Yes I do, this is y/n. She is the one I've been talking about coming and taking over the school. Did something happen?" He asked looking between you and Tsu'tey.

"He tried to kill me and then threaten to kill me if he found out I was lying." You said to Jake.

"Yeah, he's kinda intense. Tsu'tey this is my fault, I should've gone and got her, but believe me she is an ally to us." He said as Tsu'tey nodded his head.

"Forgive me for my actions, I hope you can understand the worry and need of concern after what has happened to my people." He said to you.

"It's alright I understand. Thank you for your help today." You said to him.

"Alright, my dear, you have a sprained ankle. I believe you will heal up just fine, as long as you stay off of it for the next few days. I will come by your hut tonight with some medicine to help with the pain." She said.

"Thank you shaman." You said to her before she left.

"Hut? What did she mean by hut?" You asked them after she left.

"It means we had a hut prepared for you once I told the clan about you agreeing to come here and help them." Jake said.

"Come, we will show it to you." Tsu'tey said gently picking you up in his arms shocking both you and Jake.

You guys walked a little bit until you reached this beautiful hut that was clearly crafted with so much time and detail. You guys gently walked in where Tsu'tey gently placed you on your bed while propping your hurt ankle up.

"Thank you." You said as he nodded his head.

"So what do you think?" Jake asked placing your bag on the table.

"It looks amazing, whoever built this clearly has an eye for detail and the craftsmanship is so lovely." You said running your hand across the table.

Tsu'tey smiled at your praise, he was the one who had been tasked with building your home and wanted to make your stay here in the clan enjoyable so he made sure it was built to the most perfection.

"We should let her get some rest, we will be back in the morning to check on you." Jake said.

"Thank you both for all your help." You said to them.

You fell asleep thinking about what life was going to be like in the clan especially with Tsu'tey hanging around, you had to admit that he had scared you when you first laid eyes on him but now you had to admit that he was growing on you.

Tsu'tey made his way into his own home that night still trying to process the events of the day, especially running into you. He had to admit that you were beautiful and seemed very intelligent for a dream walker he couldn't wait to learn more about you.

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