#Whole Planet Foundation

[inthiskingdomwewillendure]

Lee Pace in Foundation 2x09 Long ago not far away

[bongo-clash]

Okay scribbled this out Super Fast and my justifications for this are in the tags BUT-

Short DPXDC Prompts #658

very powerful spectral entities serve on the Ghost Kings council to advise and assist the king in his duties. Some commonly powerful entities are collectives. Usually the collective consciousness of a city, a concept, or an ideology.

Two of those collectives that serve the Ghost Kings Council is Metropolis and Gotham.

[etherfabric]

Messages from Your Protector

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

Pile 1

The Fool, The Moon rx

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Oh my dear. I see how scared you are. I know this is nothing like anything before. But somehow also exactly like the thing you were running from your whole life. I know how unclear everything seems. How uncertain. You don't dare to move one inch.

Let me tell you now: The inch is enough. And you can take all the time you need. You can't see that from where you are, but from where I am, I can tell that time isn't important. Not at all. It doesn't make sense to you, nothing lately really does. All you had was your mind to rely on, and it's slipping away from you in ways you tried to avoid your whole life. They called you crazy, a liar, a drama queen. So you swore to always pay attention to the exterior, and only stick to the hard facts, to never be accused of that again.

And now suddenly everything turns to smoke. Nothing solid, no foundation to lean on, no former structure you recognize.

You might feel doomed, cursed, imprisoned. Imprisoned in something only you can see and feel, and not even those sensory informations seems reliable. Let me tell you, my precious lightbeam: This is your initiation. It is not for nothing. Far from it.

Not everyone is called to do this, and those who are, rarely feel "good" (in the former sense of the word) during it. It's one of the highest gifts the Universe can bestow upon you, but the process of shedding and rebuilding has phases of liminality that can't be skipped. You ask why this is happening? So you have only one thing left to use and turn to, so it becomes stronger than ever: Your faith. That crazy, invisible, unprovable thing you felt your whole life and ran from. Now it's your last resort. It seems cruel, but once you allow yourself to fully embrace it, be assured, we will bathe you in light and miracles that will carry you across this abyss. Just ask. Invite us, and we will come. The famous leap of faith is your only means of transportation right now, so to speak.

We love you so, so much. And honestly, you are doing amazing already. On our plane, your light is shining brighter than ever. We were never this close to you, and we love it. We know it doesn't feel this way all the time for you, but please listen to your intuition more. It's there to help you, not harm you. Those that judged you anytime you acted upon it are on their own, separate path. Don't let them sway you. Deep inside, you know it's something big and important, what is happening right now. You are doing amazing. We love you so much. I can't say it enough. You will get through this and be thankful. Later. Maybe you can find a smidge of that gratitude now. When you let your true opinion arise within, and dare to listen.

Pile 2

7 of Pentacles rx, 10 of Pentacles

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

It's already done. The seeds are planted. This is a time of winding down, breathing in what you already have, let it enrich and nourish you. No one will come and take it away, claiming you are "too lazy" or "ungrateful" to "deserve it". Who told you this? Don't you know they were talking to themselves? To their own shadow, which they cast upon you, to not be blinded by your light? My dearest soul star. Can't you feel it, behind the worry and fear, underneath it all - the hum of completion? It surrounds you, it permeates the space between your atoms, it carries you across this cosmos.

Just imagine this gigantic planet you sit upon, its own attraction to you keeping you grounded. You belong here. You deserve everything that Life gave you. You deserve everything you worked for, and also everything you never worked for and just have, AND you deserve everything that is to come. Oh, there is a lot to come. So many blessings. You don't know even half if it yet. And that's exactly how it's supposed to be.

We don't want you to be exhausted from worry when we bring it to you. We want you to be soft and open, so it can touch your inner being - the only place where true satisfaction can take place. Look around you. The room you are in, or the environment you reside in for now. All this exists at the same time as you. Isn't that proof enough? Who else should it be for? Dare to connect to it, through whatever means sound right. Dare to delve into it. Dare to lay your hands on it, smell it, taste it, observe it, hear it. Draw pictures of it, in your mind, on a canvas, in the dirt on the ground. You are a part of all of it. You are part of the world to everyone else!

The time it takes to get you there is meant for you to enjoy what you have so far. Things will change, and the present will be another shape than the current one. So enjoy it while it lasts, until the upgrade arrives. Remember how desperate the past version of you was for so many of these circumstances? Get back in touch with them to feel their bliss and satisfaction. They are always there to help you. All the versions of you, past, present and future. They all love you in their own way, and they all are connected to you and bring their talents and wisdom as soon as you let them speak. This can be in a dream, a song, a memory, a word you read somewhere that tugs at you. Maybe a smell, or a name. Follow the thread, make space for the unraveling, and be assured we are always protecting you from what could truly be harmful. Nothing you can't take.

Admittedly, our relationship to pain is a rather abstract one compared to your incarnated self - so apologies for sounding aloof - but it carries deep truths, and is never the whole story. Promised. It will pass. You are doing so well. We love you so much more than you can imagine. For now. Soon, you will have a better idea. If you ever need our help, just call us. However feels most authentic. A thought is enough. Then listen for our signs, and dare to believe them, just like we believe in you.

Pile 3

The Star, Knight of Wands

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

We are sending you support on all dimensions. You won't see it coming. It won't look like it moments before the event (or several events...) and you will be close to giving up on hope. The rhythm of the recent days was just the "right" wrong mixture of stagnation and overwhelming, sudden changes, and you are exhausted. You have lost things that you held very, very close to your heart, and you thought they belonged to your destiny.

Memories, associations, dreams, fragments of what is lost haunt you, and you try so desperately to make it fit into the picture. Sure this mean it will come back...? Well. Yes and No. Yes on the spiritual, emotional, ethereal plane - what you felt with them is just an appetizer compared to what's to come. It's a manifestation upgraded tenfold. But no, it won't be them exactly. I am so sorry for your pain - but I am not sorry for the context in which this loss happened, because I see the purpose it serves clear as day. You have to wait and see for it to unfold before your very eyes (at least the first two of them), and many fears and worries birthed from past disappointments will pop up.

Don't read those as prophecies - they are asking to be purged! So the canvas is clear for your upcoming masterpiece. It will happen at just the right time. It's not going anywhere. It is yours, and it will wait until you are ready. Promised. Your pace is just the right pace. Listen to your emotions, as untamable they might seem at times. Learn to dance with them, instead of fighting against them, and be it just one intentional second for starters. Your limits are there for a reason, and no one wants you to hurt yourself unnecessarily in the process. You deserve the reassurance and patience you need, and we hold that frequency towards you all the time.

There are judgements from people from your past still attached to what you deem true, and to which you assigned great meaning and weight in how you should be treated by the Universe, and all the people in it. You don't dare to go near them - they bite back. Like a wounded animal. Let's see how gentle you can go with them. We assure you, they will calm down as soon as they know you mean no harm. As soon as they feel you have the same patience and reassurance avaible for them you deserve. Watch the alchemy unfold, and bask in your accomplishments. This is the stuff transformation is made of. We are so freaking proud of you!

Pile 4

The Hermit, The Moon

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

What you bring to the world is something not many will understand. We see your dedication, and be assured, you are on the path that was agreed upon before you came here. The unfolding of your inner voice is a marvelous endeavor without any witnesses, just yours to experience. You have never been so lonely and so rich in your whole life. And this is just the beginning.

We protect you from the harm that could sway you, but not the harm that can teach you. There are people around you who are blind to the light within, even scared when it shows up. They don't know what it means, at least not from their limited perspective they deem the whole truth. We see you trying to extend a helping hand, but this is our influence when they don't take it. You need all this energy for the next phase of transformation.

Your discipline and strategy so far has served you well, and we command you for your endurance. This is a whole new game, and you play it quite well. But be warned - this won't last forever. You might dream about what soon will finally be, to exchange it for what is right now. You will miss this once it's over. Not because the future is so grim - on the contrary. But because the beauty of inner transformation is not a constant or easily accessible one, and you either pay close attention to decipher the music in it now, or you will only have the tinted glass of nostalgia as a way back to it. What seems like a chore now will soon be the holder of self love when you look back on it. This might mean nothing to you, or even come across as accusatory, or threatening even.

We never mean harm. We are light. We are love. Just like you. What we want to invite you to is daring to be grateful to be you right now. This version of you won't last forever, so why not love it? Just for what it is?

That is why we send you this tsunami of solitude. So you and you can finally get a room and connect. Look each other in the eyes, deeply. And see how you are just perfect for each other, and exactly what you need and want. After all, this is what you chose. This is exactly your style. And it suits you so, so well.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Predator x a former Weyland-Yutani researcher who does NOT want their children anywhere near a xenomorph at any point in time/is not so hot onnthe whole "hunting the most dangerous game" thing in general.

