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oookay68 · 10 months ago

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An Unexpected Plus One

Luke Castellan x gn!reader

Word Count: 1186

Summary: Luke sneaks into your bed after a particularly bad nightmare only to find something unexpected

Warnings: none

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A hot night in August followed an even hotter day. As Apollo’s golden chariot descended, Artemis’ silver took its place and with it, the stars. The once loud and busy camp is now deserted, traces of the day’s activities evident on the ground. Disturbed grass, arrows strewn messily by the targets, unorganized climbing equipment by the lava wall. In the dead of night, Camp Half-Blood was silent.

Save for the cicadas buzzing throughout the night. The mixture of the familiar bugs and the humid air brought a smell of warmth and comfort to one Luke Castellan. He quietly crept out of Cabin Eleven, cautiously avoiding puddles of mud and cringing every time his shoe squelched in the wet grass.

It was common for him to sneak out of the cabin in the black night. Nightmares plagued every demigod and every one dealt with them in different ways. Luke’s favorite way was to crawl into your bed and seek the comfort of your arms and smell. It was a ritual that you both did. Falling asleep with each others’ warmth was the only way you guys could rest after whatever demigod dreams you had.

Luke thought about his dream on the way to your cabin. A disembodied voice whispering in his ear to steal. The object itself was unclear. But it wasn't like stealing was a foreign concept to Luke or that he felt it was a moral wrong. He was the son of Hermes, he and his siblings had a knack for thievery and were kleptomaniacs to varying extents.

He ducked behind the front porch of your cabin when one of the lights turned on. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for a harpy to come out and bust him for breaking curfew. When nothing came he continued on, muttering something about a stupid motion light.

Luke pressed his face to your window. It was one he could find in his sleep, in fact, you once woke up to him repeatedly sleepwalking into your window. It was a memory that you would never let him forget no matter how hard he tried, a swim in the River Lethe wouldn’t be enough to erase that from your mind. He peeked through the window and smiled when he saw your face, peacefully asleep facing him.

Quietly sliding the window open, Luke stepped in and slipped off his shoes, knowing how much you hate dirty sheets. Your small bed faced the wall so he had to awkwardly throw his sneakers onto the wooden floor before he gently stepped onto your bed. You turned onto your back and mumbled something in your sleep that sounded a little bit like a cat’s meow.

Luke stroked your hair softly and pressed a warm kiss on your forehead before crawling underneath the covers with you. When he laid down he was met with strong resistance. Sleep deprived and uncaring, he persevered and wrapped his arm around your frame. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off before being rudely jolted awake with a kick to his side.

He bit back a groan of pain before shoving your light limbs over onto your side and snuggling into your neck. Another hit to his side disturbed his attempt at falling asleep. But you were still blissfully asleep, unaware of your sleeping jabs.

Luke did his best to ignore your kicks and just assumed that you were having nightmares too. With that thought he kissed your head again and pulled you into him. But his mind wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Vigilant of your sleepy assaults, Luke stayed awake and stared at the bottom of the bunk above, focusing on your breathing.

Your heavy breathing reminded him that you were still alive, that you both were still alive. Usually he lets you sleep and waits until the morning to talk about the nightmares but something about this one disturbed him. Your chest moved up and down, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling and then exhaling again.

Wait, what?

Luke sat up and looked at your rising and falling chest. A sleepy, “ow” drew his eyes to your face. You were still knocked out as if you were Hypnos himself. A sharp punch into his side startled him. Luke lifted the sheets up quickly and let out a surprised, “oh” when another pair of eyes stared back at him.

“Who are you?” the quiet voice asked him groggily.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry I think I wandered into the wrong bed by mistake.” Luke said. It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret but it was private. And he had to think of a fast explanation for the seven year old currently occupying your bed.

The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Why are you here?”

“Uhm…”

You started stirring awake and lifted your arm to crack your knuckles and elbow. Slowly opening your eyes, you stroked your little sister’s hair before Luke’s red face caught your attention. Even in the darkness of the night you could tell how embarrassed he was by the sheer heat his body was radiating, preparing his body for a fight or flight scenario.

“Baby?” You croak, voice deep with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Luke smiles sheepishly and pats your sister’s head. “Just uh, wanted to make sure that you guys were sleeping well.” He shoots an awkward glance at the seven year old sitting on your leg. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

It hits you slowly that there’s only one reason as to why he’s sneaked into your bed in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t to do any nefarious activities. “Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, uhm…this is Lacy, she’s my little sister. She was a little homesick so I let her sleep with me.”

Luke smiles genuinely, you’re always there for your younger siblings, taking on a parental role for the young ones who miss home or have never felt that kind of love. He looks down at your sister and pats her shoulder, “You’re lucky to have Y/N as a sibling, Lacy.”

Now fully awake, Lacy gives him a toothless smile. “I know.” She says sweetly and lays back down to snuggle into your embrace.

“I’ll uh, I’ll head back.” Luke says.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry Luke, we can make some space.” You pick up Lacy easily and move her to the wall. It was no wonder why your leg felt so light to Luke. Lacy was so small and looked five rather than seven.

“No no, it’s fine.” He looked at the small single bed that held the three of you, “Three’s a crowd, I didn’t know that I’d be an unexpected plus one.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. You’d hate to leave him alone especially after he just had a nightmare. “It’s no problem at all.”

Luke shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gingerly kisses your lips and Lacy squirms and shies away from you two. “Sleep well you two.”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #fluff #pjo #pjo tv series #charlie bushnell #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff

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ivysangel · 10 months ago

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hello angel 💕

as much as i love confident, cocky jason in bed, i also think he doesn’t have a lot of experience (just go with me here). between dying young and his all consuming question for revenge, i don’t think he’s actually had that many sexual partners or relationships. simply where would he find the time? like he’s familiar with the mechanics, knows what feels good and how to make a partner feel good, but he doesn’t really have a frame of reference for his preferences.

but that’s the exciting part! he gets to discover what really turns him on and gets him off with you! he figures out that he likes pinning you down and immobilizing you with his body but that ropes are a no go. that fucking you through at least four of your own orgasms first has him cumming so hard there’s stars in his vision. that he doesn’t like pain unless it’s from your nails clawing up his back. everything’s up for grabs and you get to figure it all out with him.

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

let out audible noises reading this...my entire body is tingling sunnie like you just CANNOT do this to me. i really don't even...how do i add to this??? what do i say other than i love you!!!!

this basically being the precursor to confident jason?? the first time you guys have sex, it's pretty vanilla, he makes you cum regardless, and it's still amazing and better than most guys with experience, but you can tell he's still a bit unsure of himself. he still hesitates to move too quickly, he's still scared to hurt you, and he still asks, "is this okay?" and "does this feel good?" but not in a sexy "i want to hear you" kinda way, in an "i'm worried i'm doing a bad job" kinda way.

like i said, the sex was never bad, but boy, does it get better when he discovers what he likes. you're play fighting when he finds out he likes it when you can't move under him. he's got you pinned between him and your living room carpet, trying to get out from his hold, and he's literally got a growing boner pressed into you through his pants. ropes are a no-go because not only does he have awful memories associated with them, but the prospect of not being able to touch you and you not being able to touch him pisses him off.

he finds out he likes it when you leave scratches on him one random night after you successfully sneak out of a wayne enterprises gala. expensive shoes and an even more expensive dress on the floor, but those pretty red nails you'd gotten on a whim stay attached to your fingers, leaving bright red lines up and down his back.

he likes it when you wear lingerie but thinks it's hotter when you wear cute matching pajama sets. he's fond of red, but green's his favorite color; you have to stay vigilant with birth control around christmas time. he'll never do public places but a bathroom or car here and there he won't say no to. he likes sex in the morning and in the shower. he likes it in the kitchen and on the couch but prefers the bed. he's not opposed to the floor, but he'll only do it there when he's desperate.

he gets turned on when you show interest in his hobbies and even more turned on when you talk about yours. he likes overstimulating you but not to the point where you're in pain, and he loves getting head but loves eating you out more.

his biggest turn-on is verbal consent; he wants to hear that you want him, and if you want him to do anything unconventional in any way, that's how you go about it. tell him in the middle of dinner how badly you need him, and he'll politely excuse you from the table, drive you guys a few miles away and then pull over and fuck you silly.

#jason todd lover #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #★ sunnie ★

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shadowyhideoutpeace · 5 months ago

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Moon Knight Fic Recs.

LIST FULL PART 2

Fluff

Plenty of cuddles for everyone

Chamber of Reflection

Birdy

Because I'm in Love with You

Love You the Same

From Dust

Head over heels Steven Grant

the morning after

for all you give (i’ll give it back to you)

love you like the sun came out

Comfort

cuddle quota

Just a Kiss

Best day of my life

Frightful

Stargazing

Dyed Hair Disaster

Roses for The Strange Man

Coffee and Kisses

Secret Identities pt.2

Keep The Secret?

sky and stars (AO3)

clumsy

Moments - Part 2

Moon Nights

here with you

Won’t Say I’m In Love

The Tongue Thing

Dress Up

drunk

"did you bring a jacket?"

