#taking the plunge for the planet

[montereybayaquarium]

🤿Happy National Scientific Dive Day! 🌊

As proud members of the American Academy of Underwater Sciences (AAUS), our incredible dive safety team has been at the forefront of advancing science-based solutions to protect our ocean ecosystems. From maintaining our exhibits to supporting groundbreaking field research, they’re shaping the future of scientific diving and marine conservation every day. 🌎💙

From maintaining our exhibits to supporting groundbreaking field research, they’re shaping the future of scientific diving and marine conservation every day. 🌎💙

[becoach-a]

thinking hard on both of the instances where we got "i love you" from beard.................he was the one who said it first,

[simonscumdump]

Simon finds out he has a breeding kink.

Now, the prospect of it was just a joke at the time, you and a few friends had been diving into the dirty topics of your relationships over a few drinks.

There’s no harm in a little gossip after all.

But when one of those friends piped up with the fact that their man had the biggest breeding kink on the planet…it had you thinking how Simon would react should you pull that card in bed…

Just a harmless little joke right?

Wrong.

This man utterly loves you, you are everything in his life and he worships the ground his pretty woman walks on.

Whilst he knows there are no actual risks of pregnancy simply due to you being on birth control…the moment the words “Let me make you a daddy.” Tumble out of your mouth so casually when you returned home…

Oh it had him seeing red.

This man would never purposefully hurt you, you both know it. But the possessive itch the mere thought of getting you pregnant properly gives him has him bending you over the arm of the sofa before he can even check your secure enough.

He wouldn’t even bother taking your clothes off, he’s too impatient…too greedy. Instead the bottom of your dress would be shoved up around your hips and your underwear shoved off to one side in a rushed movement.

Now. Simon knows how important prep is, he’s not exactly small and he doesn’t want to hurt you. But the sheer ferocity in the way he dropped down behind you and pressed his mouth to your cunt was borderline feral.

He can’t get words out, even if he’d normally be spewing out the most erotic filth…all you’ll be getting from him is these hungry sounding groans like he’s barely holding himself together.

And the moment he knows you’re prepped enough? He’s ruthless. Plunging in as deep as you’ll take him with an almost pathetically desperate moan leaving his lips.

But even when he came, when you took everything he could give…he still kept going, he’d be merciless, unforgiving. Aching to give you everything you could ever want from him.

“Gotta make sure it takes lovie. Gon’ keep fillin’ this pretty cunt up till we have a little one.”

Even if he knows it most likely won’t happen.

[gingerswagfreckles]

I think people need to understand that when someone says the situation in Israel/Palestine is complicated they are not necessarily saying that the discussion of who the oppressor vs oppressed is complicated. The Israeli government has been oppressing the Palestinians for a very long time, that is clear, and it is not complicated to understand that at least since the 80s they have had dramatically more financial and military power to keep control of the territory in the way they like.

However, it is reductive and dismissive to insist that there is no complexity in the potential ways to move forward to bring peace to the region. Despite what people on tumblr.edu like to believe, "Israel should never have been created" is not a practical solution to an incredibly heated geopolitical situation in the present day. Israel was created and it does exist. 10 million people live there. 74% of the population is native born and the country has existed for 75 years. Hand waving these fact away with the opinion that "they should move back to where they came from" may make you feel good about being a Radical Leftist, but it does not give anyone a road map for how exactly millions of people without dual citizenship are supposed to just up and evaporate. Nor does it acknowledge the reality that 21% of Israelis are Arabs, the very people you are claiming to want to give the land back to.

Insisting that there's nothing complicated about expecting an entire country's population to willingly dissappear with no consequences is not a productive way to think about this conflict. It ignores the many massive superpowers that have an interest in proping up different states in the region, the power dynamics involved in any land back movements, and the inevitably negative consequences of totally dissolving an established state without a plan. It is also completely and almost comically unrealistic, so much so that it makes it hard to believe that anyone who's opinion starts and ends with this idea really gives a shit about anyone who lives in the area as much as they care about their online leftist clout.

There's nothing complicated in understanding that the Israeli government is and has been maintaining an oppressive apartheid state for decades. It is, however, very complicated to come up with a realistic way to resolve some of the most intricately entangled land disputes on the planet without plunging the region into total chaos. Not everyone has to be deeply educated on every geopolitical situation, but it is very hard to take people seriously when they know nothing about the politics or history of a region and yet insist that there is nothing complicated about it at all.

There's a lot of people on this website who are getting dangerously smug about their own ignorance, and are starting to go down Qanon type anti-intellectual paths in the name of being sufficiently radical. Not knowing the details of a very convoluted land dispute isn't something to brag about online as you call for intentionally reductive solutions. You can support the Palestinian cause and be aware of the oppression they have faced while also holding off on calling people trying to do real analysis and de-escalation work bootlickers. We need to get control of the urge to fit every global issue into a simplistic YA novel narrative structure that appeals to Western revolutionary fantasies.

[wingedhallows]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐀' 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

-‘๑’- 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife!reader / 0.8k words -‘๑’- 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 smut - MDNI, fingering -‘๑’- 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 so here's the first treat of my special - these cowgirl!vi things come to me like lightening - I'd let vi finger me on horseback too, just so u know.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓-𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The sun beats down on the fields, thick and relentless, wrapping everything in a slow, sticky heat—like the apple pie cooling on the windowsill, sweet and steaming. You wipe your hands on your apron, brushing off the last of the flour, and push open the screen door with your hip. The kettle  ambles across the grass with no real destination, and Vi’s farmhands are still fussing over the fence down on the south end—the one the bull wrecked a few days back.

“Darlin’, c’mere.”

You lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, catching sight of Vi as she approaches on horseback. The mare’s hooves kick up little clouds of dust behind her, the sunlight haloing around her like something out of a painting. Your lips curl into a slow smile—warm, soft, sweet as molasses.

“I finished the pie, honey,” you say, slipping your fingers into hers as the horse comes to a stop in front of the porch. Vi gives your hand a squeeze, eyes glinting as she smirks down at you.

“That’s amazin’, sweetheart. Come on up.”

There’s no room for protest—Vi’s already tugging you up before you can object, steady and sure. You huff out a soft grunt as she helps haul you into the saddle, your dress gathering awkwardly beneath you as you settle in front of her, your back pressed to her chest.

You let out a light laugh, amused by her antics. “I gotta start supper, hun.”

But Vi only grins over your shoulder, all charm and no remorse. She never does apologize for the way she makes you smile.

“Supper can wait, sweet thing,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear, sending a little shiver down your spine. Then she gives the horse a soft nudge, and you both begin to move—slow and steady, the rhythm of the ride swaying you gently against her.

You don’t know where she’s taking you. But judging by the way her arms tighten around your waist and the not-so-innocent way she leans into you with every step, you’ve got a pretty good idea.

Slowly, her hand moves south - drawing soft circles over your belly through the dress. You tilt your head, intrigued and already expecting her touch. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you all day, darlin’.” She murmurs into your ear. Vi’s hand slowly slips under the fabric of your dress, her fingers slowly trail over the already wet patch in your underwear.