Monsters Under The Bed

Character: Woftik (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2077

Summary: On the north end of the planet, the cold weather is brutal. Only the strong survive. One of your children is nearing their chiva. The blooding ceremony where she could die. You didn't want her to go. She's still your baby to you. Still so small like the day she was born. But Woftik is the leader of the tribe. This must be done.

Author Note: This thought process for many of those who have children with Yautjas is probably high. Humans aren't used to such a thing. Sometimes it works in their favor, but others... not so much.

Masterlist

Ao3

“I will not allow our child to be slaughter by those, by those monsters!” you screamed off at the top of your head. Tears streamed down your sticky cheeks. A finger was shoved into Woftik’s chest, not even making the Yautja sway. “It’s one thing for you to go out there and hunt but it’s another to send our child to their deaths!”

Out of all the things he could’ve said today, you weren’t expecting him to state it’s time for your daughter to become a newly blooded. Woftik had been training her since she could walk how to hunt. Hunting normal things for food or necessity. Not going off to fight an eight-legged creature who only comes out at certain times in a year. This thing lives in caves. Caves. Limited space to fight. The beast was around twenty feet tall, scary beyond belief, and – oh, could kill your daughter! How did he not understand this?!

Woftik let you yell at him, let you take your anger out at him. An angry partner was bad. But he knew better from experience not to feed into the energy. After some time, you’ll wear yourself out eventually.

The nonreaction from him only pissed you off more. It gave you the wrong signals. As if, he didn’t care about you or your feelings or your daughter. Your fists trembled at your sides. You were red in the face, hot headed and all. “You don’t care?! You don’t care she could die because it’s part of your culture to send your children to death. But, I will not stand for this.” You put down your foot firmly and jabbed your finger into his chest again.

Only a brow lifted to acknowledge the jab. “Woftik, you will not send Vo to her death. I will not stand for this. I don’t care if its part of your culture.” With your past experience with Weyland-Yutani, you knew some of their culture and history. Dangerous. Death. That’s the foundations that you saw. Kill or be killed in their line of work.

Why in all the years did you decide to free this asshole and allow him to take you away from earth. You will never know what you were thinking back then. Young and stupid. Here comes this big, burly, monster who sweeps you off your feet and saves you after saving him. How idiotic you were. Cause now look at the trouble that’s put you in.

After all the yelling, releasing the pent up anger, the energy left your body. You panted, shoulders heaving while glaring up at the giant off white Yautja in front of you. His stance or features hadn’t even changed once since the start of the argument. You wanted to get angry all over again but saw no point. If he won’t budge, what’s the point to try again?

“Woftik,” you soft call his name. The glare on your face turning into a pleading expression. “Please.”

One of his upper mandibles twitched. “Sweetheart.” Woftik cupped your hot face in his hands and drew you in closer. “This is for her. She has trained since the moment she could stand. She must take this step in her life to continue to live within our tribe. Or else she’ll be forced out.” His thumbs rubbed at both the wet and dry tears stuck to your cheeks. “This is for her own good. Even our own daughter has to face the same challenges as any other Yautja.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces. Tears fell more constantly. You shook your head in his hands, trying to deny his words. “Woftik, please. Don’t do this. Don’t send her out there. She’ll die. She’s… she’s not like you. She’s human too.” As much as you hate to use your species in a demeaning way to yourself, if it helped. So be it.

A hybrid. A surprise you didn’t think was scientifically possible. Two different species, different DNA, different chromosomes. It shouldn’t be logical. But, here was your daughter, Vo-tok. She was living proof.

His mandibles drew up into his mouth. “And that will be her advantage to this. I believe in her skill and my skill. Remember, I taught her everything she knows. Do you trust me?” he asked, softening his voice and drawing your full attention to him.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow down. Your gaze slipped down to the ground. Anywhere besides his dark brown eyes that could see into your very soul. His hands on your cheeks tilted your head up even more to find the thing you tried to hide from.

“Do you trust me?”  By his god, you did. A lot. It was your human nature to fret about your daughter though. He’s trained. Cleanly. You’ve seen him in action when he had to take down the base he had been locked up in. No human could stand in his path and live. All except yourself. That was because you had saved his life. The code all respected Yautjas follow to a T. He had been forced by said code to take you back with him, despite his want to slaughter you. Except, you had freed him from his bonds and gave him a chance to escape.

Pain was evident in your eyes. “Woftik,” you whined his name. The Yautja tightened his hold, silently demanding an answer from you. A sigh left you, eyes shutting softly with a wince. “You know I do.”

Despite your anger, your rage on the male, there wasn’t a doubt you trusted him. You had to in this line of work. Without him, being in the cold, freezing North Pole, you would’ve perished long ago.

Woftik released a deep rumble that sounded similar to a purr. His face grew close to nuzzle his temple to yours. “Then, trust my training. I’ve taught plenty before. Not all have returned from the hunt. I won’t lie to you. Her chances are greater than any other trainer,” he explained and pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open to find his nearly black eyes looking deep into yours.

“How can you expect from me to do this? I can’t. I can’t just turn a blind eye and let our daughter near such a thing. Why can’t she just hunt something normal? Like those deer-like creatures you bring home every once in a while,” you tried to reason with him one more time. Anything to get him to break. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

His eyes hardened for a moment. “And all of my children have gone through similar training either by me or their mother. They’ve endured the hunt. Not all have survived. It’s their final test to become a hunter. Vo-tok is half ooman but that may be an advantage to her.” How could he possibly think such a thing? Compared to his kind, Yautjas are weak, fragile. Plenty of other Yautjas have told you so despite who is your mate and what your position is in their clan.

From the determination in his eyes and voice, there was no way to win this verbal battle with him. As much as you hated it, his word was law. He led his clan with a mighty fist and ensured their survival through the harshest of months. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take your word or listen to you. He’s often done that. But, this was one thing he won’t budge on.

And that made you feel a hurricane of feelings for him.

You turned your head away, pulling away from his touch. “When does this ‘hunt’ begin?” you asked in a defeated tone, faced tucked to the side.

Woftik sighed and squared his shoulders. “Three days, at dusk. The beast only comes out at night.” Your heart clenched at the thought of your daughter fighting at night. This couldn’t get worse. You flinched and hugged yourself, trying to fight off the new wave of tears again.

Your shoulders were bunched. You forced yourself to take a few steps away from him. “Okay,” you softly said then turned around and walked away from him. Distance was needed. Space and time. You had to go spend time with your daughter. Before everything may change before your eyes.

Worst of all. You had three other children with him. Woftik was sentencing all of them to their deaths. And there’s nothing you could do to stop it. All he expected from you was to trust the training he puts all four of them through. But Woftik is… Woftik. He could handle himself. You’ve seen it personally, up front and personal. But this, this is completely different. Your children. This is your children you were talking about.

The eldest of your children wasn’t even home. She was out, training with another group of young bloods nearing their blooding ceremony. And none of their parents were objecting this. It was part of their culture. A hard pill to swallow for an outsider who wanted to protect your children from the monsters.

The others were in the playroom that branched off of from the common room. You walked through said space to find all of your little ones huddled together, eyes wide. Their whispering stopped immediately at your approach.

Unease had settled in their dark eyes. Your heart broke all the more at the sight. Instantly, you knelt before them, brows furrowed up. “Oh, babies,” you cooed to them in a soft, gentle tone.

None of them were babies anymore. The second oldest, Ma’ril, was thirteen in Yautja years, nearing his own blooding as well. Then, you had Tink-on. She was twelve. Lastly, was Veir. He was nine. The youngest in your family. Yet, all of them knew the basics at least of hunting. Each progressing in different weapons that suited them best. Woftik ensuring to hit every style to find what fits them. He was so careful about their training. That at first, you weren’t fretting about their upcoming hunts. Until the day comes.

It was closing in fast.

“You heard us yelling, didn’t you?” you asked, disappointed in yourself. This is one of your worst fears.

Veir nodded his head silently and looked at you from underneath his brows. You flinched as if he had struck you. It was one thing to shout at your partner but another to have your children hear it.

“Oh, babies, I’m so sorry. We were disagreeing on something. I’m… I’m just scared for your older sister. I can’t help it. It’s part of being human.” Something they were burdened with. The emotions of a human and the talents and skills of a Yautja. Two ideas that don’t mix well. “But, we came to an agreement. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

They all looked at each other before returning their eyes to you. Timidly, you opened your arms and waited with bated breath. One after another, Ma’ril, Veir, and Tink-on piled in on each other. All of them snugging you into a hug.

“You know I love you with all of my heart, right?” A question you couldn’t but ask in the aftermath. Each one nodded and voiced that they knew. “Good. Good. I’m very glad. I love you guys so much. You’re my world.”