HAVING A BABY WITH OSCAR ISAAC’S CHARACTERS

Angst

Softcore

Loss

Everything

Comfort

Spare Key

Panic

Resolutions | 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜 | Aspiration

Smoke and Mirrors | The truth is Rarely Kind (S&M pt.2) | pt. 3

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬

you know it's not the same | as it was

Lioness —> Moon Knight

Old friends → moon knight

perfect strangers

Bloody Hands

Scarred

Hospital Bed Confessions

Loveless God

An Eye For An Eye

Finishing the Job

Night Owl

dlz ; jake lockley.

Opia

Homecoming

You're my emergency

Stop Dead

“i’m tired of having to pretend we hate each other.”

the break-up

Blood at the corner of your mouth

Deserve

Smut

Too Good to be True

Fit To Burst

where lust ends, and love begins

While We Untangle

Cant fight the moonlight

Keep your vigils on the road

Monday mornings

fire & desire

Where To, Miss?

Gift of Min

THANK GODS (I) | THANK GODS (II)

First-Aid

Series

Red Flags

Moonstuck (AO3)

Moonknight/Eternals Crossover *

Reverence for the moon

GHOST-BLOOD//REVENANT: MASTERPOST

Sleep With Me, Anytime

Make Your Acquaintance Masterlist

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger

My You-niverse

Full Masterlists

obnoxioussmiley's Moonknight masterlist

Bibli0thecary Moonknight masterlist

Charnelhouse Moonknight Masterlist (SMUT 18+)

Bensolosbluesaber's Moonknight Masterlist

Stormkobra-5's Moonknight Masterlist

Blurbs/HCs

Living With Steven Grant Would Include…

HC for the other moon Boys reacting to the reader saying they’re pregnant

Head cannons abt the moon boys for the soul <3

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader

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yoonavii · 1 year ago

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Whispers in the Night (pt. 1)

OPLA! Sanji x Reader

A/N: I’ve decided to try writing in third person. It was a little difficult since im accustomed to writing in second, but I wanted to try something new. Hope you guys enjoy :)

The Going Merry sailed steadily under the vast canopy of stars, its wooden frame creaking softly as it glided through the calm waters of the Grand Line. The night was serene, the sky adorned with a tapestry of twinkling stars. On the ship, the Straw Hat Pirates rested, each finding their own corner of the ship to slumber. Amid the quietude of the night, you had somehow found yourself nestled in Sanji’s bunk. Such sleeping arrangements were not unusual among the Straw Hat crew; the bonds of camaraderie ran deep, and sharing bunks had become a natural occurrence.

As the night deepened, Sanji quietly entered his cabin. He had been engrossed in a late-night cooking session, his culinary skills dedicated to providing his crewmates with the best possible meal for the next day’s adventures. He didn’t want to disturb your slumber but felt an inexplicable urge to check on you. The soft, diffused light from the porthole bathed the room in a gentle, amber hue. Sanji’s sharp eyes fell upon your form, resting peacefully in his bunk, illuminated by the faint moonlight. In your sleep, you clutched a plushie close to your chest, your lips curled into a serene smile.

With the grace that was second nature to him, Sanji silently approached your sleeping figure. A sense of tenderness washed over him as he observed your relaxed expression; you looked like an angel in repose. And then, as if carried by the whispering night breeze, he heard it—a soft, barely audible whisper that made his heart skip a beat.

“Sanji…”

He blinked, questioning whether he had imagined it. But there it was again, your sweet voice, calling his name. It was soft and tender, like the murmur of leaves in a gentle breeze. Sanji’s heart quickened as he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. He realized that you were not awake; you were deep in the throes of a dream. Somehow, he had become a part of your dreamscape.

A faint blush warmed his cheeks. Hearing you say his name, not in distress or worry but with a happy lilt, filled him with a sense of wonder and delight. It was as though, in the sanctuary of your dreams, you were expressing a sentiment that your waking self might never utter. Sanji listened attentively, his azure eyes focused solely on you. He couldn’t help but smile, a mixture of joy and tenderness swelling in his chest. Your sleeping form and the way you softly murmured his name were enchanting, like a melody that had been composed just for him.

Respecting your slumber, Sanji decided not to wake you. He settled into a nearby chair, his gaze fixed on you with an affectionate and protective air. The moonlight played upon your features, casting gentle shadows, and painting you in an ethereal light. As the night wore on and the Going Merry continued its tranquil journey, your dreams seemed to grow brighter. The happiness that radiated from you, accompanied by those whispered words, filled Sanji’s heart with warmth and contentment.

He knew that when morning came, you might not remember these moments, but he would cherish them. Sanji remained in his quiet vigil, watching over you as the night unfolded—a silent promise that he would always be there, both in your dreams and in the waking world, to protect and care for you. And so, the night on the Going Merry continued, two souls intertwined in the realm of dreams, a secret confession of affection exchanged through whispered words—a promise that would endure long after the stars had faded into morning’s dawn.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months ago

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The Rites of Cybertron

Cybertronians are not without religion, nor are they lacking in holidays. While there are plenty of smaller ones scattered across the planet for various city states and historical events, Cybertronians have thirteen major holidays in celebration of the original thirteen. Although the celebrations are far less religious than the Primacy would like.

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The Rite of Prima

It is customary for every able bodied mech to endure the rite of Prima once a vorn on a pre-selected cycle that changes every few millennia. It is by far one of the most loathed or loved holidays. It completely depends on who is engaging in it.

The practice begins the moment the light of the nearest star touches Cybertron's surface. Every mech who is capable must then select a weapon and stand guard in absolute silence in a safe location of their choice. Rain or shine, they must keep to their station stoically until the local priest of the Primacy rings a bell just before sundown. Failure to stand guard will have them marked and prohibited from the remainder of the activities. All of this is done in remembrance of Prima's long watch and his supervision of Cybertron during its early history. It doesn't matter if anyone actually believes that is what went down. Not when they know that if they follow the tradition, the fun will begin in no time.

As soon as the bell is rung, that's when the true joy of the holiday begins. Every mech who stood guard is legally allowed to engage in a spar with whoever they make optic contact with first. The loser has a mark placed on their frame to indicate their loss and the winners will travel around their city state to fight other victors until one comes out on top. The victor of each city state (if a victor is found before the following cycle that is), will then be presented with a reward of their choosing by the Primacy. It is often so rare for a winner to turn up before the next morning that it is a grand event when one mech actually comes out on top.

Most are not fond of this holiday since it can lead to extreme crime spikes, but police are always on patrol and are forbidden to engage in the holiday so that they can stop troublemakers who wish to use the holiday as their chance to create chaos. Oftentimes, fights between high ranking combatants will be put on television for the population to watch throughout their activities. Those who don't participate will make bets.

All in all, it is one of the least reverent of holidays, but a well needed excuse for Cybertronian citizens to settle their scores legally and in a nonlethal manner. Although it has been said that long ago, Prima's rite was far more... mystical. A few who still follow the old faith have stated that when they hold their vigil, they maintain it for the entire cycle and in turn find themselves strengthened for trials to come.

The Rite of Recollection

The Rite of Recollection is a holiday devoted to Vector Prime and serves as an excuse for Cybertronian citizens to indulge in the wonders of the stars. While primarily focused around the young, The Rite of Recollection is a time for all of Cybertron. Mecha young or old will travel from every single corner of Cybertron in order to gather around with family or open locations for one sole purpose.

They gather to witness the stars.

Every light is turned off, save for the most essential. Work is put on hold, school is canceled, and not a spark is allowed to have a light brighter than a candle. All of Cybertron goes dark and its citizens come together quietly to watch as Cybertron finishes its rotation and a rare meteor shower graces the skies. The young are regaled with information on Cybertron's solar system and given sparklers to chase each other with in symbolization of Vector Prime's purpose as a keeper of space. Couples have been known to go out of their way to hunt down fragments of the meteors that land on the planet's surface to create gifts. Mentors will take the opportunity to witness constellations usually invisible due to light pollution. Vendors will sell trinkets modeled after the holiday, and quiet night markets will appear and promptly vanish over the course of a cycle.

Most of the cycle is laid back. The only ones who are frantic are the priests of the Primacy who throw their very sparks into recording as much as physically possible and try to collect as much meteor as they can. There are beliefs that the shards of meteor bring good luck, and the priests take that to another level and believe them to be a gift from Vector Prime himself that was sent from his divine domain amidst the space between the stars.

The Rite of Wisdom's Vigil

Modeled after the recorder Prime (Alpha Trion), Wisdom's Vigil is a deca-cycle long event dedicated to messing with everyone's perspectives. It was highjacked during the height of the golden age as a way to earn additional shanix through underhanded means, but its original purpose was quite clear. And despite the corruption, the Primacy was still able to maintain the event well enough to keep it going without completely losing its meaning.

Traditionally during Wisdom's Vigil, all Cybertronians under a certain age and with no serious health conditions, would be shipped to different parts of the planet to study a new culture and under a new mentor. It was one of the greatest student exchanges on the planet, and its entire function was to show citizens how others lived. With the Council's corruption, this ability to exchange students was limited to the higher castes and served as a form of political warfare amongst the higher castes. However, those who were able to engage in the holiday were required to adapt.

A mech from Iacon sent to Kaon would be taught the ways of Kaon and have to integrate into the culture as seamlessly as possible while serving under a new mentor in what was likely a completely different field than the one they were used to. A mech from Rodion sent to Praxus would need to roger up and adapt really quick just as much as a mech from Tarn would need to get used to falling a lot while being sent to Vos. Was the holiday chaotic? Absolutely. But it always yielded interesting results and gave every city a chance to share their culture. There have been many immigrants to various city states after those who engaged in the holiday found they preferred one culture over the one they were forged into.