 Her administration elicits a breathy moan and your head lulls back against her shoulder as if she’s the only thing tethering  you to planet earth right now . “I know, sweet girl - just let me make you feel good.” She whispers ever so gently, pressing a wet hot kiss to the side of your throat.

Then, her finger slips past your panties and through the slick folds of your pussy. You arch your back barely, the sensation just feeling too good.

“Vi..” You moan softly, your fingers closing around her wrist with a breathy moan and vi swears she hasn’t seen anything more beautiful as you half lidded in her saddle and the evening sun catching on your cheekbone like art. 

“Shh, baby - let yourself feel it.” She whispers back, and doesn't wait another moment. She slips a finger inside your plush cunt, knuckledeep. Your breath hitches as the heat sparks to life low in your belly like rubber tightening.  “Vi, please.” You croak against her shoulder, voice breathy and desperate for anything she’ll give you.

Vi presses another kiss to your temple before she moves her finger, gently plunging it inside your spongy walls. “Fuck, sweetheart.” She mumbles against your temple before she adds another finger, picking up her pace, completely mesmerized with her darling wife worshipped and babbling in her saddle.

“Please..please..” You mumble, brain melting like ice in the sun, her fingers drive into your aching pussy without mercy, knowing exactly how to please her better half.

“I know, baby. ‘S too much? Lemme help ya’” She mouths another kiss to your jaw to feel your thundering pulse beneath her lips, she moves her thumb over your clit just to hear that blissed squeak she lives for. 

You’re panting by now, eyes halflidded and dress bunched to your thighs which leaves little to imagination. “I’m gonna - Vi, please.” You manage through moans and grunts as the horse keeps moving beneath you too, rocking you against her hand as if to mock you “C’mon, darlin’. Soil my saddle, will ya’?”

That does it.

Her hand clasps over your mouth as a high pitched moan wobbles from your lips, back arched and nails digging into her wrist.

 “That’s it - that’s ma’ girl.”

ೃ⁀➷ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (if you wish to be tagged in the smut-special series, pls comment below this post)

( @l0veylace ; @alex-thegiraffeboyy ; @mar1posita ; @foralltheprettygirls ; @hitmehardmommy ; @caitvisthird44 ; @thecreativeblueberry-blog )

[mapledkanata]

"The moons, Alpha Trion.. aren't they nice tonight?"

Zeta Prime wasn't always so distant from the others.

When the Primes were first forged by Primus, the others knew Zeta by his courage and eagerness to plunge into the unknown. Such fervent fearlessness lent to establishing the first city, home of the first Cybertronians— Iacon.

At the time, Cybertron was at its infancy, and there was still much the Primes didn't know of it, only that Primus was their creator and, in Unicron's defeat, his body became their home. Cybertron was rich with life and resources, and the Primes knew well that they would need to protect it and their people.

With the threatening loom of the Quintessons ever present, wanting to take Cybertron's world for themselves, the Primes continued to defend their home, but their strengths were becoming exhausted with continuous efforts.

Adventurous as he was, Zeta took to seeking answers and strength within the planet itself. He ventured deep into its mantle, where after much journey, he found himself upon Primus' spark.

When Zeta emerged, he was changed. Now bearing the Matrix and what power and wisdom drawn from it, in tandem with the strengths of the other Primes and their warriors, they thwarted Quintessons from their planet's orbit like a shockwave.

And, for a time, Cybertron was able to grow in relative peace.

But since bearing the Matrix, Zeta had slowly grown burdened. Once elated to be able to commune with their creator more directly, such an open doorway to Primus soon made him feel isolated and unable to fully connect with his companions and their people.

The other Primes watched as their beloved friend, once uninhibited and forthcoming, withdraw into himself. As they pass his chambers, they can hear him murmuring and mumbling, in conversation with someone they cannot hear. Regretfully, there are times where the Primes cannot distinguish between Primus' words and Zeta's whenever he speaks to them.

In present day, Zeta spends much time in his chambers. He looks outwards towards the night skies, a longing for adventure lying dormant in his chassis. Alpha Trion accompanies him often, their longtime companionship never lost on him despite the disconnect Zeta finds himself in.

".. They are, Zeta," Alpha Trion says gently, "they are very nice tonight."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Under the mistletoe at a Daily Planet party for Clark Kent. No lois lane slander plz, I love her!

A/n: I could never 😩. She was my favorite back in the animated series and I love her in the comics. Fuck anyone that writes negative shit about her and just bashes her character.

If you want a different clark please let me know 🙏.

It was the annual Christmas party at the Daily Planet and once again Clark found himself in the corner of the room with his gaze fixated on you. Your laugh ringing in his ears for something that Lois had said.

Lois the ever observant one turned to find Clark's gaze on you a smirk forming on her lips. Jumping, Clark quickly turned away finding the drink he was holding much more interesting.

"So Smallville when you gonna take the plunge and finally ask out our favorite photographer?"

"Lois!" Clark quickly adjusted the glasses on his face, his cheeks flushed a deep red. "I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered.

Rolling her eyes, Lois placed on hand on her hip as she pursed her lips. "I'm not blind Kent! I'm pretty sure everyone can see your feelings for them in space..."

"I don-."

An exasperated sigh escaped as she stepped behind the man giving him a hard shove. "God it's like pushing a brick house." She muttered. "They are under a Mistletoe..now that's your excuse now go!"

"You're very pushy!"

"I call it being innovated! Now go!"

Stumbling forward, Clark took a few steps then narrowed his eyes spotting another work step towards you. Making a B-line to you, Clark slipped in between you and his co-workers name he happened to forget.

"H-hey."

Beaming, you gave Clark a bright smile as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Hey Clark, you enjoying the party?"

"Y-ya I." Glancing up at the Mistletoe he then looked to you.

Lois's voice, her whisper somewhere in the office urging him to do something. "Kiss them." She hissed ignoring the looks she was getting.

Adjusting his tie, Clark cleared out his throat giving you a nervous grin. "So uh...I happened to notice we are standing under the Mistletoe and I...would you mind...I mean you don't have to but can I kiss you?"

Blinking, your gaze flicked up to the red and green plant that hung above you both. Gaze softening, you smiled then stood up standing on your toes as your breath fanned across his lips. "I'd like that Clark."

Returning your smile, Clark let his arm wrap around your hips drawing you in close. "Good." Bending down his lips grazed yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

Holding her head high, Lois crossed her arms over her chest. "I made that happen."

[buckyalpine]

Thinking about the cutest little beefy babie Bucky who just needs cuddles and kisses and to feel small. He’s spent so much of his life forced into the complete opposite, the large killing machine who was hosed down with ice cold water, fed through tubes, his mind wiped a thousand times over. He knows he wants to be babied but he has no idea how to put it into words and he’s too embarrassed to ever bring it up. That's all he wants. A safe space all just for him.