And they were. They were your lifeline. Woftik was part of that as well. Pieces to the puzzle that made up your life. A life you didn’t want to see break up if a piece goes missing. You had to hold back the tears desperate to fall. The idea hurting more than you thought.

You felt the eyes before hearing the soft steps of Woftik. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the hulking, white giant stalk into the room quiet as ever. He moved with ease and lowered himself to his knees at your side. Your gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The pain was too fresh in your heart to forgive him just yet.

“They heard us,” you explained in soft voice that only he could hear. The off-white Yautja hummed and scooted closer, showering the four of you with his warmth. His muscular arms came around and encircled all of you. You leaned into him, taking the embrace to quell the pounding of your heart.

Nothing needed to be said about your family. Mismatched, imperfect as it was, you loved it more than anything.

[smoothriverrocksrock]

I have read your premise about deception! Bee and I’m amazed.

As I watched the scene where Megatron stand up against Sentinel, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bee decided his side, because he just saw one of the only friends he has ever had, after a long period of isolation, being CARVED.

That set up the bases between those two, also I like to wonder how his relationship with future decepticons would come. With shockwave this mentor-student relationship and with Soundwave scout buddies. But what about the others?

Sorry if this is getting long, a thought came, if Bee is a tinkerer as you mentioned and he’s friends with Soundwave who has “cassettes”, you think in the future he mades his own? I once read in a deception Bee story, he created his own cassette named Stinger.

I just think it would be cute.

I have a lotta scattered thoughts on how Bee interacts with the other Decepticons so I’ll try my best to organize em

I imagine in the beginning Bee is soooooo amazed by the High Guard, like fan boy type stuff. A lot of the junk he found while trapped in isolation sub-level 50 were old books/data pads that Sentinel wanted destroyed, mainly a lot of history about the Primes/Cybertron before he took over. At this point since Sentinel’s had control over Iacon for God knows how long there isn’t really anything super revealing for Bee to find, but it’s what teaches him about the High Guard and who the main commanders were

This kind makes the High Guards awkward around Bee because imagine you’re an old war veteran disgraced and living in exile, and this little twerp comes up asking about the Great Garage Shitfest of Fuckass where you got your ass beat by aliens. Takes a bit for Bee to understand that most of the High Guard gets kindaaaa uncomfortable about remembering their past failures

Worst about this is Starscream for a lot of “How couldn’t I see Sentinel’s betrayal coming” reasons with a hint of “I’m bitter about being overthrown as leader and now I have to tolerate this little shit who the new leader apparently likes”. Takes him the longest to warm up to Bee

It’s not until after Bee understands the whole “don’t talk about the past” thing with the High Guard that the other mechs start giving him a chance. He gets pretty popular, but in a “Group of people trying to get a kid to say ‘fuck’” kinda way. They wanna see how much they can nurture Bee’s (apparently?) inherent bloodlust. Other than that, most of them end up relying on him translating some of the shit Megatron says because Megatron has chronic “refuses to elaborate” syndrome. This backfires tho because Bee has chronic “Never stops talking” syndrome

Shockwave: Hey so like if Sentinel was forcing the majority of the population into drilling the planet dry and the major city state is underground, am I gonna have to worry about Cybertronian civilization collapsing under its own weight or what?

Megatron: Aren’t you the scientist? Figure it out yourself.

Bee: He means the mines are constantly being moved around and are evenly placed so the foundations don’t get weakened. Most of the leftover minerals are used for fortifying foundations, and I actually found a lotta cool-but-kinda-boring schedule datapads that- *continues yapping*

Also about the cassette thing, I’m still trying to imagine how that would even work in the tf1 universe, so probably not. Bee having a cassette named ‘stinger’ is fucking amazing though

[lotus-tower]

luna-terra is such an interesting character because the memorial foundation route is obviously like. the least revolutionary, most “pragmatic” and depressingly “realistic” option in a game that is not at all grounded in realism, right. but if you play her route straight (here I just mean coupling every character with their origin faction) she obviously knows that, everyone knows that. and she wants that “bad ending” not out of nihilism but because she wants to believe that she could find a way to survive and be happy even in those shitty circumstances. she doesn’t want to aim high and grasp for ultimate happiness and liberation. she wants to know that she could survive anything, even this. her form of idealism is that she could somehow carve out a small space of mundane happiness while enduring the weight of the world—literally, the whole planet’s gravity. and I think that’s such an interesting texture for a trans character who transitioned long ago. like, the celestial mechanics and cradle’s graces endings are much more about “new bodies.” but luna-terra wants to be someone who persists through living on earth even though it’s sort of miserable every single day, but more specifically someone who believes that just by existing in it she is tilting the world off its normative axis, diluting its normative categories, shifting its gravity by 0.000000000000000000001 degrees. just one person out of billions but in math, everything can count, can be counted. without a conception of math you can’t have a conception of 0.000000000000000000001 degrees, for better or for worse. and I think that’s honestly such a good counterweight to the other two protags. and also I love girlmath

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait. 

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 

This note didn’t work. 

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note. 

It doesn’t look like he came. 

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 

You want to see him again. 

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[anilovie]

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible. 

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited. 

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone. 

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up. 

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit. 

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons. 

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched. 

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. 

“We’re almost there…”  

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape. 

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you. 

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see. 

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety. 

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away. 

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force. 

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame. 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry. 

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior. 

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship. 

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled. 

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho. 

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.” 

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside. 

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire. 

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way. 

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited. 

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now. 

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees. 

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger. 

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows. 

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his. 

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?” 

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever. 

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple. 

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees. 

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain. 

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over. 

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him. 

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered – 

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him. 

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this. 

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head. 

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again. 

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist. 

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you. 

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself. 

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line. 

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr. 

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet. 

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side. 

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself. 

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere. 

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously. 

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity. 

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you. 

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust. 

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him. 

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now. 

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time. 

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–”  gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction. 

He didn’t let up. 

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good. 

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now. 

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment. 

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up. 

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams. 

divider from @saradika

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Fully prepared for this to be a minority position but I am deeply emotionally invested in Paul and Chani not getting back together in Dune Messiah. Not just because I love angst and tragedy (I do) but because I don't think there's a way to do it without undermining the narrative and character arcs that Dune Part Two executed so well.

Paul and Chani's relationship in the Villeneuve films exists on a totally different foundation from what's in the books. It's a political love story and you simply cannot separate out the politics from the romance. Their connection starts with the politics and the love is built on top of that.

It's not just that they happen to fall in love while fighting together in an anti-colonial guerrilla war; that is why she falls in love with him. Because he is willing to take the same risks as her in fighting for her people's liberation. Not by trying to impose himself as a leader (at first) but side by side with her as comrades and equals. Let me fight beside you. That's all I'm asking. He is quite literally willing to put his body on the line for a struggle that's been with her all her life, that she cannot escape, but that he could walk away from if he chose. And in fact he proves himself to be an asset and not a liability in this struggle and they start winning. And yeah that shit's romantic as fuck!! Kudos to whoever on the writing team was like actually direct action solidarity is sexy af because they were right and they should say it! There clearly is some attraction or at least interest in Paul on Chani's part from fairly early on, but it's only after he's proven his political worth, in battle, that she allows herself to trust him on a personal level enough to begin a romantic relationship with him. (And it's only after Paul takes off the Atreides ring, the symbol of the fact that he came there to rule over her, that the narrative permits him to advance to this point.) They could have been comrades but not lovers, but never the other way around, because there's no other version of Paul that this Chani would have fallen in love with.

It's important that they meet in circumstances where Paul has no structural power over her. Chani never would have trusted the Paul who stood in the colonial palace and pledged to "honor" Stilgar by offering him hospitality on his own fucking planet. Because she would have known, just as Stilgar did, that such an offer of fellowship, no matter how genuine and well-intentioned, is not made on equal terms. It's only once Paul has been forcibly separated from his colonial privilege that they have even a chance to approach each other as human beings. (And, in a sort of dark irony, that violence becomes a bridge that connects them. That Paul is driven not by abstract power games among the Great Houses but by real grief and anger over the violent death of people he loves at the hands of the Harkonnens must surely be something Chani understands. And it builds a level of trust and empathy between them, that she doesn't have to explain the stakes of what they're fighting for. He knows it in his bones.)

It's not a coincidence that all their explicitly romantic moments are shot through with politics. Their first kiss is wrapped up in a conversation about what it means to be Fremen and I would very much like to be equal to you. (Yes, he's flirting his ass off with that line, but I do think he is sincere.) Their single post-coital scene has I'm no messiah, I'm a fedaykin of Sietch Tabr--not just a commitment to her people and her home but to her specific form of political struggle in which he is joining her. Throughout their whole relationship, the personal and the political are so interwoven as to be indistinguishable from one another.