The older Cybertronians who are not mentoring or being mentored have their own way of celebrating. The non religious will go to their closest archive and listen to various speakers who are brought in by the archives. The religious will go to an archivist and ask for the rite of confession. Upon being granted it, they will go somewhere where none save for the archivist can listen and pour out their spark, revealing whatever has been weighing them down and asking for guidance should they be lacking in information. This rite was hardly ever enacted prior to the war simply because many archivists were paid to sell whatever information they gleaned to the Council. Too many vanished after confessing, and so the rite died for all but the most unassuming individuals.

The Rite of Symbiosis

Developed as a way to honor Micronus Prime, the Rite of Symbiosis is a holiday that is actually banned in several city states with far more restrictive legislations when it comes to who counts as a citizen or not. The whole point of the rite is to celebrate the symbiotic relationships between minibots, intelligent mechanimals, symbiotes, and their carrier units. It is a time to remember how special such things are and how much stronger Cybertronians can be as a whole when they rely on one another, regardless of size or structure.

The rite begins for already bonded companions a few cycles before the actual holiday. It is customary for both parties involved in a companionship to go on some sort of trip or test their bond with trial. It doesn't need to be extreme, just something to reaffirm their reliance on one another. That is the only true holy aspect of the rite as the rest is largely commercial thanks to the Council. On the actual cycle of the rite, minibots without a companion who are looking for one will use their opportunity to show off their skill. The entire cycle is filled with performances from those looking for carrier units and carrier units attempting to show off their services to those looking for a team to hire. While technically one huge advertisement, there is actual joy to be found.

Circus teams have been known to be very prevalent and it is by far the best time to part ways and find new companions for carrier units who are unhappy with their situation. During the holiday minibots can also group together and legally register under one name if they fail to bond to anyone, therefore ensuring they are viewed as citizens sharing the same name instead of property to be owned. The rite is also the only time minibots and symbiotes who are unhappy can earn their freedom through contests. If an contest is issued, those watching much uphold it. The Primacy ensures this rite is honored.

Of course its not all hidden drama covered by a loose celebration. There are treats and dances. But the bit event revolves around the displays carrier units, minibots, symbiotes, and various teams put on to showcase their abilities. There is also a feast at the end of the whole event, but that is to be expected. Any holy aspect was long lost to ancient documents in the archives.

The Rite of Bounty

Created vorns before the Council was even formed, the Rite of Bounty is exactly what it sounds like. Made to honor Alchemist Prime, the only holy aspect about the whole thing is the fact that every bot will pray over their fuel before mixing and consuming. There entire cycle is one giant potluck and food fest. Mecha prepare stellar cycles in advance, collecting wild energon and additives to add to their creations. Then when the cycle arrives, brewers, mixers, purifiers, bartenders, and other fuel concoctors will emerge as one with their creations.

Every city is filled with vendors and stalls. Fuel is absolutely everywhere, often being given out for free as a way of sharing the joy. High-grade and energex flow like a river and drunk mecha are absolutely everywhere. The young are given treats and taught to purify energon safely. The old will bicker over who's energon is better and which high-grade is superior. The higher castes can't even get involved because it is simply too wild of an event. Not even the police are willing to try and stop whatever goes down for that whole cycle.

The people are happy, fueled, and more often than not, drunk off their afts. Not even the Primacy gets around it. They purposefully push their priests to go learn to mix up high grade to honor Alchemist. Many young brewers and fuel mixers have found their spotlight in winning one of the many many competitions across Cybertron during the course of the rite.

Those who still abide by the old faith tend to be a little quieter in their celebration and spend the cycle carefully creating a fancy meal for their loved ones with purely foraged supplies. But those mecha are few and far between. Most are more than happy to go get drunk with the rest.

The Rite of Convergence

Made to honor Nexus Prime, this holiday is still heavily commercialized, but it has managed to maintain some of its holy origins. During the rite, combiners, split sparks, and those who holds close bonds are given their chance to shine. The cycle begins with song where those who are bound to another will come together and sing a blessing of their own creation or choice. This lasts until halfway through the cycle when the solemn atmosphere will lift and festivities will slowly begin.

First, combiner teams will parade through the streets, showcasing their unity in their combined form. It is the only cycle they are allowed to wander fully combined without mission orders, so most relish in it. Combiner teams will often engage in games to showcase their unity in mind and frame after their various parades, all of which are observed keenly by the public. Most of the time, combiner teams, being so rare, will represent their entire city. They will go up against other teams in activities which the public vote on and the winners of said activities are allowed to select their next assignment and even change their city allegiance if they so desire.

Most regular mecha will engage in smaller versions of the combiner games. It is akin to the rite of symbiosis, but mean to include everyone. Mecha who may not know each other will group up and play to win. Teams of veterans will gather to prove their worth. It doesn't matter where one comes from. If you have a team or a partner, you can join the games. The most popular game amongst non-combiner teams is what they call the stilt wars. Mecha will group up and try to turn themselves into a makeshift combiner by standing on shoulders and swinging smaller companions around like arms. It's an absolute mess, but its the most fun many have all vorn long.

The religious will gather in quiet places to pray as one, usually holding servos and chanting in sync to try and feel Cybertron. Those who adhere to the old faith will enjoy the festivities for a time, but they will spent at least half the cycle communing with Cybertron itself through whatever means they deem appropriate.

The Rite of the Wilds

Developed in honor of Onyx Prime, the rite of the wilds is largely an excuse for those who have embraced Onyx's teachings to show their worth. Beastformers from around the entirety of the empire come together to perform feats and legally preach regarding the benefits of taking on an animalistic alternate mode. But that is not all, not in the slightest. The average Cybertronian will spent the cycle wandering.

Previously forbidden wilderness reserves are opened to those who feel inclined to explore. Guides are given and the cycle is dedicated to learning. Young Cyber-felines and Cyber-hounds are given or sold to those who want one. Various other mechanimals are put on display for those in need of a pet to take a look at. And surprisingly, seekers use the Rite of the Wilds as an excuse to show off their skills. They have their own holidays to celebrate the gift of flight, but since Onyx had wings, they take every excuse to show off.

The skies are filled with seekers and other flight frames showing their skills. The ground is covered in various dealers and animal sellers. The wilds are busy with guides taking eager mid-caste mecha around to see the natural wonders of Cybertron. Stations are set up to educate the young and give them the chance to interact with wild creatures under the watch of a a handler. It is a simple celebration and not nearly as beloved as many others, but enjoyed all the same.

Those who adhere to the old faith are known to up and vanish for the entire cycle before turning up like nothing happened a few deca-cycles later. No one is entirely sure why they do this, but they always head into the wilds, so most assume its a communion thing much like the Rite of Convergence.

The Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry

Created to honor Amalgamous Prime, the Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry is fully intended for stress relief. Those who participate will select a new identity and become the person they are imitating for the entire cycle. Mecha will go to increadible lengths to match their target, even prepping stellar cycles in advance. It is a test of skill, and it is during this time that many an actor makes their debut. There have even been actors so good at their jobs that they have been outright mistaken for their identity. Comedic relief regularly comes from those with the same faked identity participating in a battle of wits regarding who knows their target best.

It is a time of fun and mischief. Harmless pranks will be played on the unsuspecting and masked parades are all but mandatory. The young will try their hardest to emulate their mentors and the older amongst society will aim for greater challenges. Not even the Council and higher castes are exempt. Everyone tries to imitate someone. Although emulating a deceased Prime was outlawed after one particular incident where the population were convinced Onyx Prime returned from the dead when a shapeshifter got too excited. Even still, it is considered an increadible honor to have someone mimic you during the rite. As such, there is incentive amongst the population to be memorable if not loved.

Those who adhere to the old faith do not emulate. Instead they will wear masks based off horrific creatures from folklore. Their reasoning is quite simple. They are attempting to ward off the evil that lurks. Not even they know what it is, but it is tradition and they adhere to it.

The Rite of Discovery

Modeled in honor of Quintus Prime, the Rite of Discovery is about what it presents itself as. Most average civilians cannot actively participate, but they are all encouraged to watch as Cybertron's brightest minds gather together for debates, exhibitions, and scholarly discussion. Geniuses from every plausable field will gather in the center of whatever city state they live in and will group together to show off the fruits of their labor. It is not merely for pride's sake either. By showing off their work, they can gain additional funding, support, and assistance from potential investors.

Philosophers will all debate over heated questions (a fact that the council has abused to remove dissenters quietly). Physicists will work on group projects and try to one each other up in space bridge design. Researchers will present their findings on foreign worlds and get into bawls over who found what first. Astronomers will attempt to murder one another with their optics as they argue over star distances. Linguists will screech at anyone and everyone who disrespects their dialect in strange shifting tongues. Archivists with their digits too far deep into certain files will actively try and assault one another over translation issues. Not even medics are exempt. Doctors from around the world can and will create line long grudges over potential medical malpractice.

It is some of the most amazing argumentation of all time, and civilians love to watch. Not just because of the arguments of course. Civilians are able to watch the pinnacle of the Cybertronian race at work and are even able to watch many young upstarts cement themselves amongst the greatest of the great. Anyone who cares for drama knows to keep their optics and audials on the rite while it progresses. Most who engage in the rite get into controversy at some point.