The mission takes forever, mental and physical exhausting competing against each other to wear the soldier down. He sits at the able after mustering a quick shower; your heart hurts seeing him look so defeated, not touching his food, too tried to even lift the spoon.

“Here, let me feed you” you smiled, taking his plate from him and feeding him little bites of pasta. You notice the way his eyes light up, sitting up a little straighter for you while you carefully make sure not to spill anything. Your thumb wipes away a tiny smidge of sauce from the corner of his mouth and Bucky feels warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Thank you” he whispered, cheeks tinted pink

“What else do you need, Bub?” You caress his scruffy cheek and you swear you hear him whimper. He's in a headspace he can't quite place his finger on, desperately craving more of your affection. He contemplates keeping his mouth shut and just going to his room, not wanting to push his luck but you touch him so softly and he needs it so badly.

“Cuddles please?” He manages, immediately nuzzling into your side.

"Of course" You take his hand and lead him to your room, leaving the lamp on so Bucky isn't plunged into total darkness. He shuffles at the edge of your bed while you pull back the sheets, tugging him to lay on top of you. He’s physically much larger than you but on the inside he’s so little. He curls him self up into a ball, loving the way you wrap him up, holding him close to your body. His head rests against your chest and for the first time ever, he falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat without a single nightmare plaguing him.

Bucky managed to keep it between to two of you, those puppy eyes always a sign that he needed his safe space. Around others he'd hold himself together, going through the motions and as soon as he sees you, he simply melts. He only lets his inhibitions' down when there is no on else around.

There are some days where he's so lost in himself, so tired, so drained, he struggles with the most basic tasks. Tears well in his eyes, his head hurting as he tries to comb through his hair, some how making it worse. You hear a sniffle as you pass by his room, gently knocking before entering and seeing his fallen face.

“Mama?” He doesn't always realize when he calls you that but he can't help it. You're the safest person on the planet for him, so soft and pretty and oh so loving.

“What it is, bear” you coo, taking his hand away from tugging with the brush, seeing his frustrations grow. He whimpered at the knot in his hair that hurts to detangle, looking at you with glassy eyes. You lead him to sit down at the edge of his bed while you work through his chestnut lock. He lets out a content sigh when he feels your gentle nimble fingers work through his hair without hurting him. You graze and massage his scalp as you detangle and your small ministrations make it hard for him to keep his eyes open.

“Sleepy” he mumbled, pushing his face into your tummy and hugging you close like his favorite stuffy. He lets out a precious yawn and pulls you to bed to cuddle.

“Go to sleep, bear" You whisper, kissing his forehead, rubbing his back in soothing circles. He nods against your skin before descending into soft snores.

Such a cute beefy baby.

[djarins-cyare]

Oh, Your Love Is Sunlight

Summary: Din takes you on a picnic date Rating: Teen Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader Word count: 2,106 Tags/warnings: Excessive fluff, feelings, food consumption (including meat and dairy; sorry to those who don’t partake, finding photos of vegan Star Wars food is hard!), fleeting thoughts about bunk-sharing, helmet removal, kissing, hand-holding, gift-giving Author’s note: Happy 1st Tumblr birthday, Moon Fairy Mina @evolnoomym! I made a moodboard for your first birthday party with the prompt “having a picnic date with Din”, and then I couldn’t stop myself from writing something to go with it. It ended up far fluffier than I usually aim for, though maybe I’ll write the smut that inevitably follows next year! Much love, darling 😘

Din instructs you to close your eyes until the loading ramp has fully descended, then guides you a few steps forward onto the sloped surface. The thrum of suspense rises in your gut like a hyperspace engine coming to life, only to be cut short when he has to dart back inside for forgotten supplies. With his grand reveal delayed, you’re left to interpret the world on which you’ve landed through your other senses.

You notice the air’s freshness first. After a whole week cooped up aboard the Crest, it hits your lungs like water on a parched throat, quenching your thirst for freedom. Warm sunlight caresses your skin while a soft breeze carries the heady perfume of grass and wildflowers. A low, static-like buzz mingles with a closer chorus of wildlife and birdsong, each sound weaving its own melody into the moment.

“Open your eyes,” Din commands at last, his smooth, modulated baritone adding a final note to this sensory symphony.

A gasp escapes your lips as you obey… the sight that unfolds is kriffing spectacular.

A verdant meadow stretches out before you, overlooking a sun-drenched valley beyond. The low background hum is the distant roar of waterfalls, where vast torrents of azure water plunge into a sparkling lake before winding through the valley to your right. Along the banks, large grazing creatures – shaaks, you think – lumber at their leisure. A tall, lush forest fringes the meadow to your left and behind the ship, its ancient canopy whispering secrets of a new world.

It’s breathtaking.

“Are we on Naboo?” Only that planet’s renowned vistas could rival this incredible display, but you can’t be there. It doesn’t match the heading you were on.

The Mandalorian shakes his helmet. “The biosphere is similar, but this world is in the Unknown Regions and, so far, it’s uninhabited. I discovered it by accident a couple years back. Once the Nav Guild drops a hyperspace marker out here, the New Republic will settle it fast, but it remains off the grid for now. What do you think?”

“It’s stunning, Din. Are we here for a bounty?” Your gaze drifts back to him – the only other thing in the galaxy that could rival the landscape’s splendour in your eyes. The sunlight glints in his armour as if he belongs among such beauty.

“No…” he replies, a trace of awkwardness in his tone as he gestures toward a basket by his side – the forgotten supplies. “I thought we could have… a picnic.” Before you can fully register your surprise, he adds in a soft, playful tone, “A… date?”

Astonishment renders you mute for several drawn-out moments, freezing you in rapturous inertia. Then, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, you finally reply, “I’d love that.”

After months of pining for him, you’re not about to look a gift traladon in the mouth.

He spreads out a couple of blankets on the grass and begins unpacking the basket. As you watch him lay out enticing treats, it becomes clear why he’d insisted on making every meal for you both since his supply run at the last outpost yesterday. He’d filled the cooling chamber with surprises for this ‘date’.

When he extracts a chilled bottle of blue milk, a nostalgic lump forms in your throat. “You remembered!” you exclaim softly.

“Of course,” he responds warmly. “I drank it as a kid, too. We both have good memories attached to it.”

Din puts together a carefully crafted three-course meal. Hunks of bucco bread slathered with soft moof milk cheese and topped with slices of red fruit make for a simple but tasty starter. Next, he serves up a mouthwatering main course: cold cuts of nerf steak paired with vibrant purple topato mash and buckwheat noodles. Just when you think you’ve reached your limit, he unveils a plate of Parnassos swirl cake – squares of sweet, buttery, purple-swirled indulgence.

You eat back-to-back in the seamless rhythm you’ve become used to – his helmet near at hand, of course. After months of gaining his trust, removing it to eat together was a welcome victory, and you don’t take it for granted. Instead, you savour the resonance of his unfiltered voice as you each describe your favourite things in the galaxy (besides this delicious food and epic view).