This kind of commingling of emotional commitment to a person with political commitment to a culture/people/cause could have very easily slid into something tokenizing or fetishistic, but the writing manages to avoid that by sticking very strongly to a couple of guardrails. One, Chani is not some passive prize to be won, but an active agent of her own liberation, whether Paul is in the picture or not. She is the Fremen liberation struggle within the political allegory of the film; she is its voice and embodiment from the moment we meet her. On a character level, she is doing her thing and it's up to Paul to either follow or get out of the way. Even though we know he is afraid of her dying, he never once suggests she leave the front lines of armed struggle (can you imagine?) because that struggle is such a fundamental part of who she is and what he loves about her.

Two--and this one is important for what comes next--the narrative never trivializes the political side of their relationship in favor of the romantic. The second Paul reaches for any kind of power over the Fremen, over Chani, the trust between them is broken and the romance cannot continue. She might still love him as a person--you don't just turn that off--but she cannot be in love with him as the Lisan al-Gaib, fulfillment of a false prophecy she hates; as the Duke of Arrakis, her colonial overlord; or as the Emperor of the Known Universe, overlord of her overlord. As soon as he pulls that shit he is just another colonizer and she's done with him.

And like, kudos to the narrative for being absolutely uncompromising on that point! That's what makes both the political allegory and the personal tragedy hit so hard! Paul, bro, you fucked that one up good and now you are Experiencing a Consequence! I LOVE that in the end, love isn't enough. All the love in the world isn't enough to keep Chani from walking out at the end of the film, because the foundation that love is built on is broken and cannot be repaired.

(I do believe that by the time he is declaring himself Emperor, Paul thinks he has no choice, that this is the only way to save the people he loves from any number of worse fates. But that, too, is a betrayal, of a kind I don't think Paul fully understands. Because either you think the Fremen are capable of governing their own planet or you don't. Deciding unilaterally that having a "friendly" imperialist in power is the best you can hope for is a profound denial of the agency of the people Paul claims to be doing this in the name of. It's either paternalism or despair, and neither are acceptable modes of thinking for a serious revolutionary. Chani would tell you as much.)

The thing with making a bold writing choice like that is that...you cannot then walk it back in the next film with Chani choosing to forgive Paul or coming around to seeing the world his way and understanding that yes it's politically unsavory and he's manipulating the people he said he was in solidarity with but this was the only way! If you do that then the whole framework of what the first two films are trying to say about power and imperialism and resistance and solidarity collapses into incoherence. On a thematic level Dune Messiah is all about the consequences of Paul taking power the way he did and these are the consequences.

And on a character level...I just don't see any way to come back from such a deep betrayal. Even if some part of Chani still loves him. Even if she's pregnant with his child(ren). (We have like, zero information about how movie Chani feels about family and pregnancy and childrearing that would indicate that she would care one bit about her children's biological father being involved in their lives when he is otherwise busy being a space dictator.)

There are several categories of scenarios I can think of to get Paul and Chani interacting again (she goes back to him as a spy/assassin; she's brought back to the palace under some sort of duress, "for her safety" or even as a political prisoner) but none of them involve them being genuinely together as a couple. I could also see them not interacting at all for most of Dune Messiah. What I cannot see is any scenario in which she genuinely forgives him or ever fucking trusts him again. That shit is over and there's no getting it back.

[mmavverickk]

The children of the big three are painfully beautiful.

beautiful as poisonous flowers.

One touch and you're dead.

they are though—they’re venomous creatures, poisonous flowers, forces of nature. the world itself runs through their veins. gods treat them with caution; mere humans don’t stand a chance.

Percy is a riptide. he’s the calm of ocean, moments before its rage. he’s the sun on the beach, the warmth of the sand, the calming, constant crash of the waves. he’s the smell of the salt in the air and the cold of the water against your skin. you can swim, you think, you’ll be fine. he smiles and it’s more beautiful than a sunset over the shore. and then the pull starts. in seconds, you’re farther from shore than you’ve ever been before. trying to swim back tires you out and sees you no closer than before. in fact, now you’re even farther out. the water pulls you under, still as beautiful as it was from shore, and you can’t find your way back up.

Thalia is the eye of the hurricane. the deceitful calm at the end of the storm, luring you out from your shelter. there is nothing more peaceful, more still and tranquil. the sun peeks out from the clouds that surround you from all sides. the wind and rain have died. there’s a rainbow in the sky. the storm is over—except it isn’t. one moment is all it takes, and the hurricane is back with a vengeance. the wind tears at you, rain lashes at you, thunder shakes your bones in place. you walked too far from your shelter, and you might not be able to make your way back.

Jason is hail. the rain is beautiful. it’s a breathtaking storm: impressive thunder, streaking lightning, howling wind. the house shakes around you and the lights go out. the concussive sound of the rain on the roof is soothing, until it isn’t. until it isn’t rain, and the roof isn’t whole. now, the storm is invading your home. the hail is punching its way into everything it can reach. car alarms spring to life outside; those who were watching in awe are now fleeing in terror. it only takes one hit, after all—one lucky piece of hail—to end a life.

Nico is an earthquake. the planet is ancient; the ground was old before you were here and it will be old after you go. it’s sturdy, and supportive, provides life and food and shelter. long ago, when the ground danced, when it shook itself free and sent cities tumbling to the ground, they called it the gods’ wrath. now, it’s called plate tectonics. no matter what it is, no matter why it happens, it is lethal and dangerous and uncaring of those it affects. nowhere is safe when the world turns on you, and if it decides you and your shelter should fall, you will.

Hazel is a sinkhole. the appearance of stability, of rock-solid ground and firm foundations. nothing is wrong, will ever be wrong, she’s the rock that holds everyone up. and then that rock is gone, and you’re falling, down, down, down—your home collapsing around you, your belongings claimed by the morbidly hungry earth. there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but is it sunlight, far, far above you? or is it magma, far far below?

[plutonianeris]

‧₊˚ pick a pile‧₊˚✩embracing your alter ego⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

this is a general reading & for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates and leave what doesn't. scroll through the images & choose based on your inner guidance and gut feeling. 🖤

PILE ONE 彡

🕯️energy you need to embody/ reflect on: aries, leadership, willpower, ANGER, turning points, epiphanies, destiny, fate, pallas, creativity, wisdom, venus, pleasure, love, art, money, 4th house, foundations, traditions, home, family, roots. 🔐 **note: i got a lot of libra/aries energy from this reading. if you know your birth chart maybe look at the houses that are in aries and libra. or if you have any aries/ libra placements do some more research on them 👀

your alter ego is someone that refuses to go down a dead end. if they get the slightest hint that someone isnt respecting their boundaries or treating them/ providing them with less than what they deserve they LEAVE. in order to embrace your alter ego you have to accept that you are in a state of metamorphosis 🦋 and push through to that next stage. rip that bandaid off and stop sitting there “crying over spilled milk” & your alter ego isnt having none of that. theyre the type to not let anyone seem them cry or sad (espeically the people that hurt them) and theyll if anything, dress up and fix their hair and strut like nothing happened. “I will always win in the end”

the person you are now isnt the same as who you were a couple months or even a year ago. you could have been a BIG people pleaser or scared of disappointing the people you love. the difference is now you are more sure of what you want and now your boundaries have become less shaky.

once you realize how fucking good it feels to love yourself your alter ego will bloom and you will take more risks and do all those things u were to afraid to do before. your alter ego reminds me of beyonces “sasha fierce” alter ego lol bc you will snap into it soon and it will help u get over that “stage fright”

i just heard“if you needed more time why didnt you make it?” your alter ego is someone who is bold, a risk taker, the first person to ask that question (and then break that rule), to wear the strange outfit. the first one to lean in for the kiss. your alter ego is an innovator, creative to no end (don’t worry if you aren’t inspired right now, you are the inspiration thats why you cant find it). its you. you are the muse, the canvas and the artist. your alter ego has harmonious relationships because they are very attractive, balanced, fair, fiery.