Those who lived through the reign of the Quintessons devote their entire sparks to throwing effective middle fingers at their former overlords with their accomplishments. Many a scientist has laughed maniacally after presenting something the Quints would have never allowed.

The Rite of Truth

The Rite of Truth is not one that anyone loves a great deal. It is one of the few holidays that the Primacy fully owns, and the entire purpose of it is to get everyone to confess their sins. The story of Liege Maximo is told all throughout the rite and not a spark can go anywhere without getting it preached to them by a priest. Civilians are required to be silent unless they are going to be confessing something. Most opt to speak over private comms to avoid a priest or religious fanatic trying to get them to speak their truth. Those who are caught speaking without confessing something or other can be fined by the Primacy. It is by far one of the least liked holidays ever, even if it does get everyone a cycle off work.

Most are encouraged to actively rat on one another and become a whistleblower if they don't want to confess anything personal. This has led to the rise and fall of many an organization since the Primacy will take all big confessions seriously. The Council has used this to their advantage many many times. The average mech will usually take the change to drag skeletons out of the closet regarding those they dislike (at least if they are particularly spiteful). The best of the tea will make it into the media in no time.

Of course that is not all of it. Since most mecha decide to remain at home to escape the Primacy, small traditions have taken root. Most often, families and close comrades will gather to share a meal together and sort old scores and bitter grudges in a polite private manner. Secrets are shared and revealed. Drama is dealt with. It is a quiet affair for those who decide to be decent and not throw shade at everyone and everything that has ever wronged them.

The Rite of the Fallen

Created as both a warning and another way to help citizens deal with their issues, the Rite of the Fallen is complex. The Rite of the Fallen differs for absolutely everyone. Those who have issues and things they wish to repent for will have the one they wronged decide what they are to do (those whose victims are no longer living will go to a sanctioned friend or priest). These remorseful sparks will then spend the entirety of the rite fulfilling whatever they were ordered to do. Other mecha without anything they wish to outwardly deal with will spend the cycle mourning the dead or something they lost. Almost all of Cybertron will scrub off their colors to lament.

The story of the Fallen is retold to the young through quiet retellings. The old will gather and quietly grieve whatever they have lost. Often, those who grieve are not even grieving for themselves. If one has nothing to lament, then it is polite to lament alongside one who is suffering. Every mech is obliged to mourn alongside those who are already doing so. The religious aspect of the whole affair is found with the common prayer uttered by even the unfaithful in order to bring a cold comfort to they who suffer.

Those who follow the old faith know more of the Fallen, and instead of lamenting, they curse. They utter curses to keep the Unmaker away. They prepare elaborate strings of prayers to ensure that the evil cast away once never returns. They remember what was, and they fear its reawakening more than anything.

The Rite of the Arisen

There were genuine attempts made to turn the Rite of the Arisen into a holiday celebrating the reigning Prime, but that was shelved after a while. A separate holiday was made for that affair, leaving the Rite of the Arisen to fulfill its purpose.

The population are largely dubious about the mythical Thirteenth Prime, and often they can mix him and Primus together to create one legendary entity. This has resulted in the Rite of the Arisen turning into a celebration of the largest wave of newsparks to emerge from the Well each vorn. The cycle is never the same every vorn, so when it does come and the newsparks emerge, the rite is enacted in full. Every mech wanting to mentor a fresh mind will present themselves and go through a series of religious rites if they are faithful.

The Thirteenth represents rebirth, so often, those who recently passed away will have their designation given to one who emerges from the Well. A name can be left as an inheritance, and those who were given it can offer it to a newspark freely. It is a special event, a bond between the young and the old. There is no specific procedure, it simply it. The magical experience of watching new life emerge from Cybertron's core is special enough.

Those who adhere to the old faith will watch every time the rite begins. They wait, they observe, and they eagerly hope for the cycle when the lost Thirteenth Prime will return to the living realm. Many a priest is there to watch and warily write down designations of those they may find of interest.

Life is a gift, and all of Cybertron knows that when the rite begins.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #cybertronian worldbuilding #cybertronian culture #cybertronian cities #pre war cybertron #worldbuilding #religious symbolism #the thirteen primes

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hachyxd-blog · 6 months ago

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Ray´s B-day fanfic <3

"Today, years ago, my favorite yandere was born from all the visual novels I've had the fortune to see or play. I can separate fiction from reality, but I don't think I'm the only one who would like to be there to hug Ray and give him a little peace. As a small gift, I wanted to make a short fanfic of my coffee addict alongside a little drawing to complement it. I apologize in advance if it's not understood well, English is not my language and I'm using a translator."

@concreteparasite Gracias por crear tal maravilla.

Happy birthday.

Who would have thought it would be possible to keep a secret from the great Binary star. Mc laughed happily in the kitchen as she finished washing the dishes. It had been just over a year since she moved into Ray's home. At first, it wasn't easy; it seemed like the option to leave was given, or rather, it was never up for discussion. After much talking, they managed to make it work together: Mc wouldn't be confined to her new home, but she would always stay in touch with Ray when she went out.

Truth be told, it's not like she could keep a secret from him; after all, he possessed the incredible ability to read minds, but she trusted him not to read hers all the time. Mc really believed it was impossible to turn on her mind... until she discovered it. On her maternal side, she spoke Spanish, and unconsciously she had been thinking in that language, discovering a weakness to Ray's ability. He seemed annoyed that he couldn't fully understand, but there was nothing he could do.

Today, in particular, he seemed very upset. I concentrated as best I could so that the only language I thought in was Spanish and not to ruin the surprise.

"Tell me what you're thinking..." Ray's voice appeared behind me, his hands wrapped around my hips as he rested his chin on my shoulder. The height difference between us was cute.

"I'm not thinking anything important," I said playfully.

"Stop," he said seriously.

"What?"

"You've been thinking in Spanish all day," His voice sounded annoyed, while I tried to contain my laughter.

"Really? I didn't realize."

"It's annoying."

"Well, darling. It's not the end of the world if you don't know everything that's going on in my mind."

Without responding, Ray left me alone in the kitchen and headed to our room, then came out in his superhero suit. Before me was Binary Star in all his glory, the only difference being that he didn't show that fake smile but still looked upset.

Unknowingly, due to my practice, I had been thinking in Spanish again.

Normally, he would give me a kiss goodbye and go to his vigil shift. But today, he flew off the balcony without looking at me. I won't deny that it hurt me. But it meant I was on the right track to keep the surprise.

Ray came back around 5 in the morning. Half-asleep, I felt him walking around the room before lying down on the other side of our bed. It seems he's still upset because he didn't hug me as he always does.

The next morning, I let him sleep, it helped that we slept separately, so I got out of bed easily. After putting on my robe, I went downstairs and asked the neighbor for my package. I had gotten a chocolate cake with coffee to celebrate Ray's birthday. But if I kept it in our house, he would realize I was planning in Spanish. The neighbor agreed to keep the cake at his house along with my gift.

I went back home, made coffee, and took the cake out of its box, and my gift was already on the tray.

In our room, Ray was still asleep. I cleared my throat and started singing "Happy Birthday."

Ray looked for a moment and then covered his face with his pillow. I could see that lovely smile; he was embarrassed.

I left things on the bedside table and threw myself to hug and kiss Ray; I knew I should have let him sleep more, but I couldn't contain myself after all these days preparing the surprise.

In no time, I was caught in his arms.

"Everything... was for this," His voice sounded deeper from just waking up, but he seemed happy.

"Yes, did you forget your own birthday?" I joked, stroking his soft hair, and running my hand over his cheek. "Ignoring them doesn't mean you stop aging, old man."

"No, I just don't usually celebrate it." He ignored my joke and just passed his hand over his face, somewhat frustrated.

"Well, get used to it. This might be the only birthday I manage to keep a surprise. Next year, you'll know what to expect." I exclaimed proudly.

Ray smiled, keeping his eyes closed; maybe it was the fact that he now had someone to be with him for the following birthdays that made him take this even more joyfully.

"If you don't want cake now, we can save it for later." I gave a glance to the table with his cake and gift, along with his essential morning coffee.

"How about the gift?" He pointed to the purple box. "Can I have it now?"

It was at this moment that nerves increased from zero to a hundred. Everything would be decided at this moment.

"Of course," I handed over the gift, watching as he slowly unwrapped it.

Ray's eyes widened as he looked at the contents of the box and then at me, pulling out two handmade dolls of them and a pregnancy test. After a moment of silence, Mc cleared her throat.

"D-don't think I'll give you a gift like this every year." I laughed nervously.

"Since when—" maybe it was shock, but his voice sounded distant, as if he didn't completely believe what was happening.

"I-it's still early, I haven't been to the doctor yet." Ray looked at me as if I had committed a crime. "I-it would have ruined the surprise."

Ray went from surprise to anger to simply accepting the inevitable: the love of his life was forgetful.

"I swear I feel fine. But you're happy, I mean, we talked about this in the past, but maybe you were thinking of another time in the future... I..."

Ray's hands took me by my cheeks, cradling my face, to give me a tender kiss.

"I am, I mean, I'm so happy that I'd like to hold you so tight in my arms and show you how excited I am about this." He gave me a subdued smile.

"Ray, what's wrong?"