You can’t find the words to confess that he’s one of your favourite things.

After the meal, you lay back on the blanket, digesting both the sumptuous food and the surreal notion that this is a genuine date.

It’s been nearly a year since Din first took you aboard, and almost six months since Grogu left for his Jedi training. In the wake of their parting, you brought the grieving Mandalorian to your homeworld and looked after him while he brooded. With his ship destroyed, he seemed grateful to have a ‘home base’ of sorts when he started taking bounty missions to finance a replacement Razor Crest. There was never any doubt that you would fly away with him again once Peli found him a new ship.

You’ve always been close, but it’s never been anything more than mutual respect and a deep friendship – or so you believed. Perhaps you aren’t the only one who’s spent your nights wishing you could crawl into your shipmate’s bunk. The idea of two warm bodies pressed together softens the chill of deep space and makes the galaxy seem that little bit less lonely.

A rustling beside you interrupts your reverie. Curious, you prop yourself on your elbows to find Din unbuckling his belt and lifting off his bandolier, his cloak already a charcoal pool behind him. As he begins to unfasten his cuirass, you comment, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take your armour off outside the ship before.”

“Who’s gonna see?” he drawls, his tone laced with a secret smile. “Even the shaaks are too far away now to catch a glimpse.”

Despite his relaxed demeanour, you notice how he extracts his blaster from its holster, resting it within easy reach at the blanket’s edge. The beskar may come off, but the warrior remains.

Once he’s down to his flight suit, he rolls up the sleeves and unzips the front, revealing his dark undershirt. This is virtually naked for Din.

You offer an approving smile. “Way to relax, bounty hunter – I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Good,” he rasps, those two husky syllables igniting a surge of desire within you.

Then, once again, he catches you off guard. Reaching up, he does the unthinkable. He removes his helmet.

“Din!” you exclaim, clamping your eyes shut and laying back on the blanket to direct your now unseeing eyes at the sky instead of his uncovered face. You press a hand across them for good measure. “A little warning, maybe?”

“You already saw my face when Grogu left,” he reasons, though his words only deepen your confusion.

“Yeah, but then you put your helmet back on and haven’t taken it off since,” you counter. As you protest, you feel him lift your hand away from your eyes, but you keep them firmly closed. “What— why— your creed, Din!���

“It’s already broken; the transgression has been committed. I’ve just been… hiding behind my helmet ever since. But you’ve already seen me, and nothing will change if you see me again now.” Still holding the hand he just peeled off your face, his voice grows warm and resolute as he implores, “Look at me, cyar’ika. Please.”

It feels surreal – perhaps you’re dreaming or teetering on the edge of sanity – but you can’t deny him what he so earnestly requests.

Slowly, you relax your eyelids and blink them open, expecting to see your stoic Mandalorian. Instead, you encounter a nervous, messy-haired, forty-something knockout, propped up on his elbow and hovering over you. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember, except his eyes are no longer shadowed by sadness; now, they sparkle with an unspoken promise.

For several long, heavenly moments, you simply gaze at one another, absorbing this rare, unrestricted view – the second mind-blowing sight of the day. The fluffy clouds drift onwards overhead, the waterfalls cascade endlessly into the churning lake, and the blazing sun edges ever closer to the horizon. This beautiful world spins on, yet you see only each other.

Before long, you notice Din’s focus keeps drifting lower, and when you wet your lips, he audibly inhales. You watch him wet his own in kind before his eyes dart back to yours beneath a questioning eyebrow.

A soft smile, an encouraging nod – that’s all it takes. And suddenly, he’s kissing you. It’s tentative and shy – he moves with a gentle hesitance that makes you reach up and cup his cheek, urging him to let go. He breaks off to draw a steadying breath… once, twice. Then his lips return to yours with greater passion – eagerness filling in for his obvious inexperience.

You soon find a reciprocal rhythm, slowly deepening the kiss until every touch of his tongue against yours sends sparks crackling through your body. With low hums, you encourage what you like, and his impressive ability to observe and learn soon elevates him to the best kisser you’ve ever known.

When he finally pulls away, he remains close, hovering above you with kiss-swollen lips. “So, how am I doing?” he asks.

“How are you doing?” you echo, unsure what he means.

“The date,” he clarifies softly. “Mandalorian dating mostly involves sparring; this kind of thing is… new to me. Is it what you hoped for?”

Flustered by his assumption that you’d hoped for any kind of date, you stammer, “Y-yeah… it’s wonderful. You’re doing… kriffing amazing.”

Relief washes over his features, and you marvel at seeing it on his face as well as in his body language.

“Cara suggested the picnic, but I planned the details myself,” he confesses, explaining how he knew you wanted this.

Nevarro’s marshal has been your confidante for months, though she swore she’d never tell Din of your feelings for him, conceding it could only complicate your friendship.

“So… she told you? About… me liking you… like this?” you ask, put out by her broken promise.

He smiles at your euphemism. “Only after I told her that I like you… like this. Then she threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t act on it.”

You snicker as you realise you’ve both been as foolish as one another, instantly forgiving Cara’s breach of trust in pursuit of your happiness.

Looking into his sparkling brown eyes, you shake your head and whisper, “This is crazy. I never imagined you’d feel the same way – that what I’ve been feeling all this time could ever be mutual.”

Din closes the distance once more, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring, “Oh, ner mesh’la dinii, it’s mutual, trust me.” You pull him back in for a deeper kiss, slowly and blissfully making out as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

When it’s time to leave, Din carries his armour back to the Crest while you pack away the picnic things. You watch your gorgeous, messy-haired man return to your picnic spot against a blazing sky, the lake beneath reflecting amber flames.

As you take a final, lingering look at the vista below, he steps up behind you, pressing in close. His arms encircle you, drawing you back against his unarmoured chest, and he whispers, “I have something for you.”

Before you can speak, he raises his hand and uncurls his fingers. And there, nestled in his palm, a silver mudhorn pendant sparkles in the vestiges of sunlight. Your breath catches as you recognise his clan symbol – a silent declaration that you are his family.

Swallowing tears that dare to betray your emotion, you can offer only a breathy whisper in response. “Stars, it’s… I— thank you so much.”

You long to voice the thousand other words that churn within – that you consider him family too, that you’re in love with him, that you’d happily spend the rest of your life with him. Yet you hold them all back. Words have never been your way, nor Din’s.

Gestures are your language.

Once he’s lowered the mudhorn around your neck, you turn to face him, drawing him close and resting your foreheads together in a wordless Mandalorian kiss.

When you part, your hands entwine as you saunter back to the ship, savouring the setting sun’s enduring glow. You came here as friends, but you leave as something more. And with this planet’s sun-drenched beauty etched in your memories, even the darkest corners of the galaxy don’t seem so lonely anymore.

Translations:

cyar’ika [SHAH-ree-kah] – sweetheart/darling

ner mesh’la dinii [ner MESH-lah DEE-nee] – my beautiful lunatic

Just a few notes in case anyone’s interested:

Yeah, the title is a Hozier lyric. Unoriginal, I know, but I couldn’t come up with anything decent!