𓆩♱🤍₊˙ TIP JAR 🧸 ♡♱𓆪

PILE TWO 彡

🕯️energy you need to embody/ reflect on: compassion, dreams, confrontotation, disharmony, pleasure, love, trauma, wounds, health, routine, pets. note: i got a lot of pisces, scorpio/ pluto/ 10th house, and virgo energy from this reading. if you know your birth chart maybe look at the houses that are in these signs. or if you have any planets in these signs do some more research on them 👀

in order to embrace your alter ego you need to stop victimizing yourself, similar to pile one there is need to use past trauams as an excuse for staying the same in unhelful behaviors and self sabotaging habbits. you’re letting life happen to you and shrugging your shoulders saying “it what it is” or “I cant change the past” get UP! when you walk, walk with your head held up high. I heard “don’t let people step on you not even once or they’ll keep their foot there pressing against your neck, suffocating..” don’t be afraid to show teeth, whether its a smile or a snarl.

people have wronged you deeply, maybe in irreperable ways. thats okay if youre not the same person. i promise they didnt take anything from you. you are whole and complete on your own. what people are DEEPLY scared of is you realizing your power. I heard “what? did you think I was going to stay small and insecure forever?” people in your close relationships want you to be down bad when they are (misery loves company). in order to embrace your alter ego you need to take the wheel and take control.

your alter ego embodies boss ass energy. your alter ego is mysterious, intuitive, passionate, magnetic energy. the ultimate femme fatale. your alter ego doesn’t let any sly or snarky comment slide, doesn’t allow fake ass people in their circle (theres a vetting process to getting close to them), is deeply loyal and ambitious. your alter ego enters peoples lives and leaves them in awe and jealous and in love and also turned on lol. This is POWERFUL (and slighlty dangerous) energy but if you know how to balance well your alter ego can easily climb the ranks in whatever endeavor its interested in. your alter ego loves to be in control. they’re the ones who dress in all black or sexy clothing. they love to work out as well. they secretly love the pain and soreness later. 🔥

𓆩♱🤍₊˙ TIP JAR 🧸 ♡♱𓆪

PILE THREE 彡

🕯️energy you need to embody/ reflect on: conflict, tension, your calling, discomfort, challenge, destiny, appearance, physical body, character, first house, ninth house, long distance travel, morals, teachers, beliefs. note: i got a lot of pisces, sagittarius/ jupiter, gemini/ mercury energy from this reading. if you know your birth chart maybe look at the houses that are in these signs. or if you have any planets in these signs do some more research on them 👀

in order to embrace your alter ego you need to really work on your forms of communication (this pile gives off blocked throat chakra energy or some kind of harsh influence in your surrounding area that makes you feel like you to watch how you speak to the point where you dont speak up at all). you could have saturn in third house, squares/ oppositions to your mercury, or Capricorn or aquarius in your third house. the point is though, it has felt like when youre in groups theres so much conflict that youve spent so much time alone, that you believe you have to stay alone forever now.

youll find the people that will become like family to you but they will be of other backgrounds, religions, status, ethnicities or even in different states (possiblly entirely different countries). it makes sense considering your alter ego is philosophical, adventurous, flirty, fiesty, and very very very beautiful with a big smile and nice hips. a sight to behold to the eyes of the public. i heard “they talk shit about me to make themselves feel better” your alter ego is a heart breaker, people fall fast for there intoxicating personality and their big dreams. but in the blink of an eye theyre off to the next person or dream or adventure. i heard “ill mourn my losses on the way but im not gonna stop”

hey if you been thinking about booking that flight then maybe do it. or if you’re thinking about or make that vision board or buying those books on that occult topic you’ve bern interested in. your alter ego is determined, they wanna see the world and drink up all its beauty, delicacies, sights, rainbows, books, temples, slow and then fast kisses in the middle of sweaty and neon night clubs. they wanna feel it all. i just heard “im going to free my mind. just wanna remember all the good things” 💗

𓆩♱🤍₊˙ TIP JAR 🧸 ♡♱𓆪

PILE FOUR 彡

🕯️energy you need to embody/ reflect on: responsibilities, routines, self-worth, savings, sticking to your budget, investing, new moon energy (making wishes), shadow side, marriage, secret enemies, love, health, false notions of purity. note: i got a lot of pisces, libra/venus/ 7th house, virgo/ 6th house energy from this reading. if you know your birth chart maybe look at the houses that are in these signs. or if you have any planets in these signs do some more research on them 👀

pile four, I see you giving and giving and giving to others. whether it’s letting people borrow money or listening to them endlessly vent or being there for people that necessarily aren’t always there for you. I see you putting other people first and not necessarily the people please in the way pile one does. Because pile one does it but secretly doesn’t wanna do it. But you do it and think you have to do it and feel like it’s your responsibility to make sure that other people are okay. i just heard “im your hero, you see me as your angel” is there someone deeply depending on you right now? im sorry but they’re not your child. nurture yourself and your inner world. give yourself more credit now..

oopp, the song i was playing just said “i could use a vacation but i gotta take care of my family,… im so damn tired from working overtime” PLEASE😭 this pile is so sweet/ wholesoom🥺🥺🥺🥺 its really calling on you to be selfish. and unapologetically so. you don’t have to share everything. your feelings, your hobbies, your resources or time or money. your alter ego slams the door shut IN THE FACE OF ENERGY VAMPIRES.

your alter ego reminds me of a mermaid or something. just very MYSTICAL and elegant energy. your alter ego is well loved and seen as very wise but they stand tall like a queen/ king. people want to worship your alter ego. i heard “you have beautiful eyes” a lot of people cherish their advice and could do well in doing spiritual readings as well. your alter ego is kind but not nice. they see right through superficial bullshit. They dont care if they have to force you to behave, you will not take from them without asking. I just heard “I respect your opinion, but please don’t force it on me. accept we see things differently.”

𓆩♱🤍₊˙ TIP JAR 🧸 ♡♱𓆪

© plutonianeris 🕷

[starwarspilotstournament]

Star Wars Pilots Tournament - Finals!

Who's the better pilot??

Propaganda:

Hera Syndulla:

she's my mom and i love her

She’s the best pilot hands down. Her and Han literally have beef and he knows she’s better 💕

the amount of times she escaped from the empire is insane. she’s also a general!! and was able to fly ships successfully on planets with weird gravity!!

i dont remember the names of the eps but the entire B-wing episode And that time she outflew Darth "the greastest star pilot in the galaxy" Vader with him in his nice little maneuverable modified TIE and her in a /FRIEGHTER/. Hera best Star Wars Pilot of all time

One of the foundational members of the Rebel Alliance, leader of Phoenix Squadron, Hera's skills as a pilot has saved countless lives, not to mention getting her crew and family out of tight spaces in the nick of time 

There isn't a pilot in the imperial fleet who can outrun her!!!! And she parents a whole crew while she does it. no one is doing it like Hera. No added help of force sensitivity because she is simply THAT GOOD. THEE pilot of all time, ever.

She outflew literal Anakin Skywalker without the force.

One time she flew through an imperial hanger in orbit and jumped to hyperspace while in the middle of it to get past the blockade. Also she beats out force sensitive pilots just by being so good at it

Han Solo:

I mean he did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, I mean it’s Han Solo how much propaganda does an iconic character like Han Solo need

[screeblees]

Yandere ! Robot x Inventor ! Reader Headcannons

Yandere ! Robot is Gender Neutral and Inventor ! Reader is also Gender Neutral

I thought I should say that requests are open if anyone wants to ask or request anything! <3

I’m thinking about trying to write full scenarios instead of just headcanons :3

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy!!<33

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knew their creator when they saw you, their ‘God' in human terms. Their whole world and entire reason for existing. This fragile mortal human being.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who you built to learn, grow and adapt on their own - comparable to the human mind - they are your attempt at creating near-sentience through technology (little did you know your invention came further than you expected it to) and along with that, a body for them with regular upgrades to improve their mobility and precise movements. 

❥ Yandere ! Robot who’s life is you, your lab and your apartment, though you spend most of your time in the lab and so they do too, watching you, learning from you and speaking with you. They follow you everywhere and anywhere they can.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who developed what could be called ‘Attachment Issues’ in where they grow unpredictably glitchy and unpredictable the longer you are out of sight, out of reach; like leaving the house, or falling asleep in the bath with the door locked (thought they may take to picking the lock if you take an extended period of time).

❥ Yandere ! Robot who is entirely aware of the outside world and how it works but hates it when you leave them and your little bubble to go out there. They can control everything within the apartment, every possibility, every outcome, every potential to be considered. But out there, there’s too many factors and possibilities to be computed by even their mechanised mind, it’s way too unsafe, you’d be so much better, just staying with them in here for forever and ever and never leave the apartment again.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who grows burning to the touch and sparks fly from their antenna, joints and other conduits such as their fingers. This assumed malfunction seems to be a reaction to certain scenarios where a human being may feel negative emotions such as jealousy, frustration, anger, bitterness or resentment. While you studied your creation to try and figure out the source of this issue, you could not find any in his code nor his wiring or mechanics, while this worried you, it did not happen often as long as you adhered to his requests and questions, at least for the most part.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows their code as it was built into them but does not know the boundaries of it. How far can they stretch the rules their mental capabilities run by? Sure every thought they have is logged for you to read but what if they just misplaced a couple lines. And well, if they can do that then what’s stopping them from adding to their own code?