"What if I don't do it right, being a good father?"

"Well, no father is prepared for this. We'll learn together..."

I could see Ray's face relax at my touch and my words. His hands surrounded my back, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Happy birthday..."

"Thank you..." His whisper was weak, but I felt genuine gratitude.

"Next year, we won't be alone on your next birthday, Mr. Dad."

We stayed hugged for a while. I didn't know what was going through Ray's mind, but whatever it was, I would be with him.

When I set out to eat the cake, I was interrupted by Ray, who carried me to the shower to get ready to go to the hospital. It was funny how from one moment to the next, our small bathroom became a dangerous area in Ray's eyes: slippery floor, sharp-cornered furniture, and a bathtub where I could drown, among many other dangerous things. He took out his phone and started calling to have our entire home redesigned to make it safe for me and our upcoming baby. And may God have mercy on the people in charge if I ever got hurt, no matter how insignificant it was.

If this was going to be my life from now on, it would be a long nine months.

"Your father has gone crazy," I said as I stroked my still flat belly. "But that's how I love him."

#binary star hero #binary star hero vn #binarystarhero #bshvn

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thrashkink-coven · 5 months ago

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One of the most valuable things that Lucifer has taught me is that being passionate is a virtue.

Lots of folks think that having bad bitch boss energy means being apathetic and stoic, or being unbothered by things and striking down all your enemies with an ice cold glare. Being unreadable and mysterious and unpredictable in a sexy way. I though that when I started working with Lucifer he would teach me how to be cold and distant so that I could ascend beyond any problem because I’m soooo enlightened.

But he taught me the exact opposite. He taught me not to glare coldly at my enemies, but to look them right in the eyes with sincerity and empathy to understand why they are the way that they are, and how to navigate the situation appropriately. I don’t have to destroy my enemies and conquer all, I must know when someone is toxic to me and be prepared to remove myself from those situations or find ways to navigate them in healthy ways. He taught me that I’m allowed to be mad when people mistreat me, I’m allowed to cry and get frustrated. I won’t yell or hurl insults, I’ll communicate how I feel and ensure that my feelings are heard even if not respected. My emotions and intentions do not have to be a puzzle to those who surround me, I have the power to put the pieces together with my words and actions.

And I will loudly and proudly love the things I love, ramble on and on about my favourite books and shows because he’ll always listen. And smile widely when I see my friends. Be cartoonishly and desperately in love with my partner and cherish him like every day was our last.

I’m allowed to be emotional about things that don’t matter, like a character death in a show I like or dropping my last gummy worm on the carpet. I’m allowed to get excited to see the moon or the sun or my cat. I’m supposed to be.

I don’t have to become a master manipulator who hacks into people’s minds to make them secretly obey me like I’m playing chess. I can become vigilant and detail oriented so I can discern peoples emotions and intentions to better connect with them as people and to offer them support wherever I can. I hope the people around me enjoy my company as a real person, not because they secretly admire and envy me.

I don’t need to be cool and calm and in control of everything just so other people can tell me what a boss bitch I am. I’m allowed to need breaks and ask questions when I’m confused. My dedication to my work and art will speak for itself.

Lucifer, the king, the emperor, the morning star, has always been admired for his incredible beauty and inspiration, but never once did he claim to be perfect. Most beautiful, most prideful, perhaps, but always so with all of his quirks and flaws. Even when he falls, he rises again. His intense loyalty and passion for knowledge is what makes him the light bringer. It never had anything to do with a cold glare or strict attitude, it was always an admiration of his love for his purpose. When the angels of the rebellion followed him it was not because he was cold and cunning, it was because he was an inspiration set ablaze in glory. He was warm and light and passionate.

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dittanyinbloom · 2 years ago

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Hand Written

The final part to Note Taking and Study Habits

Ominis x fem!MC, fluff, kissing, it is just kissing but I wouldn’t say it’s safe to read at work

This is all so self indulgent but idc I write for my own entertainment first and foremost

.✉️🦉❄️

Over the weekend, you ran into a bit of trouble. Your first trip to Hogsmeade with Natty had famously resulted in a troll battle, but most people didn’t know that the journey hadn’t ended there. During a well-deserved butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, you were confronted by Victor Rookwood and Theophilus Harlow. One thing led to another, and now as of late, you and Natty found yourself acting as protectors of the Highlands. Whenever one of you heard of Ashwinders causing mayhem, the two of you would team up and hunt them down. This time, you may have bit off more than you could chew.

The wizards you fought against that weekend had been poachers. Not only that, but Theophilus Harlow himself had shown to the battle. By then, you had already taken a few curses and had long since exhausted your supply of Wiggenweld potion. Lucky for you, they had captured two hippogriffs, one of them being Poppy Sweeting’s friend Highwing. The killing curse was thrown, but thanks to the hippogriffs, you and Natty had made it out, narrowly.

The next morning, the two of you had joined Poppy for breakfast to ask what should be done about the two fully grown hippogriffs in your nab-sack.

“Well, I would say to release them back to their home, but with all the poachers still running about. . .” Poppy sighed heavily. Scotland wasn’t safe for any beast at the moment.

“There is somewhere I could take them,” you offered hesitantly, “I didn’t want to take Highwing there without your approval since the two of you are so close. But I can show you, both of you.” You smiled at Natty. “It’s quite extraordinary, actually. I’ve been waiting for the right time to share it with people.”

Natty returned your smile. “You have me intrigued.”

Poppy’s eyes lit up. “Is it close enough for us to go after classes today?”

“Why wait until after classes?” Then you were standing from your seat in the Great Hall to lead the girls out. Overhead, the owls had arrived to deliver the morning mail. A letter was dropped on the table for you, and you placed it directly in your robes for later. Most of the mail you received was from people asking for favors or updating you on ongoing quests they’d assigned you. Whatever it was could wait for now.

The girls followed you out of the Great Hall, giggling and unable to contain their excitement for whatever Hogwarts mystery you were about to show them.

Sharing the Room of Requirement with others re-sparked your excitement for the space. The three of you rushed in nearly late to Charms. You snatched food from the Great Hall during lunch just to run back to the Astronomy tower. Poppy took to the skies of the vivarium. Natty had fallen asleep on your couch cuddling a puffskin. You debated dozing off as well, exhausted from the weekend, but you stayed vigilant and watched over the time to know when you would have to drag the other girls to DADA.

“That. . was. . brilliant!” Poppy had an arm hooked around one of both yours and Natty’s elbows. Her balance was still off from the flight.

“Now that the two of you know it’s there, I think you should be able to find it yourselves. I’m not in the castle much these days, so the beasts would love your company.”

Natty brightened at the invitation. “I’m looking forward to exploring as my animagus form when I am better rested. Galloping around was not in the stars for today.”

“That puffskin took quite the liking to you,” you teased.

“I had an inkling you would be good with beasts, Natty,” Poppy commented, “You have a warm soul. The creatures see that.”

After classes, the three of you were yet again exploring the room. Free from needing to keep track of time, you planted yourself on the couch for a well-deserved rest. As you turned on your side, a curious crunching sounded from under you. You frowned as you sat up, digging through your robes for the parchment preventing you from sleep.

The letter from that morning! Might as well open it now and find out what sort of predicament you would be spending the rest of your weeknights solving.

What caught your eye first was how meticulously the words were placed. There were perfectly even indentations on both sides. The spacing was exact, and the lines, while ever so slightly up and to the left, were even in height. Someone had planned out what they were going to say to you. This was rare among the desperate scribbles of your usual quests. Even professors who wrote to you about assignments were flippant with their quill strokes, far too busy to even attempt legibility for a mere student.

Y/N

I fear apologies are in order. Sebastian insists you’ve been distant this weekend because of my actions. Offending you was not my intentions. The touches were merely a way to express that I share the same sentiment. I think of you often. In fact, I have not been able to think of much else since you started taking my name. If I’ve misinterpreted your feelings, please meet me today after classes in the Undercroft. You are owed a proper apology face to face.

If you happen to feel the same, you know where I’ll be.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

You stood from the couch so fast the room was spinning. By now, he must have assumed you weren’t going to show. How awful he must feel to think you didn’t care enough about his letter to even address it.

“Deek!” You called out, wildly looking around the room for him.

He had popped up out of nowhere, startling you. “Yes, Miss?”

Pressing the letter against your chest in shock while trying to collect yourself, you uttered, “Would you be so kind as to let the girls know I had to leave, but they are welcome to stay for as long as they’d like?”

“Of course, Miss. is everything all right?”

“Yes, for once, I’ve received a letter with good news, but I must meet with the sender right away.”

“Deek will make sure your friends are well taken care of in your absence.”

“Thank you!”

By the time you arrived at the entrance of the Undercroft, you were out of breath and only panicking worse. What if he had already given up? What if he was angry? What if your late arrival changed how he felt? You stomped down the stairs as quick as your thick boots would allow and ducked under the metal grate since it wasn’t rising fast enough.

Finding yourself inside the echoey room was like being doused in the icy waters of the sea. All the adrenaline that had been fueling your sprint over had dwindled, leaving only trepidation in its wake.

“Ominis?” You called out, hating how loud your voice seemed against the dead silence of the room. Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. You couldn’t even hear the faint sound of his breathing. You were alone.