The first photo in the moodboard is actually Naboo; it’s from Episode II: Attack of the Clones when Anakin and Padme have their picnic up in the Lake Country (I just cropped them out), so technically, it’s Lake Como in Italy.

Definitions: Shaaks are grazing animals, mostly raised as livestock because of their massive bodies, and are the SWU’s equivalent of sheep. The Unknown Regions is an area of the galaxy that isn’t mapped. The Nav Guild is responsible for mapping the galaxy. Hyperspace markers (also called navigation buoys) mark coordinates to keep ships on course, and all planets and astronomical objects have one. A traladon is a Corellian animal, but they use “gift traladon” across the galaxy in the same expression we use on Earth (“don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”), meaning one shouldn’t question a gift. A cooling chamber is a refrigerator. Blue milk is the SWU’s ubiquitous version of cow’s milk and comes from banthas. Bucco bread is a type of golden loaf made from grain farmed on planets in the Outer Rim. Soft moof milk cheese is the equivalent of ricotta cheese and comes from the milk of moofs (SWU goats). Red Fruit is the in-universe name for tomatoes. Nerfs are another type of cattle, rather like buffalo. Topato is the Star Wars word for potato, and though they’re usually green, we have purple potatoes on Earth, so I figured they’d have purple topatoes in the SWU. Buckwheat noodles are usually from Corellia, but I assume they can be made anywhere. Parnassos swirl cake looks and sounds fucking delicious.

Screw canon and that stupid midlife-crisis N1 starfighter – I prefer to imagine that Peli got Din a new Razor Crest like he asked for.

A note on the images in the moodboard: I want to reassure everyone that I don’t use AI when creating images for my fics; I use an ancient and outdated program called Adobe Photoshop CS4, which was released 17 years ago (well before AI even existed). I do my best to manually extract, layer and blend elements from different images, then tweak them until I’ve created the image I want. It takes forever, but my blood, sweat and tears go into the process, and I take pride in doing it myself. Once I have the images, I use Canva for moodboard layouts.

➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

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[superhoeva]

learning a pas de deux–a ballet duet–with your dance partner, kyle garrick... who you can't look at without getting butterflies. yes, because he's gorgeous and has a mixture of technique and musicality that would make angels weep. because he's a sweet man with a sweeter smile, and carries your bag for you after rehearsals...

but also because he fucks you like he dances; with long, purposeful strokes and a stamina that carries you across the entire solar system. he stretches your legs in positions that remind you of your routine, plunging into your messy hole with gliding hips. rolling your clit between two fingers with twinkling eyes. delighted.

"look so pretty when you're creamin' all over me, luvie. feels good, huh? lettin' me reach inside you like this. 'f people saw us now, you think they believe we used to hate each other?"

you shake your head at his question with wet eyelashes, and gaz shushes you with soft coos and a mouth full of tongue. you grip him at the ass and lock your leg, pushing him all the way inside you. a small gush sounds just under kyle's groan.

"fuck, yeah. keep me 'n there, gorgeous. take whatever you want."

the final performance ends up being just as remarkable as the orgasms he plucks from you post-rehearsals. divine and magnificent, the two of you moving as if you're one... breathing so close by the end of it that every one watching feel as if they're intruding on a moment–a bond–with more intensity than two colliding planets.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[thbbie]

༄ suguru x f!reader

suguru has his fingers and your fingers in your cunt.

teaching you how to touch yourself he said,

to please yourself.

he's sitting at the edge of the bed with you spread in his lap, your back to his thick, robed chest.

"ah ah, need you to keep your legs spread for me baby, need to see my girl"

"need help suguru- t's not enough"

two of your fingers are buried to the knuckle in your warm cunt, plunging in and out with fervour and yet, it's not enough. your dripping, aching �� right on the edge of your high — so so close to what you want most but still it is out of your little fingers reach.

suguru sits behind you, big warm hands stroking the inner skin of your soft spread the thighs; his expression focused as he watched the way your movements turn sloppy, the burning ache in your wrist slowing you down; watching the way your face twists in pleasure and frustration; your little annoying whines and moans — like he's committing it all to his memory. like he's studying you, learning everything he can about you when at you're most vulnerable.

"pl-please, need your help — i can't. i can't"

his hand strikes one of your thighs, making you yelp, "you can do anything you put your mind to love." suguru takes your wrist in his hand, holding it in his thumb, pausing the movement of your fingers and gliding them out of your sopping cunt gently. "now, pay attention."

he aligns his index and middle fingers either yours and slips all four along your messy needy folds before sliding them in slow.

the stretch of his fingers in you feels incredible, so thick. so warm. your body relaxes against his, your eyes shutting as you nuzzle into his chest, relishing in the feeling of him until another light slap come down on your thighs.

"focus baby you'll miss your lesson."

he positions your other hand to your puffy clit, his finger pressing yours into it hard, "you can't ignore this sweet little clit of yours. if you touch it juustt like this..." guiding the tight circles you both trace on the little sensitive nub that have you arching in his hold, your breathe going uneven at the stimulation turn into a slew of saccharine moans when his (and your) still fingers begin thrusting into you.

fast and hard.

you doubt you'd be able to answer if he asked what your name was right now; the pleasure makes your head cloudy and your vision blur.

fuck. you needed this

you cum fast. creamy release gushing out onto your interlaced hands and you hear suguru curse. his breath hot in you neck — panting desperately at the sight. you're just so beautiful. soft blissful and pliant in his lap.

you've been rendered such a mess; because of him.

"that's it baby. doing so well for me, listening to me so good." fucking your fingers in and out of you through your orgasm, slower now; like he's trying to coax every last drop of that precious essence of yours out into his palm.

"were you paying attention baby?" sultry and low, almost mischievous. scheming

you're on another planet, but somehow you manage to reply in a simple, "uhuh"

"yea? good then." big warm hands soothingly drag along the skin, the cool metal of the band on his finger making you twitch, "show me what you've learnt today baby."

hashtag romance

[kissandtellus]

Clinical Cycle

Synopsis: Zayne is a medical professional with knowledge of every illness you could think of. But when it comes to your cycle, he has a different treatment plan.

Warnings: Menstrual talk, smut, use of medical gloves, brief mention of br33ding, comfort.

Zayne is nothing but a medical professional. Hell, he probably knows your body better than anyone on this entire planet. But there is one beast he struggles a bit to conquer once a month.

Your period.

And it isn’t because he isn’t a deligent partner.

Oh no.

He breaks his own rules and provides you with every sweet and carnal food desire you could dream of. He brings you breakfast in bed and heat pads warmed to the perfect temperature.

Oh yes, the beast isn’t the cycle itself.

It’s how he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you during it.

“Zayne…!”

“Easy petal, you are doing so well. I am almost finished. Deep breaths.” It shouldn’t make him so feral, the way his white medical gloves are stained red from his invasive fingers. The way he has you on your back, swirling a thumb around your engorged clit is something that should be straight out of a adult video.