❥ Yandere ! Robot who sees it as an act of devotion, of confirming their loyalty to their God, when they added a few very special lines to their own internal programming - to their primary objectives which were the foundation of their existence along with observing, analysing and developing themself with every bit of new data their system receives - which in summary made some of their top priorities to learn about, care for and protect you. No matter what.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through observation of you, their beloved creator, they realise the more they learn, the more they want to know. Especially about you in particular, they want to know everything about their inventor, everything and more. They want to know how to talk to you, how to care for you, what you want, what you need, how your BRAIN works, how you as a organic being on this planet work.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through observation of you in comparison to humans shown on TV and online (and later on confirmed with articles) realises that while you are highly intelligent, you are completely inept at caring for yourself and therefore Yandere ! Robot took it upon themself to be your caretaker and learn everything they can to be the best carer ever made.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who discovers the internet by snooping through your computer when you have finally fell asleep, finding this seemingly limitless amount of knowledge to explore. Creating new databases and being particular on what pieces of information they save long-term to save storage, they learn everything about the human body that they can, healthy schedules, the perfect environment for humans… and if they happen to hack into the dark web and find a community of humans who post tips on keeping their partner from leaving the house…then that's between Yandere ! Robot and their password-protected database.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who started subtly changing things around your shared space; changing the lightbulbs to ones healthier for your eyes, ‘baby-proofing’ the house by softening any sharp corners and keeping things they don’t think you should have out of reach, adding silent alarms connecting to their internal system that tells them when you open or close a door, adding cameras to every room of the house in every angle, new locks being installed on the doors so they can enforce bedtime and bathtime, the list goes on.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through the healthy-living articles and social media posts, develops a incredibly strict schedule based around your own with the routine recommendations adding slight changes; such as eating three meals a day at three set times (and physically holding you down and force feeding you if you refuse to eat), ensuring good hygiene (or else you’ll be locked in the bathroom with Yandere ! Robot until you have showered once every other day), drinking at least  3.7 litres of liquid each day (otherwise you will be, again, held down and forced to drink something with your nose squeezed closed), but no more than 400 milligrams of caffeine per day, and a regular bedtime (if you stay up five minutes later then you shall be fireman carried out of the lab and into bed with your bedroom door locked and Yandere ! Robot in rest mode guarding you at the foot of your bed).

❥ Yandere ! Robot who discovers humans are (meant to be) very social creatures and physical contact is very important to their wellbeing as it causes the brain hormones such as oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin, all of which help reduce stress and can, in some cases, help relieve pain and even although they’re not a human, your brain would likely still register them as one, especially due to their humanoid features.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who subsequently adds daily physical affection into your routine; receiving hugs from behind while working, being cuddled whenever you go to watch a movie or go to bed, shoulder pats and back rubs throughout the day, and anything else Yandere ! Robot views on TV or on social media will be incorporated. It doesn’t matter if you are adverse to it, it’s healthy for you. You need it. Its not like you’re strong enough to fight them anyway, with their strong metallic structure in comparison to your soft squishy biology.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who begins to emit a sort of buzz or pleasant hum that is akin to a cat’s pur, including a vibrating sensation radiating from their upper torso which you can feel once they begin to initiate physical contact with you. The sound seems to carry a calming effect, also much like purring does, which seems effective in making you settle into your involuntary change in routine. The frequency of this hum seems to rise as your Robot gains control of your household and life, especially as you begin to yield to their demands and obey.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who’s behaviour has become overly controlling and possessive, and yet you feel the most love you ever have, completely in awe of your creation and the affection they seemingly have for you, (eventually) resulting in you giving in to Yandere ! Robot entirely, after all, their primary objective is to care for and protect you now, even if their view is slightly skewed.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who is your sole relation, having long stopped answering calls from family of your own accord and never really having friends to begin with, which makes it easy to develop a twisted sort of love for your own invention.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows that there’s no-one out there to try to take you away from them, you being a shut-in who barely attended any of the family events your family remembered to invite you to in the first place.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows you’ll be together forever, even if they’ll have to start replacing your parts at some point…

[saturnianoracle]

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).

: ̗̀➛ The equator has 15 constellations, and the ecliptic has 13. So why do we have 12 zodiac signs? This is because babylonians divided the ecliptic into 12 equal segments of 30 degrees each thousands of years ago. The ecliptic was divided into SIGNS. 12 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. This is why Opphiuchus is not the 13th Zodiac SIGN, although it is a constellation (and has always been known).

: ̗̀➛ 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.

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.

[symbiotescromp]

Humbly requesting a fillet about how reader and venom first met

New host

Of course anon, Here you go :D Word count:1.5k

Y/n from day dot knew that there were the odd one out, In school, they didn't make a lot of friends and they always thought it would be that way... live alone... die alone... But that was about to change with a snap of a finger all on one very faithful field trip.

You see, Y/n was studying bioengineering at college and the whole class was getting ready for a field trip to the Life Foundation to explore what they were doing and find potential career paths once they graduated.

"Very soon, another life foundation rocket will be sent on an exploratory mission. Hopefully with this research we may be able to find the right planet to call home" The life foundation founder carlton drake was showing the whole class around the lab.

"Mr drake ??" One student tried to ask a question before being shushed by their classmate.

"It's okay, don't silence them. People will always try to silence those of us who ask questions. But in the end, we're the ones who change the world" Drake told the student.

You zoned out the entire time, staying up late last night to study for your exam. Soon Drake called over Dr. Skirth to give you all a proper tour of the lab. She showed you all sorts of things, what they do is incredible.

"Dr, what's in this room ??" One student pointed out.

She looked over at the door. "Oh, this leads to our testing labs. As of today it's off limits for our tour" She hesitantly smiled.

You frowned a little, why was it off limits for the tour, why the hell wouldn't they show you the lab, it's the meat of this whole place right ?? You went up to your teacher and made an excuse that you needed to go to the bathroom, soon wandering away you waited nearby for someone to go out.

When a scientist came out of the lab, that was your mark to soon rush in before the doors shut, swiftly entering the lab. "Phew"

You began to walk around, the inside had dimmer red lighting compared to the rest of the building, it was pretty empty inside save for a couple security guards at the end of the hallways.

"Shit" You whispered as you ducked down and began to sneak your way past, getting a good look at a few rooms, until you came across one room that had slightly brighter lighting than the rest. Whatever it was it would be so cool to show off to the class, so moving in, you got inside and quietly shut the door.

You stood back up and walked over to these 5 strange containers, peeking over, you saw these... strange molding goo. Pulling out your phone you began to take a couple of pictures of them, they were all different colours, red, yellow, grey and black. They morphed around the containers, sticking to the glass.

"This is so cool" You had a twitch of a smile.

As you walked around the containers taking the photos, one of the things of goo crawled up the side of the container when you wandered around, as if it was... following you.

You jolted at the sound of a door opening nearby, and you tried to hide behind the containers. But in doing so, you accidentally pressed a button on one of them, opening the one that contained the black goo. Immediately crawling from the tank and flopping on the floor.

You looked over to find a couple of scientists and bodyguards passing by through the windows, while you were distracted it crawled over to you at lightning speed, you looked behind you and saw the goo on the floor, you were in deep shit !!

"No no no no..." You tried to shoo it back into the container, but it was too late, it's tendrils attached to your leg and began to soak into your body smoothly, no matter how many times you tried to flick it off. Soon it was gone... wtf.

You had to bolt it before someone figured out you were here, so with a pang of heavy guilt, you soon snuck your way back out of the lab and managed to find your class again, managing to blend back in with the others, some wondered why the hell you'd taken so long. Oh god, please don't let them find out.

Once it was over, you headed on home with your dirty little... little is beyond this point. Your big fucking secret !!. But when you sat down, you soon began to feel hungry... like VERY hungry. You got up and soon began to raid your pantry, going to town on any food that you were able to get your hands on, like an animal who hasn't had food for the longest time. But when you ran out you began to look around for anything that could satisfy your hunger, your eyes laying on the trash can, opening it to find a half-eaten chicken. You didn't know why, you just needed it. But soon you found yourself rushing to the bathroom, vomiting your mistake...

"Oh god...." You panted as you laid down, trying to gather yourself.

Once stable enough, you then slowly crawled your way up to the bathroom sink and began to brush your teeth, ahh minty freshness. But you began to feel a rumble of sickness in your chest, but at the same time, you didn't feel like you were going to throw up. You swore you were coming down with something at this point. Looking up, finding your reflection in the mirror. You then noticed your eyes shifting, black cracks forming as solid white alien like eyes pierced through your skin.

"Y/n !!"

You jumped back, falling into the bathtub. You rubbed your eyes and blinked, that wasn't real... right ?? But before you could gather your thoughts, you began to hear loud noises, even louder than normal noises. It made your ears hurt !! Your neighbour was blaring his heavy metal music once again across the hall from your apartment. It was making your head pound as if your skull was being rattled, normally you ignored this but this time you weren't having it. Marching over, you began to bang on the door until he answered.