“Ergh!” You let out through your teeth. How could you be so careless? Why couldn’t you have read the letter at any other point in the day? “Confringo!” You cast at a hanging candelabra. It swung violently from the momentum of your spell. The next victim was a tower of boxes. One by one exploding into bits, “Bombarda! Diffindo! Depulso!”

You turned on your heel, aiming at the desk in the corner that was rarely ever used for school-related revision. “Flipendo!” The contents crashed to the floor: a vase shattering, candles snapping in half, tomes scattering about. Still, the chaos didn’t feel like enough. You stormed over to the wreckage and kicked the now very sideways desk for good measure. Apparently, your steel-toe boots were a little worn down from all your adventures because you felt the impact jolt up even past your shin.

With absolutely no balance, you plummeted to the floor with a wince, grabbing at your foot in agony. “Mother of Merlin! So stupid!” You had fallen into the debris. Now that you were coming down from the rage, you frowned at the mess around you. Meekly, you uttered, “Reparo,” at the stack of boxes you’d destroyed.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you aimed at the desk next. In the blink of an eye, everything was in it’s rightful place. Even the tiny shard of glass in your palm had rejoined the vase.

You sat at the desk, exhausted from your meltdown. Your left hand landed on a folded piece of parchment. The only person who ever worked at this desk was Sebastian when he was reading something he wasn’t supposed to. Curious as to what kind of notes he was taking, you unfolded the paper to find the diligent penmanship from Ominis’s letter.

Y/N

We have to leave in a hurry. Anne is feeling too ill to walk, but Solomon is traveling in Egypt. He is meeting with old friends from the Ministry, Curse Breakers. Anne needs someone to look after her for a few days, and Sebastian didn’t want to go alone. He shouldn’t have to be alone, not at a time like this.

I hope this message finds you well.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

Oh, what a fool you had been. You looked up at the arching ceiling and let out a laugh of disbelief. While you were having a tissy fit about being late, Anne was suffering. Merlin, how idiotic you felt.

Ignorant, as Sebastian would so kindly say. And this time, he’d have been right.

If Solomon was away, you might have just the thing to lift the spirits in Feldcroft. All you needed was a quick trip to the Room of Requirement, and you could be on your way by curfew.

It was far too late to be knocking on someone’s door, but there you stood in the entryway in the dead of night. The air was bitter and unforgiving. The nights were always chilly this close to the sea, but this year's winter seemed to be never-ending. The moment you appeared at the floo station in the middle of town, you debated sending yourself right back to the warmth of your common room.

The front door swung open to reveal a familiar wand pointed at your face. Sebastian, looking rough from sleep, mustered up the deadliest glare he could and opened his mouth to spew out a threat. His scowl brightened to a brilliant smile, recognizing you were no foe.

“Well if it isn’t the subject of the hour herself!” He stepped aside, ushering you into the small home so he could shut out the harsh weather. “You had us thinking Ashwinders were looking for a fight.”

“Assuming they would knock,” Anne added as she sat up in her bed.

“Sorry to frighten you, and wake you. ., but with Solomon gone I thought these might be of use.” You pulled a bag of freshly picked shrivelfigs from your enchanted satchel. Ever since your first trip to Feldcroft, you had been growing them. The broken look on Sebastian’s face, when his uncle had ruined the one he had bought for Anne, was etched in your soul.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Sebastian mused as you handed him the fruit.

“I don’t think you’ve ever admitted you love me.”

“Hmm, very well. I’ll add it to my to-do list.”

“I look forward to it, Sallow.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Gaunt.”

“Hey now,” Anne chastised, “Did we not just discuss that at great length?

Sebastian rolled his eyes then turned to you, “I’m very sorry. Does the name make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you admitted, braving a glance at Ominis who was sitting at the head of Sebastian’s bed. You nearly gasped at his appearance.

When Sebastian had answered the door, you didn’t take a second glance at his apparel. But seeing Ominis out of school robes was always a treat. Even those few times you had, he would still be sporting his uniform vest and button-down. Now he was wearing a long sleeve thermal that seemed too loose in every area it was meant to be tight for warmth. It was likely one of Solomon’s since the boys had to leave on the spot without having time to pack.

Ominis looked terribly endearing swimming in the giant shirt with blankets looking at his hips. His hair was still somehow in place despite the fact that they had clearly already been lying down before you came in. The space in the bed next to him was disheveled from Sebastian jumping out of bed to answer the door.

“Told you she likes him!” Anne proclaimed, talking with Sebastian as if you and Ominis weren’t in the room. Though, in her defense, with the way you were looking Ominis up and down, it may as well have been Anne and Sebastian that weren’t in the room.

“Then explain the cold shoulder!”

“She was probably busy being her usual self. You do remember her having ancient magic abilities to discover, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t explain not showing up to the Undercroft.” Sebastian refused to back down from the argument.

“But she’s here now, isn’t she?” Anne reached a hand out to you. “Come, Y/N. You can sleep with me. It’s late, and we should all be resting.”

Sebastian put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think the married couple should-“

“Sebastian!” Ominis chastised. “Enough before I hex you. Get back to bed.”

You were timid to join Anne in the tiny bed. The old wood creaked in protest from your weight. She was quick to cover you in her warm blankets. Only then did you realize how badly you had been shivering from the cold. Anne’s head unabashedly laid on your shoulder as she hummed.

“This is lovely. Sebastian has refused to sleep in the same bed as me since we started school. We used to cuddle every night.”

Across the room, Sebastian seemed to groan in agony, “Anne, quit telling people that.”

Anne went on defiantly, “He used to be so sweet to me, but he drools in his sleep.”

You giggled. “Why am I not surprised? He drools a bit in his waking hours as well. Especially in Miss Garlick’s class.”

“Hmm, wonder why that is?”

From the boys’ side, a light slap rang out, followed by the sound of a wand clattering to the floor.

“Don’t hex them!” Ominis whispered.

“Just a silencing charm!” Sebastian said defensively.

The bed was empty when you woke up. Anne had not traveled far in their tiny abode. She was relaxing with tea at the dining table. Her plush armchair stood out between the other bare, wooden dining chairs. Ominis was awake and tending to the kettle. Sebastian was snoring. A dark spot had formed by his mouth on the pillow. You bit your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing.

Lovely blackmail material for later.

“Good morning,” Ominis said, holding out a steaming mug to you. His voice startled Anne who hadn’t even noticed you had woken up.

“Thank you.” From the smell alone, you could tell he put the perfect amount of sugar. You nearly melted into the cup yourself. What you would give to wake up every morning to Ominis. . . His hair had finally given in and fallen ever so slightly out of place due to not having its usual routine. He felt the wisps on his forehead and frowned, raising his hand to move them. You reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Leave it.”

He went from pink to red alarmingly fast. You sipped your tea and caught Anne’s watchful eye. She was smiling, despite her words, “I’m starting to pity Sebastian. He was right. This is disgusting to witness.”

Deciding it was your turn for a bit of fun, you teased, “Yes well, you and Sebastian might as well get used to it. Marriages do tend to last a while, the good ones, anyway.”

Adoring the opportunity to join in on the mischief, Anne added, “I guess so. Ominis is one of the good ones.”

“Precisely.”

Ominis had his own notes to go over on that very topic. He grabbed his coat from the hanger, shrugging it on as he asked, “Y/N, would you care to join me for a morning stroll? I thought we could pick something up from the vendor. He usually has bread ready by now, and this place is due for some more fresh food to go with those shrivelfigs. Maybe a few eggs for breakfast as well. .”

“I would love to.” You mimicked his movements to grab your coat, but he had picked it up first to hold it up for you. You couldn’t help but nervously glance at Anne who seemed very amused at the whole show behind her cup of tea.

Just one arm and then the other. It wasn’t so bad, that is, until after when he put his hands on both your shoulders and smoothed out the fabric. When you turned to face him, he held out an elbow for you to hold.

“Oh,” you murmured under your breath.

Timidly, you accepted his guide, but Ominis stayed frozen in the foyer for a second longer to ask, “I’m sorry, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Is this arrangement all right with you?” He nodded toward where your hand was shamelessly finding its place on his arm.

“Yes, of course. You lead. I have no idea where we are going,” you assured him.

“It’s rare people ask me to lead them places,” Ominis was attempting a jovial tone, perhaps to put your budding nerves at ease.

It didn’t help much due to your mouth spewing words without a thought, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Now it was Ominis muttering a soft, “Oh,” while mulling over the depth of your words.

Anne slurped her tea inappropriately loud, causing the two of you to jump. You offered her a sheepish smile, a silent apology for forgetting that you and Ominis were not alone.

“I want a niece or nephew named after me,” Anne proclaimed. “It’s the least you could do to make up for this.”

Throwing a look of annoyance Anne’s way, Ominis was quick to fire back, “I think Sebastian has that cover-“

“Consider it done!” You promised the girl.

Ominis quickly recovered from his shocked appearance to ask, “Do I not have a say in the naming of our child?”

“Take a moment to consider the benefits. If it’s named after her, she’ll be guilted into babysitting. Would you rather have Sebastian looking after our child while we’re away? We’d come back to a demon baby.“

“Bold of you to assume Anne is any more responsible than Sebastian. She caused quite a myriad of trouble in our early years, more so than Sebastian. Do not let her fool you. Sebastian has yet to beat her detention record. Try as he might.”