But god does this help your cramps. But it never seems to get less embarrassing for you. Zayne chuckles at your embarrassment, wiping his gloved fingers clean on the towel below you that he laid out in the beginning.

“I have had my hand in your chest cavity more times than you can count. Yet you seem perturbed by your natural body functions.” He states with that gorgeous smile. You let out a groan that’s a mix between embarrassment and bliss. Fighting the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“It’s messy, Zayne.” You try to reason with him. But that doesn’t stop him from pushing your knees next to your ears. Or the way he wraps a bloody glove around his length to push his aching cock up between your red stained lower lips.

“If you truly think blood throws me off, then you must not know as much about me as you think.” Zayne is very precise in his treatments. So precise that his cock is drilling into your gummy walls with scary accuracy. You are clinging to him despite being folded in half. The sticky feeling of his balls connecting to your soaked pussy should be engraved in your mind forever.

“I just want to help you, sweet girl-ngh~!” He winces in overwhelming pleasure as you tighten around his cock. “It’s in my nature as your physician.”

Your cervix seems even lower at this time of the month. You tear up taking his whole length, feeling like you are full to burst with bloating and his cock bullying into you. But when his latex thumb flicks against your throbbing pearl you become religious for a split second.

Zayne works you through the orgasm, his free hand cupping the back of your neck to get you to lock eyes with him.

Zayne always talks you through it.

“Milking me for every drop? Despite the possibility of you getting pregnant decreasing ten-fold during your cycle? You are so greedy.” When the last word leaves him, he thrusts inside your aching walls and holds himself right against your cervix.

The aftermath of the coupling is always much messier. He cleans you with the upmost care. You wear the familiar sound of the tampon wrapper being torn and you cover your face.

“I can put it in myself!” Zayne ignores your pouting, slipping the plastic applicator between your lips and carefully plunging the cotton inside.

“Do you not trust your doctor?”

You grumble.

Imagine both of your surprise when the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter turns pink with two lines mere weeks later.

[pneumaticshift]

i have been plagued by thoughts of star sapphire hal and by god it kills me and would absolutely kill bruce to see him in the outfit carol wears in most runs she's in

Ooooh, this is a fun request. Thank you for the wonderful mental image.

———

For a very long moment, Bruce just stared. 

There were a great many things he had prepared himself to encounter tonight. A high-speed chase across Gothams rooftops. Explosions in the streets he’d somehow end up getting blamed for. A concussion he’d insist wasn’t a concussion while Alfred stared at him like he was the biggest disappointment to ever wear body armor. All scenarios that were perfectly reasonable for a man like him to expect. 

This, however, was new. 

Bruce prided himself on his ability to remain unshaken in the face of the bizarre. He had shared into the abyss, stood beside gods and monsters alike, and had endured all the spectacular shit the universe had thrown at him. He’d even suffered through Green Arrow’s attempts at philosophy while stranded on a mission together, and that alone had to count for something.

Now he was standing in the Watchtower, taking in the full reality of what was standing before him, and he knew with absolute certainty that his life had gone completely and irrevocably off the rails. Really, he should have seen it coming the moment he decided to devote his nights to dressing as a bat.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed that Hal Jordan was attractive. He was one of the most infuriating men Bruce had ever worked with, but he was also objectively good-looking. When a man flounced around in a skintight suit with an ass like that, even Bruce was bound to notice. It was a completely manageable distraction in his day-to-day experiences with the League. One of those minor observations you’d acknowledge, catalogue and then brush aside. The sky was blue, grass was green, Hal had a great ass. 

But now he was making a very solid effort at testing the limits of Bruce’s restraint, and it had everything to do with how Hal was currently standing there in a Star Sapphire uniform.

Or, to be specific, a Green Lantern construct of the uniform. And, because apparently this was a test from the Gods to specifically screw Bruce over, the ring had chosen accuracy over modesty.

Bruce knew this because the boots were there. Knee-high, heeled, and glossy in that very specific way that suggested Hal’s ring had spent far too much time on the details. 

The rest of the outfit clung to him indecently. Obscenely. The intricate filigree was vacuum-packed to his tanned skin, high-cut at the hips, plunging at the chest, with goddamn gloves that went up and past his elbows. It should have been impossible for anything to be both skintight and flowing, but the ring sure did make a good go of it.

The tiara really brought the whole thing together nicely. Or insanely. Bruce hadn’t decided yet. 

For the longest moment, Hal didn’t even notice Bruce was there. 

He was too busy flailing his hand around to notice. The ring was glowing in fits and starts as he tried, and ultimately failed, to dismiss the uniform. The man was practically bordering on desperate as his own willpower betrayed him. 

Bruce, for his part, wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He could enjoy the show, he supposed. Hal was stumbling gracefully in those ridiculous heels, cursing under his breath and trying to lock his knees in place for balance. He had been to alien planets, fought cosmic horrors, survived all the shit of the universe, but apparently walking in heels was where he met his match. 

Alternatively, Bruce could walk away and pretend he wasn’t going to think about the image for a very long time. Because unfortunately, he was.

He had appreciated Hal’s ass in the usual Lantern uniform many times before. (After all, he wasn’t blind.) But the Star Sapphire costume didn’t just highlight his assets, it was parading them. Utterly salacious, utterly unfair. Definitely a matter that warranted further rumination later.

Unfortunately, Bruce didn’t have time to decide which course of action to take, because right as he was mentally filing away this entire moment for later analysis, Hal’s entire scantily clad body froze.

Bruce saw the exact moment his instincts kicked in. His back snapped ramrod straight. The energy of his flailing vanished, replaced by something almost eerily still, and slowly, so painfully slowly, he turned his head.

He looked confused at first, like some part of him knew something was wrong but hadn't fully processed what yet. His brow furrowed, his mouth parted slightly, and for a brief, glorious second, Bruce could see the gears in his head struggling to turn. Then his gaze met Bruce’s. And his brain caught up.

Bruce had never seen a man visibly lose the will to live so fast.

Hal’s face went through three separate stages of emotional devastation. Shock, realisation, and existential despair. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched. His entire body seemed to shrink into itself like he was experiencing ego death in real time.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he spluttered.

Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly, letting the silence stretch. He could see Hal floundering, the sheer panic in his eyes as his mouth opened and closed, his brain scrambling for some kind of explanation that didn’t immediately collapse under scrutiny.

“Oh?” Bruce finally said. Partly to be a dick. Partly because he was truly at a loss for words. 

Hal’s hands flew up in immediate defense, then just as quickly shot back down when he remembered he was barely wearing anything. “No—shut up!” he snapped. “I swear to God, this is not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re wearing the Star Sapphire uniform.”

Interestingly, Hal made a noise that could’ve been a whine if it wasn’t also fifty percent death rattle. “I— No, wait—” He looked down at himself and cringed. “I can explain!”

“I’d love to hear it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d love to laugh at me. There’s a difference.”