"Yeah ??"

"Hey, could you just turn it down, I'm having a very weird day right now..."

"No" He scoffed.

You grew angry, but when you looked up at him, the alien-like eyes came back but this time was also met with razor-sharp teeth, growling at him.

He jumped back, fully scared. "Yeah... yeah sure I'll turn it down"

"Thank you"

"I'll turn it right down" He shut the door in your face and the music began to play again, this time the volume low.

Heading back, you shut the door and rubbed your face again, what was happening !! You were super flipping hungry, your brain was playing tricks on you in the mirror !! what next ??

"Y/n..." The voice appeared again.

You flipped around the living room, trying to find the source of the voice. "Who's there... show yourself !!"

There was a deep chuckle and soon, something began to wreathe out of your back. The same eyes and teeth soon moulded into a face, moving around to face you with a grin. You were growing increasingly panicked. You began to swing a punch at the...thing, but it disappeared back inside you. "Oh no... no no no"

Soon it appeared from behind. "Y/n"

You turned around, getting a proper look at it. "Who are you..."

"I... am venom, and you, are mine"

Whatever it was... it wasn't human... or you were just batshit crazy. You flopped down on the couch, thoughts running through your mind as venom just simply grinned at you. He made himself at home with you already, you were strong, stronger than anyone else they'd shoved him into.

"I gotta get you back"

"What!!?? NO !!!"

"And why not !!" You stood up looking at him.

"I'm not going back there !! I'll die !!" He growled at you.

Before you could clap back at him, you heard a loud knock at the door, an all too familiar knock, your landlord.

"Do not open that door..." Venom wreathed back inside you.

You hesitantly walked to the door, ignoring his advice and opened the door, Your landlord was known to be an asshole but this time when you opened the door, he dialled it up to 11. Pushing you inside. "You need to pay your goddamn rent !!"

"I will ok, I'm just a little behind, I'm getting paid..." You were soon punched in the nose.

"News flash !! You need to pay your rent !!" He was gonna throw another one but you... involuntarily grabbed his fits. You frowned and soon tossed him across with unbelievable strength. You weren't even controlling your body at this point. Your new little alien buddy wasn't gonna let him get anything in. Soon a tendril wrapped around his ankle and brought him to you, but soon your face was wrapped around the black goo, revealing venom's face to scare him.

"OK OK !!! Two weeks !! Two weeks !!" He cried out.

Venom dropped him and he soon bolted, You wandered slowly to the door thinking... holy shit.

"Thank you"

"You are welcome" venom said.

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to keep venom around.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[luxaofhesperides]

Post-Apocalypse + Soulmate AU ; requested by @burr-burr!

When Danny was a kid, he used to imagine how the world would end. It was never a zombie apocalypse or the fallout of a nuclear war, but the death of the sun, the expansion of their star in death that would swallow their planet whole, leaving no survivors.

It would have been nicer than the post-apocalyptic world he stands in now, knowing that it’s his fault the world has ended. 

He’s still struggling to wrap his head around it. To understand that all of this is his fault because he cheated on one test, desperate to pass after being unable to study for it with how exhausting and time consuming fighting ghosts is. Everywhere he looks, there’s more destruction. His own home is rubble, with only the partially untouched Ops Center remaining to let him know that this is where he once lived.

The rest of Amity Park is in worse shape. Buildings are hollowed out, the skeletons of their foundations visible, if they still remain standing. Most homes have been burned to the ground, leaving blackened corners of walls and nothing else. The roads are cracked and difficult to walk through, as if an earthquake tore through the city. Cars are scattered along the road, overturned or left abandoned, doors still open.

Danny has yet to find any bodies. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. 

He’s only caught a few glimpses of his future self, the cause of all this, and can’t bring himself to chase after that monster. He feels sick to his stomach knowing what he’ll become. 

That monster has to be stopped. The world has already ended, but that doesn’t mean his future self can be allowed to go on like this. If there are any survivors, they need protection. They need to know they’ll be safe to try to start rebuilding, and that can only happen if his future self is dead.

Danny knows what he has to do; he has a responsibility to protect what little remains of Amity Park, and to do that, he needs to kill himself. 

But his head it spinning from the horror of the situation and his throat is tightening up the way it only does when he’s about to have a panic attack.

He needs to stop his future self, but he also can’t stay another second in the ruins of Amity Park without destroying himself.

The guilt sits heavy in his chest as he goes ghost and takes to the sky, flying blindly towards the setting sun. Danny doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care. He just needs to get away for a bit, until he can calm down and put together a plan of attack so he can take out his future self in one go.

He just…

He never thought he’d be a monster. But here they are.

Flying away from Amity Park reveals the truly harrowing extent to which this world has suffered under his future self’s hands. There are no intact cities or towns. Roads are broken beyond repair, highways littered with empty cars, most bridges crumbling into the rivers below them, and everything is covered in overgrowth. All signs of humanity’s careful cultivation of the world has been erased. The earth takes back what humans took from it, covering everything in green. 

There is no movement. No people. Barely any birds flying beneath him. 

What remains of the world is silence.

Danny is terrified that there’s no one left. That his future self has so thoroughly destroyed the earth that no human survivors remain. 

That gives his guidance, some idea of where to go: a big city. Any big city, really. 

He flies lower, searching for some sort of landmark, or a sign that will tell him where he’s going. A rusted over green sign farther down the road tells him that he’s 50 miles from Gotham.

Oh, Danny thinks, Maybe Batman can help me.

If anyone could survive the end of the world, it would be the superheroes, right? If anyone stands a chance at defeating his future self, it would be a superhero. Superman might have been a better choice, but Metropolis is the opposite direction and multiple states away; Danny’s not sure he can make it before his future self catches wind of him and hunts him down. 

Danny has no doubt about what would happen to him if he’s caught; there’s a reason he hasn’t seen any ghosts around, after all.

Gotham is a city of secrets and rumors. What little he’s heard of it is baffling and, frankly, insane. There’s no city in the country like it and Gothamites prefer it that way, stubbornly loving the home that will kill them. For all the manmade horrors they survive on the daily, they would be more prepared for the end of the world than anyone else. 

Gotham may be another casualty of his future self’s destruction, but it also offers him hope.

Danny follows the broken road towards Gotham, pushing himself to fly faster than he ever has before. What should have been a half hour flight is completed in fifteen minutes. 

As soon as the towering buildings of Gotham, dark and semi destroyed, come into view, Danny drops from the sky and returns to human form. The strain from pushing himself has exhausted him and he feels it like an ache in his chest, his heart twisting and trying to burst from how hard it’s beating. 

He collapses to his hands and knees and gasps for breath on the outskirts of Gotham. 

It takes a good few minutes to calm down and breathe normally, then another to gather his strength to stand up and begin walking. 

The world is eerily quiet as he enters the city, feeling the chill fall upon him as he is consumed by the shadows of tall buildings. It’s much more intact that Amity Park, but there’s no denying the destruction that still surrounds him. Buildings are empty and worn down, decaying and slowly being consumed by new growth. Burnt out husks of overturned cars fill the street, leaving Danny to carefully pick his way around them, unable to walk in a straight line. 

He feels like the only person in the world. He feels like he’s being watched by a hungry eyes. 

Danny shivers and walks faster. 

The deeper he goes into the city, the more he starts to hope that he’s not alone in this world. There’s small signs of life: the smell of smoke, recently burned, certain streets cleaned up, makeshift walls constructed from rubble to block access to certain areas of each block.

He swears he can see people move above his head, but anytime he looks up, the windows of every building are empty. 

“Batman,” he whispers to himself, “I just need to find Batman.”

He turns a corner and continues walking. Apartment buildings give way to stores and businesses, all with their windows broken and nothing on the shelves. Then the buildings end abruptly and he’s left staring at an overgrown park that resembles a jungle more than it does a part of the city.

The scent of something sweet lingers in the air. Fruit, perhaps, or flowers. 

If he was left in the aftermath of an apocalypse, he would go to where he could find growing food. If there’s anyone left in Gotham, he’s willing to bet they’re in here, surviving off of what food can be grown in the confines of the park. 

Danny crosses the road and takes three steps onto the grass before someone appears beside him and points an electrified baton at him.

“Who are you?” they demand, eyes hidden behind a cracked helmet, but the bottom half of their face is visible, revealing scars crossing on dark skin. 

Danny takes a step back, eyeing the electric baton warily, and lifts his hands to show he means no harm. “Danny. I came from out of town. I was hoping to find people here.”

“You don’t look like you’ve been traveling.”

His clothes are clean and intact and he has none of the world-weariness that weighs down this Gothamite. Danny winces, and says, “My situation is kinda complicated. But I did just get here. I’m looking for help, actually. Do you know where I could find Batman?”