Then you were whisked away on a proper tour of Feldcroft. Sebastian had previously shown you around, but those landmarks were more about the places they had fought Goblins or where Anne had been cursed. Ominis was naming off what houses belonged to which neighbors and listing who grew what each season. He spoke as if this hamlet were his home, but you were well aware the Gaunts resided in Northern England.

Perhaps Feldcroft was more of a home to him than that place ever would be. That would make sense. Sebastian and Anne seemed more like family to him than the true family he spoke ill of. It was a fine place to call home. Quaint and quiet. There was more variety in the cities or even villages like Hogsmeade, but the hustle and bustle of those places got old. Visiting Feldcroft with Sebastian had always been a guilty pleasure. Pleasure because you craved simplicity after all your adventures, but guilty for feeling so at peace while Sebastian and Anne were struggling.

With the sun breaking through some of the clouds, today would be warmer than yesterday. By the afternoon, most of the snow would likely melt away. Days like that were usually colder than the weeks of snow that preceded them. The wetness seeped into clothes and chilled to the bone. With all the fields surrounding the hamlet, you hoped the ground would soak up the moisture quick. Either that or the four of you would be inside for the entire duration of your stay.

A while into the walk, Ominis finally took out his wand to lead the both of you toward a hay bale big enough to sit. A cart of chomping cabbages rolled by. You tried not to shiver, knowing very well how deadly those things could be. Assuming you were cold, Ominis trailed a hand down your arm to find your own placed in your lap. He encapsulated your hands in his and brought them to his lips, blowing hot air to heat them deliciously.

You had to mentally remind yourself to breathe, not wanting to get called out as you were in the library. His actions heated you up in more way than one. Your face felt overwhelmingly warm, as well as other regions of your body you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge just yet. But in truth, you greatly appreciated the notion to warm you. You hadn’t been able to find a scarf before running off to Feldcroft, probably due to your supply being mostly piled in Ominis’ dorm room.

“We should actually buy the bread and eggs for breakfast, but I must admit the point of this walk was to get you alone.” He still had your hands hostage, holding them near his chest. They stayed there a beat longer before he finally let you have your freedom, which used to be a sensation you craved before you grew used to Ominis’ affections.

“I’m sorry if coming here was not appropriate,” you spewed out. “I hadn’t read the letter in time, or else I would have met with you before.”

“After how foolishly I acted, I would have understood if you didn’t show at all. If my second letter made you worry about Anne, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean for you to follow us here, but I am glad you did. Is that selfish of me?”

“If wanting me around is selfish, then I wish you would be selfish more often.”

“I’m selfish all the time.”

You took that as an invitation to move closer on the makeshift bench. Now with your hip and shoulder flush against his own, you were practically forced to entangle your overlapping arms. “Ominis, I should tell you. . This weekend I had not meant to ignore you.”

“It was well deserved and to be expected, only natural after how uneasy I made you feel. Just because you drew hearts around my name doesn’t mean you would want my. . . advances.” Ominis visibly cringed at his own terminology.

“I do,” you blurted. Merlin, with all the marriage references, you may as well get out your wand and make an Unbreakable Vow at this point.

Ominis tilted his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I meant to say that it’s okay. You were right in assuming I wanted. . that.”

The heavy feeling in the boy’s chest seemed to lighten. He sighed in relief. “Oh, I felt horrible thinking I had made you uncomfortable in any sort of way.”

“Nervous, but not uncomfortable.”

He lifted his wand to let the red light take in the quiet hamlet. You stiffened, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of your surroundings. Loyalists and Ashwinders were still a heavy threat, especially in Feldcroft. For a moment you had let your guard down, and now you felt terrible for not keeping watch.

Oddly, not a soul was in sight. Even the livestock that often wandered about was either off in the snowy fields or no doubt huddled up in a barn somewhere. The morning was young, you could tell from how loud the birds were chirping. Most residents were still hunkered down in their homes except for a dedicated merchant setting up their cart near the well in the center of town. They weren’t quite near enough for Ominis to pick up their sound, though, his hearing could be even better than you already assumed.

You tucked yourself close to his side to whisper, “Did you hear something?”

He shook his head no, lowering his wand. “I only wanted to make sure we were alone.” The tip of his nose had gone pink from the cold. His cheeks were rosy, too, from being out in the morning breeze.

“It’s just us,” you reassured softly. “There’s a merchant setting up in the center of town, but they-“ A hand obstructed your view. Ominis was tentatively reaching out. The light brush of his index finger against your jaw is what cut off your train of thought. The others landed on your pulse, his thumb finding your chin. It glided up, moving across your lips that were still slightly parted from the words that got left behind.

“Don’t move,” he didn’t really need to tell you. The shock of it all was enough to turn you into a statue.

Then he was leaning in. His movements were slow but deliberate. His thumb left your lips only to be replaced by his mouth ghosting over yours. That’s where he stopped. You thought he was second-guessing himself, but then you could ever so slightly feel him break into a smile.

“I didn’t mean for you to stop breathing,” he teased. “Take a breath.”

You did, a pathetically weak one that is. But as soon as you took in air, Ominis closed the distance. His lips, though soft and gentle, weren’t hesitant in any way. He still held the side of your face, guiding you to him.

Your eyes had closed on instinct, so you had become lost in the sensation of him against you. His hand was the only thing grounding you until you reached for his jacket and tugged him closer. Only then did he take advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He let his other hand explore the side of your body, finding your hip and then running up and down the side of your thigh. You couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.

Then, all too quickly, his lips were pulling away. You followed, chasing his movements, needing more. The hand cradling your jaw held you in place, letting him put his forehead to yours and chuckle.

“You want more, but you stopped moving.”

Had you stopped? You didn’t mean to. “You distracted me.”

He hummed in approval and squeezed your thigh just above your knee. The sound of your breath hitching was all the confirmation he needed. “You really like that, don’t you?”

Your grip on his jacket was se desperate that your hands were starting to ache. “Ominis, please. .”

“Do you even know what you are asking for, my dear? I think I should take you on a proper date before doing any of that. And perhaps, not in the center of town. .”

You immediately tucked your face in the crook of his neck, far too embarrassed to face the world after that. “I’m sorry.” Your breath on his neck made him go stiff. A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and you were acting on it before you could talk yourself out of it. You brought your lips to his neck, just below his jaw. His hand instinctively tightened around your thigh as he let out a gentle gasp.

“Oh,” was all he could say, now deeply understanding the intensity you felt whenever he would touch you. At first, you peppered kisses along his skin, but when you came across his pulse your self-restraint floated away. Feeling how quick it gave you the confidence to open your mouth wider, sucking his pale skin until it went red and warm. Trickles of electricity ran down his spine. He wanted to chastise you for being so lude in public, but he couldn’t form words. His body felt limp, completely compliant to whatever you chose to do. Then his own tongue betrayed him, “Right there.”

Eager to please, you focused all your attention on that spot. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and tugged slightly so that he’d grant you better access. Ominis didn’t give any resistance to your demand.

It was thrilling to know you could make him experience all the things he made you feel. You pushed his limits further by grazing your teeth against him. His hand shot up your thigh to your hip, the other landing on your other side. He pulled on you as if he wanted you closer, but any closer you’d be in his lap. Although that idea was beyond tempting, the sound of someone’s front door creaking open made you pull away from his neck.

The loss of contact made him frown. He quickly cupped your cheeks to pull you in for another kiss, but you put a hand against his chest, holding him at bay with a giggle.

“Later,” you promised, “-when we’re alone again.”

Ominis tilted his head in confusion. His eyes went wide when he heard the soft chatter of a neighboring couple exiting their home behind him. Quickly, he let you go and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t hear them come out.”

You left a brisk kiss on the little cluster of moles decorating his cheekbone before standing and tugging him along. “Come on. We still need to buy breakfast.”

By the time you made it back to the Sallow home, Sebastian was moaning about how starved he was. His eyes lit up when the door opened. Anne had told him the two of you had gone to collect bread and eggs. His excitement morphed into terror at the sight of his best friend in such disarray. In all the years he’s known Ominis, Sebastian had never seen his hair so wild.

“Are you okay? Were you attacked?” He squared Ominis’s shoulders and frowned at the red marks littering his neck. Anne giggling behind him made Sebastian piece together what he was seeing. His face twisted up in a look of disgust. “Oh, are you serious? In the middle of town?! Do I need to start escorting you two everywhere?”

“That’s hardly necessary,” you insisted at the same time Ominis admitted, “I don’t think that would stop her.”

“Give me that,” Sebastian growled as he took the basket of food from you. “Unbelievable, both of you. Go sit while I cook.”

“Let’s listen to Sebastian,” Ominis whispered with a smirk forming. Curious as to what he was planning, you let him guide you to the dining table. You’d expected him to pull out a chair for you, but he sat down first and then pulled you closer, patting his thigh. “Come on, he said to sit.”

Your heart was jumping haphazardly in your chest. You sat with your back pressed to his chest. His arms wasted no time snaking around your middle and pulling you close.

“Deplorable,” Sebastian muttered.

“No, it’s sweet. Quit acting like you’re so modest, and make my eggs,” Anne demanded. “I want my yolk runny.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, giving in, but only because his twin had ridiculed him. “Fine. And how would you like your eggs, Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt?”

“Whatever is easiest,” you offered.

“Preferably not poisoned,” Ominis suggested.