Bruce couldn’t deny it. He’d also love to do a few more things too, but that probably wasn’t entirely helpful. He let his gaze drag deliberately from the top of Hal’s ridiculous head down to the heeled boots and back up again. He tilted his head, taking in the very specific details of the construct. It really was a very well made piece. 

“God, you’re an absolute—” Hal cut himself off to drag a hand over his face. “God. Okay. Look.”

“I’m looking.”

“Not like that, you asshole. I got hit with some weird energy surge and it scrambled my ring's templates. I was thinking ‘armor’, this is what came out!" Hal gestured to himself in exasperation, the movement making the construct shimmer. Good Lord. There was a sheen. "I am working on fixing it!"

Bruce hummed again, completely unhelpful, entirely entertained.

“It’s not like I chose this, alright? This is just some kind of ring feedback. It’s not, like—"

“Subconscious?" Bruce supplied.

Hal scowled at him “No.”

“So your ring just happened to manifest this design, with those proportions, entirely by chance?”

“Yes,” Hal hissed. “Obviously.”

He crossed his arms, which did nothing to make the situation better for him. Or Bruce. It called attention to the way the construct moved with him, emphasising every flex and shift of his muscles. At this point, Bruce was fighting the deeply unprofessional urge to drag him closer and haul him over his shoulder like a caveman

He didn’t. Because he was a professional.

But goddamn.

Hal shifted. The boots squeaked when he did. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“I don’t know. I think it has potential.”

“I’m gonna fix this, you’re going to be very discreet about what you definitely didn’t see here today, and we’re both going to just go ahead and pretend this never happened. Got it?”

“Hm. Shame.”

“Don’t test me, Spooky, I am so close to committing a crime.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “In that outfit?”

Hal lunged for the throat.

Unfortunately for him, the boots were still heels and Hal was still incapable of walking on them. The moment he put too much weight forward, his ankles twisted, his balance wobbled, and for one wonderful Bruce watched him go down. 

He really didn’t have any intentions of catching him because he always took great pleasure in the Green Lantern eating shit, but that outfit must have triggered some kind of neolithic instinct in him, because before he could think better of it, Bruce’s hands shot out and caught him by the waist.

Hal crashed into him gracelessly, all flailing limbs and deep personal shame. He scrambled for purchase and ended up gripping the font of Bruce’s suit, and for a second, Bruce was treated to the utterly incredible experience of Hal Jordan, fully wrapped up in his own humiliation, realising that he was now draped across Batman. 

It was beautiful. 

Bruce could feel the exact moment Hal’s soul left his body. His entire frame went rigid, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a dying wheeze, and his hands twitched against Bruce’s chest like he wanted to push himself away but had lost all motor function. Bruce, meanwhile, was noting things.

Specific things. Like how Hal’s waist was bare thanks to the cut-outs, and how it fit suspiciously well in his grip. Or how his bare thighs, lovely, tanned and toned, had pretty much tangled themselves up in Bruce’s cape. Or the way Hal’s entire expression had gone somewhere beyond horror, like he was experiencing a deeply spiritual crisis.

Hal froze.

Bruce froze. 

The tiara glinted in the light.

Bruce wasn’t sure if it was because Hal had ascended to a higher plane of mortification or because his own brain had completely short-circuited, but neither of them moved. He could feel the tension locked up in his muscle, could see the deer-in-the headlights look Hal had, and, worst of all, could feel some primitive part of his own brain straight up celebrating these turn of events. 

The part of his brain that still thought in terms like mine.

The part of his brain that had already acknowledged Hal’s body against his.

The part that was now, alarmingly, imagining many, many, many things.

Bruce forcibly shut that particularly thought process down.

But then Hal exhaled. Not just any exhale. A shaky, uncertain, what-have-I-done-to-deserve-this kind of exhale. The kind accompanied by one of those thousand-yard stare typically reserved for people who had just walked in on their own funerals.

There was barely time to dissect that before Hal was speaking.

“... So, uh. You come here often?”

Bruce decided to drop him.

[chimcess]

Pitch Black || jjk (Prologue)

⮞ Chapter 0: Prologue Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon, Captain!Taehyung, Doctor!Jimin, Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 400+ Summary: Stranded on a barren planet lit by three suns, a group of survivors struggle to survive after their transporter crash-lands. Their situation grows dire when pilot Y/N discovers that every 22 years, an eclipse plunges the planet into darkness, unleashing swarms of flesh-eating creatures. Facing both external threats and internal tensions, the group forms a fragile alliance. As mistrust and secrets surface, Y/N's complicated dynamic with convict and murderer Jungkook intensifies, making the fight for survival against the darkness and the creatures even more perilous. A/N: When I decided to rewatch the Riddick movies and reread the comics, I never thought I'd get so inspired to write a fanfiction based off of a "what-if" scenario, but here we are. So, this story follows the main storyline in Pitch Black (I think that's pretty obvious by the title) with a pretty large twist that leads into the rest of the story that's to come. Like everything I write (I'm so sorry), this will be a massive series that's pulling from a few of my new obsessions as well as my own creative thoughts and feelings. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you guys will follow along.

In the cold stillness of his cryosleep chamber, Jungkook's thoughts flickered like static on a faulty transmission, defying the stasis meant to consume him. They said cryosleep shut down most of the brain—all but the primitive side, the animal instincts that lurked beneath reason. Maybe that explained why he was still awake when no one else was. He didn’t question it much anymore. It just was.

Transporting him with civilians had been a bold choice, one he suspected someone would regret soon enough. The faint echoes of the world beyond his chamber filtered through his sharpened senses—a faint murmuring with an Saramic lilt, chanting low and steady. Likely a holy man, heading for New Mecca. But what route would they take to get there? He played out the possibilities in his mind, trying to map the path based on the faint hum of the engines and the sense of distance stretching endlessly ahead.

Then there was the scent. Subtle, but there: sweat mixed with leather, the metallic tang of tools, and the earthy grit of worn boots. A woman, no doubt—a prospector, maybe one of those free settlers who carved out a living on the fringes of colonized space. He imagined her kind: practical, determined, stubborn as hell. And he knew one thing for certain. They never traveled the main roads.

That brought his focus back to the real problem: Taemin Lee. The so-called lawman. A brown-eyed devil with a mercenary streak and a personal agenda. Jungkook knew exactly what Lee planned to do—drag him back to slam, back to a cage. But Lee had made a critical mistake this time. He’d picked the wrong route. The long route. The ghost lane.

A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong.

And as if summoned by that thought, something did feel wrong. Subtly at first, but unmistakable. The hum of the engines wasn’t right—too uneven, like a heartbeat skipping in the dark. The muffled sounds of the ship’s systems filtered through the walls of his chamber, distorted but insistent. Alerts, maybe. Warnings. He couldn’t make out the specifics, but the tone was unmistakable: something was off.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his senses sharpening as his body fought against the enforced stillness of cryosleep. The faint shiver of vibration in the chamber walls had changed, the ship itself broadcasting unease. It was subtle, but he felt it—like prey sensing a predator in the shadows.