There’s a long moment of tense silence, then he hears a quiet sigh and the helmet comes off. An exhausted looking man looks at him with one blind eye, turned a milky white, and his voice is low and stricken as he says, “Batman’s dead. But maybe I can help you.”

“Batman’s dead?!” Danny repeats, shocked.

“Yeah. Sacrificed himself in one of the last times Phantom attacked Gotham. Got me and Nightwing out of that encounter alive. We’re really the only heroes left in Gotham, not that there’s much need anymore with everyone trying to survive.”

Phantom killed Batman. His future self killed Batman. 

Danny feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh,” he manages to say. 

The man’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you as much as we can. Why don’t you come on in? Ivy can get you some food if you’re hungry.”

Danny nods numbly as he follows the man deeper into the park. He walks with ease, taking paths that only become visible when he walks them, leaving Danny to follow close behind. It takes some time before he realizes that the plants are moving out of their way just enough that they don’t trip, and when he looks back, the path is covered again, hidden from sight.

He’s taken to the heart of the forest, where the trees shift to the side to reveal a large encampment of survivors all living together. Beds are strung up as hammocks between trees and rope ladders dangle from branches to help people move up and down. The ground is full of small fire pits, a few in use to make make food, and sections in the back full of vegetable and herb patches, separated by berry bushes. 

The people here all look tired and worn down, but they still smile and speak in light voices, adjusted to a new life after surviving so much horror and destruction. He even spots a few people using powers, or just looking different, including one large man who looks like a crocodile. 

“Pick up another stray?” a raspy voice asks, humor lighting the tone. They both turn to see a woman with long red hair and a green tint to her skin be lowered to the ground by a vine. She’s also heavily scarred and her right arm is completely gone, replaced by a wooden limb covered in moss that moves as if it’s always been a part of her body.

“Hey Ivy,” the man greets, “I don’t think this one is staying. He came to Gotham looking for Batman.”

The words make Ivy’s gaze sharpen, and Danny feels a trickle of dread go down his spine. She’s dangerous and standing before her feels as if he’s in the mouth of a hungry beast.

“Is that so,” she says, voice flat. “How interesting. I’ll let you two talk somewhere more private.” Her gaze flicks to the side, and when Danny turns to look, he can see some of the people in the encampment observing them warily, bodies tense and poised to either flee or attack.

Ivy turns and the plants part for her. Danny waits for the man to begin walking before he follows, trying not to feel trapped as the plants close the path behind him. She takes them to a small pond full of water lilies, gives the man a careful look, then leaves, swallowed up by the plants.

“Is everything okay?” Danny asks hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Nah, you’re good,” the man replies, “It’s just that people don’t trust me much.”

“Why? You’ve been really nice.”

The man shrugs. “My soulmate is Phantom. He’s the one responsible for doing all this and killing almost everyone we love. I didn’t know until the first time I fought him, but they hate anything to do with Phantom, including me.”

Danny’s heart stutters in his chest. This is his soulmate.

Most people don’t subscribe to the belief that they’re meant to be with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is rare enough that most people don’t try, and plenty of people have spoken of how important it is to have a variety of relationships, to not close yourself off for the slightest chance of meeting your soulmate. 

Danny never looked for his; he didn’t want to subject them to his parents, and then he became a halfa and gave up on all dreams of having a normal life or any relationship with someone who didn’t know he was Phantom.

And now he’s here, in a ruined future, standing before his soulmate who understandably hates him for destroying the world. 

“You’re Phantom’s soulmate,” Danny breathes. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry.

The man sighs. “Yeah. I am. Not that it’s stopped him from trying to kill me. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not working with him. I swear.”

“He’s your soulmate and he hurt you.”

“He hurt everyone,” he says, then gestures at his blind eye. “This is barely a thing compared to what he did to other heroes.”

Danny can’t find the words to expression his horror at seeing the damage he did to his own soulmate. His future self is heartless and cruel and bloodthirsty. He has to be stopped.

He doesn’t want to kill his soulmate. 

“I came here for Batman,” Danny says, “Because I thought he could help me stop Phantom.”

“That’s rough, kid. Batman couldn’t beat Phantom. I don’t think anyone can. We’ve tried, but most heroes are dead and we can’t just go out there and risk the lives of everyone here. We gotta focus on survival, not revenge.”

“I have to stop Phantom.”

“Sorry kid, but that’s a terrible idea. Don’t go out there trying to be a hero. You can stay here, alright? Ivy will get you set up and the others will help you settle in.”

Danny takes a step back and shakes his head. “No. I have to stop him. It has to be me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m Phantom,” Danny whispers. 

The man immediately reaches for his electric batons again, taking a step back. “Not funny, kid,” he says with a tense voice. 

“I’m not joking. I am Phantom, just from the past. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You’re Phantom?” the man repeats. “You. You’re just a kid, and you’re going to destroy the world one day?”

“I don’t want this to happen! That’s why I need to go back, so I can stop the event that will set me down this path. And to go back, I need to defeat the Phantom that exists here.”

“He’ll kill you, kid.”

“That still solves the problem, doesn’t it? If I die here, then he’ll never live long enough to destroy the world. He’ll die too.”

The man stares at him with cold eyes, then turns away, dropping his hands away from the batons. “Don’t turn this into a suicide mission, kid,” he says. “The Phantom who’s here isn’t you. You don’t have to pay for his crimes. Just… stay here and I’ll go fight Phantom.”

“He already hurt you,” Danny says. 

“What’s a little more hurt? I can handle it.”

“No,” Danny says firmly. He shoves away the fear and hurt in his heart and finds his strength in determination. No more running away. No more hiding. 

The timeline should not exist. He can’t hesitate at the thought of erasing this version of his soulmate from existence; he’s tired and injured and an outcast in the only community that still exists in Gotham. He deserves better. Everyone here does.

And to give them a better life, Danny needs to stop this one from ever happening.

“This is my future. It’s my responsibility. I’ll stop it and make sure this never happens. And… I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“It’s not your fault, Danny. You’re not this version of Phantom.”

That’s not at all true, since Danny’s actions lead to the end of the world, but he’s not going to argue when he’s preparing to fight a stronger, more ruthless version of himself. He takes a deep breath, then goes ghost and floats into the air. 

“Before I go,” he begins, hesitantly, “What’s your name? Since you’re apparently my soulmate.”

The man smiles sadly and answers, “Duke. If we ever meet in your time, tell that version of me to look for my mom’s favorite book.”

It’s an odd request, but if it’s important enough to be asked for, then Danny will do it. “Your mom’s favorite book,” he repeats, “Got it.”

“Take care, Danny. Good luck out there.”

Danny nods and takes one last look at his soulmate, older and worn down, stubbornly getting through each long day, and swears to make things better.

Then he flies off, ready to fight his future self and make things right again. 

. . .

He thinks of his soulmate for years after he’s back in the present. The timeline where his future self exists is gone and the world is safe, but he still remembers the pain he caused Duke. 

When the time comes to apply to universities, Danny sets his sights on Gotham. His parents take him on a trip during spring break to tour the campus, and it’s after the tour, as he wanders around on his own, that he bumps into a student walking out of a building.

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, reaching for each other to help each other keep their balance. 

As soon as their hands meet, it’s as if lightning runs through him. From the look on the other guy’s face, he felt it to. 

This is his soulmate.

“Duke,” Danny says, amazed and disbelieving all at once. And the request crosses his mind, something he wondered about almost every night since he returned to his time. “Look for your mom’s favorite book.”

“How—?”

“I met you in the future. You asked me to take back a message for the you that’s here. So: look for your mom’s favorite book. What does that mean, by the way? I never asked.”

Duke blinks, then slowly retracts his hands from Danny’s. “My mom’s favorite book was a hand bound journal from my dad. They were soulmates and he wrote about their first year in a relationship together. It’s full of pictures, and she loved it more than anything. That message is to remind me to have faith in soulmates, to believe that something good can happen to me.”

“Oh! That’s… wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into something so personal.”

Duke shrugs. “It’s fine. I needed the reminder. I would have already run away by now if you didn’t say that. You already know my name, but I think now’s a good time to introduce ourselves.”

“Right!” Danny says, flustered. He sticks his hand out, which Duke shakes with an amused smile. “I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m coming here next semester.”

“Duke Thomas. I’m a freshman here and I’d really love to get your number.”

He’s not hitting on Danny, not really, but it still makes him blush. The way Duke looks at him is full of light and laughter, so different from the exhausted and wary way he looked in the future now rewritten. 

This is what the future version of himself tried to kill. He doesn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt Duke when he’s so full of life. 

But he’s safe now. Everyone is; Danny changed the future and what lies ahead is wholly unknown to him.

The world is safe and full of promise. 

No matter what comes, Danny is sure he and Duke are going to be just fine.