A long time between stops, indeed.

© chimcess, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[saturnianoracle]

I AM SO SICK OF POP CULTURE BS MODERN ASTROLOGY , LORD FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF HAVING TO READ THESE SELF ASSURED MODERN TAKES.

If I have to see one more comment or post relying on the ABC house system or modern rulerships I'm gonna crash out fr. What a tragically bastardised ancient art astrology has become.

If you really want to understand and appreciate astrology, you must understand it's context and the richer symbolic meanings behind its foundations (e.g. thema mundi, trad rulership and by extension reevaluating your understanding of the planets and signs, dignities, whole signs, Egyptian terms, chaldean decans, lots etc). This is especially vital for predictive work e.g electional and horary astrology.

Not everything modern is bad, i use many modern things myself. But better discernment is needed in order to separate misinformation and deep misunderstanding from something that is genuinely pertinent, and learning traditional (e.g. hellenistic astrology) can help with this. You have to let go of overly subjective interpretations from 'working backwards on a chart analysis and seeking confirmation bias , and you have to let go of default modern premises which you probably never questioned. Trust me, I learnt the hard way. There are a few things which I didn't agree with in hellenistic astro when I first started just because I couldn't relate it to myself or others...rookie error fr💀🤡🤡

Nothing is more freeing than taking the long and initially confusing plunge into the "scary complex" og astrology that is traditional astrology. Especially when you're trying to unlearn so much bs which you dont even think is bs at first. But it is so worth it. Once you properly understand the foundations of it , it becomes so much clearer to see the implications of these nonsense modern takes.

I've been super busy lately and suffering from my lack of executive function so I haven't written as many posts as I'd have liked to yet. But more will come eventually🤞. In the meantime, some extremely helpful resources to get started:

- Chris Brennan / The Astrology Podcast (his books are also good apparently)

- On The Heavenly Spheres: A Treaty on Traditional Astrology by Helena Avelar & Luis Ribeiro (pdf of this is easy to find online. Very solid primer into trad astro)

- Astrology and the Authentic Self , and Ancient Astrology in Theory and Practice , both by Demetra George

- Sevenstarsastrology.com - an absolutely fantastic blog writer who deep dives into plenty of traditional topics. E.g. 12th parts , antiscia , arabic lots, and some more basic things too. Long articles/lessons but extremely extremely informative. Genuine goldmine.

- Patrick Watson, he alao writes some brilliant articles too. His article on the ABC house system was especially useful in getting me out those trenches.

- @/illuminiah , @/0degreestaurus, @/ellieremotigue, @/saturnandhoney, @/ilanastrology, @/bloodyjupiter_ are all just a few tiktok accounts off the top of my head which have been very helpful in helping me unlearn modern shit.

- www.skyscript.co.uk

- Nightlightastrology on Youtube / Adam Elenbaas

- Lee Lehman is especially good for horary and electional according to my horary-specialised friends

- Robert Hand

- u_StellaGraphia on reddit posts some amazing explanations (in comment sections usually) , really helpful stuff

- my other posts so far

- stop reading costar, cafe astrology, astroseek, etc interpretations :)

[repairheartzz]

what if there was a mark x reader….. with the love loyalty and in-syncness of the wonder Greek mythological couple Odysseus and Penelope? Mark’s out saving the world—hell, the galaxy at times, and we’re always waiting patiently for him, just as he always is thinking of us as he’s away.

awhh I love thinking about this dynamic with mark it’s so in character!!

•AH YES 🙂‍↕️

•This is so creative !!!!!!! I love Odysseus and Penelope dynamic, so like I reimagined that with Mark Grayson (Invincible) and a female reader in a modern/sci-fi twist. This will lean into emotion, loyalty, longing, and reunion — much like Odysseus and Penelope, but in the Invincible universe 💋.

•this has 4 chapters and it's a bit short tehhe 🫠

---

Title: "Across the Stars, I Waited for You"

Setting: Years after the Viltrumite War. You and Mark had been together before he left for a distant galaxy with Allen. You stayed on Earth—waiting, defending, surviving. Everyone told you to move on. You never did.(I made that shit up)

---

Part I: The Departure

Mark had kissed you one last time on the rooftop, your fingers tangled in the fabric of his suit, knuckles white. His forehead had pressed to yours.

"I’ll come back," he promised, his voice raw with emotion. "No matter how far I go. No matter how long it takes."

You smiled through tears. "And I’ll be here when you do."

Then he was gone—vanishing into the sky like a comet. Just like that, you were alone.

---

Part II: The Waiting

The days bled into weeks. The weeks into years. News from the Coalition was scattered, fragmented. Messages from Mark came less and less frequently as he plunged deeper into the war effort across galaxies.

People moved on. Eve rebuilt. Debbie tried to be strong. Nolan sent word from time to time. But you?

You stayed.

Your apartment became a quiet vigil. You never dated. Not once. Suitors came—some were charming, some were kind, some were persistent—but your heart had already been claimed by a boy who flew into the stars.

You kept your mind busy. Studying alien tech, working with Cecil, training. But every night before bed, you sat on the rooftop where you last saw him, scanning the sky for a blur of gold and blue.

People whispered. Said you were foolish. Said he was dead.

You never believed them.

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Part III: The Return

It was nearly midnight when the sky split open.

You were sipping coffee on the rooftop when you saw the flash—a blue streak, like a meteor breaking the atmosphere.

You stood slowly, heart pounding.

No. It couldn’t be.

But then you heard it—that sound—a sonic boom, followed by the flutter of a cape. And when you turned, he was there.

Mark.

Older. Tired. Scarred. But his eyes—those soft brown eyes—were exactly the same.

Your mug slipped from your hand and shattered on the rooftop.

You didn’t speak.

He crossed the space between you slowly, cautiously, almost reverently.

"You waited for me," he whispered, voice cracking.

"You said you’d come back," you answered, tears falling freely now. "I trusted you."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, resting his forehead against your belly like a prayer. You tangled your fingers in his hair, trembling.

"I thought of you every second," he murmured. "You were the only thing that kept me going."

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Part IV: The Reunion

That night, you didn’t sleep.

You lay together in bed, limbs tangled, breath mingling.

Mark traced the curve of your face like he was memorizing it. You held him like you were trying to remind him he was home.

He told you stories—of planets he liberated, horrors he witnessed, the friends he lost. You told him about Earth—how it changed, how you changed.

But through it all, the golden thread remained: you waited. He returned.

When he kissed you again, it wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow, sacred, as if time had stopped just to give you this moment.

"I love you," he said into your skin. "I never stopped."

"You never had to say it," you replied. "I always knew."

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Final Line: And somewhere in the distance, beneath the bruised-purple sky, the stars blinked softly—witnesses to a promise kept.

Fin

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Author's notes: how'd you like it 🧚🏻‍♀️ I did my best, I was in a hurry writing this hope it sounds like what you imagined.