Y/N,

Feldcroft has been absolute mayhem while you've been away. I know this work trip is necessary, but I've never been shy to admit how selfish I am when it comes to you. If you are able to sneak away a few days early, let's not tell a soul. You can hide away in the house, and I could have you to myself just until others are expecting your return.

Speaking of others, I must warn you that your primroses have been trampled by Sebastian's son. I assume I don't even have to name which one was the culprit, but he has promised to help you replant them on your return. Sebastian would have done it with him, but somehow our dear friend managed to learn absolutely nothing during seven years of Herbology despite having such a watchful eye on our professor during classes. Perhaps you can bestow a bit of gardening knowledge on all his children that way they have hobbies that don't involve destroying our home when they visit.

Until then, I will miss the smell of the flowers almost as much as I miss you.

Your Husband,

Ominis

p.s. Please do consider my request that you return early. If not for me, then for the well-being of our home.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #my writings

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greenthena · 11 months ago

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Metatron's Tie

**Update: check the reblogs. There's a clear picture that shows the tie pattern as flowers. So, there goes my theory. Whomp whomp. Easy come, easy go, as Freddie says. @archangelween @drconstellation

People, I have been trying to get a good look at the Metatron's ding dang neck tie since September to determine what those little blue symbols are. Because, like everything in the Good Omens universe, I believe it's been put there for a reason. I also believe that God has no idea what she's doing, which is why she hired Neil Gaiman to run things for a few decades.

Despite being a so-called agent of Heaven, the Metatron's costume is coded as demonic, from his dark topcoat to the black stripes on his white shirt. The item I find most fascinating, however, is his tie. And this is probably in large part because I've had so much difficulty seeing the subtle blue pattern upon it and that has made my brain itch and made me hyperfixate. As one does.

I think I may have figured out the design, and it complicates all my Metatron theories, but here we go. The Metatron's tie is black, featuring a repeated small bright blue symbol throughout. I've guessed it could be a star or a planet. A cryptic sigil or maybe something to do with the coffee (I'm not a coffee-theory person, though, for the record.) I don't know what it is (well, maybe I do now, and I promise we'll get there in time...I'm a demon of my word), but I do know that it's important.

All the angels have references to their angelic status concealed within their costumes.

Michael is the watcher. She is the one who, in Saturday Morning Funtime, delivers surveillance photos to Gabriel. To reflect this, Michael wears a gold ring featuring several small pearls that symbolize eyes. She is ever-vigilant (hyper-vigilant, ya might say), and even has a contact in Hell (Dagon) to broaden her scope of observation. The placement of the ring in the pinky is also significant. A good watcher mustn't themselves be observed, so Michael, in her role as observer must slip under the radar. This corresponds to the pinky finger being small and quite literally underhanded, as in at the bottom of the hand.

Uriel's ring is a silver star, worn on her/their index finger, the digit associated with authority. (We call it the index finger because we use it to sort and catalog, creating meaning and order.) Uriel certainly commands authority, both in their overall calm and assured demeanor, and also in their actions. It is she who physically confronts Aziraphale prior to the S1 No-pocalypse, easily inspiring fear in the Principality. As for the symbol of the star, I believe it is a reference to modern Angelography (I might have made up that word, but I think you know what I'm talking about) which usually describes Uriel as a sun, star, or the flame of the Almighty.

Sandalphon's symbology is two-fold: a thick gold pinky ring featuring a pair of circles (kind of looks like a lego brick, to be perfectly fair) and that small gold grill he wears on his front teeth. Both these items are the most elaborate pieces of angelic adornment that we see. Sandalphon's overall aesthetic is much warmer than the other angels', leaning toward caramel and tan rather than dove gray. He's a bit of an odd ball in the host of Archangels and stands out based on his wardrobe choices alone. He's also the only Archangel not to return in S2. I don't want to make too much of this, because there are many in-universe reasons why we may not see Sandalphon again. However, in Judeo-Christian scripture, Sandalphon is closely joined with...wait for it...the Metatron, with apocryphal texts describing him as Enoch's (the Metatron's pre-angelic human name) twin brother. I take this with a hefty spoon of salt, though, since Neil definitely plays loosey-goosey with these dogmas and even the scriptures themselves are a veritable soup of contradiction. (The Bible is not a static or universally canonical text, and Hebrew scriptures, outside the Tanakh are a web of activity and debate as to what is accurate. I'm not here for the arguments today; this is not my Bat Mitzvah.)

Finally, we have Gabriel, the only Archangel who doesn't wear a ring. He does, however, wear a watch. I have two thoughts about the watch. First, clocks are thematically relevant in the Good Omens universe. From the grandfather clock in the bookshop to Crowley's elaborate wristwatch (which he has in both show and book) to the opening sequence of S1, which has far too many clock faces to count. So there's that. But holding time in one's hand (or on one's wrist) is a powerful metaphor that illustrates control and higher power. To possess a clock is to command time and space which are essentially inseparable. As the Supreme Archangel, Gabriel is nearly the top-ranking being in the universe (for a time, at least...see what I did there? pathetic laughter) and his wristwatch demonstrates this point.

If you're still with me, you're doing great. Good job.

We've got to see how important the Archangels' symbology is to their characters, I think, to really understand why the sigils on the Metatron's tie matter. So, finally to the point. Dolphins. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

To move forward, we'll need to call upon my old friend, the Tarot deck. Cards, in general, and Tarot, in particular, play a marked role in the GO universe. The Almighty Herself addresses the viewer in the opening lines of the show, "God does not play dice with the universe; I play an ineffable game of my own devising. For everyone else, it's like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time." As God speaks, cards appear on screen, and some of those are from the Rider Waite Tarot deck. One specific card that caught my eye in this montage is "Judgement."

This card features an angel blasting a trumpet and waking the dead from their graves on the Day of Judgement. The angel on the card is not named, as such. It's usually assumed to be Raphael, as he is the angel who is prophesied to call and raise all souls on this day. However, I've found other references naming the angel as either Gabriel or the Metatron. Now, I don't want to get overly carried away here, but in the context of Good Omens, reading the Judgement card with the Metatron as the angel pictured may actually make a lot of sense, and clarify the sigils on the Metabutt's tie. The Metatron postures himself as the Voice of God--the Mouthpiece of the Almighty. Kinda like a trumpet, yes?

Now look at the flag on the angel's trumpet. That's called St. George's Cross and it's a very prevalent European Christian symbol dating back to the Middle Ages. Like many images in the Tarot, it's a heraldic emblem that has meaning outside the deck, often associated with bravery and military might. It continues to be used in military iconography into the present day. The Judgement that the angel heralds is not peaceful. It's a call to war. The righteous will be gathered to Heaven and the wicked will be destroyed--a repeat of the first Great War in which Satan and the demons were cast into Hell. In the narrative of Good Omens, this war will bring about the end of time, the end of the world, and the beginning of eternity (hope ya'll like The Sound of Music.)

Kids (human and goat, alike) I think those little blue sigils on the Metatron's tie are Saint George's Cross. (I'm so sorry this is so small and hard to see. Now you know my pain.)

In the Final Fifteen, the Metatron speaks briefly about the Second Coming, which is a reference to Saint John of Patmos' prophecies--you might know them as the Book of Revelation. Some Christians interpret Revelation as an upcoming final judgement for humanity. And it seems, based on in-universe exposition, certain characters view these prophecies in a similar light. In the reverse body-swap at the end of S1, Crowley suggests that the averted Apocalypse was not the end of the conflict. "If you ask me," he says, "Both sides are gonna' use this as breathing space before the Big One. [...] For my money, the really Big One is all of us against all of them." And with the Metatron acting as the Mouthpiece of God, that "Big One," that Day of Judgement, if you will, may well be nigh.

I think the Metatron sees himself as the angel who rings out the Final Judgement. He is the Voice of God, after all. But here is a worrying thought. How little he would need to shift perspective to view himself as the Word of God, as well. The Gospel of John opens, "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The Same was in the beginning with God." The Word of God is an epithet for Jesus. The same Jesus whose Second Coming the angel of judgement is meant to announce. So what if the Metatron just plans to consolidate these roles for himself: the heralding angel and the Second Coming rolled into one. He would become Judgement Incarnate, supplanting the Almighty once and for all. And for my money, that sounds just like what a demon would like to do.

***I'm updating because several readers have pointed out that it seems like I'm saying Metatron=Demon because Demon=Bad. Thank you for bringing this to my attention--it makes me a better communicator. I can see where it's coming from. It's not my intention. Consider this meta sort of an extension of my "Metatron is the Murder Hornet" meta, which I'll link with the tags if you're interested.

Just wanted to clarify that I think at its heart, Good Omens is thematically about rejecting the dichotomy of good and evil and embracing the messy gray space that is reality.

When I call Metaboob a demon, it's not because I think demons are evil, it's because I think he's the hornet in the beehive and we've seen that demons need an angelic escort (Crowley and Muriel) to access Heaven.

TL;DR Angels are not the good guys. Demons are not the bad guys. Good Omens is NOT about that at all.

#good omens #the metatron #metatron #good omens 2 #go metas #tarot #archangels #archangel fucking gabriel #archangel gabriel #archangel uriel #archangel michael #archangel sandalphon #good omens costumes #go costumes #youtube #metatron is a demon

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b1rds3ye · 1 year ago

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My Heart Burns For You

Rodolfo is still by your side and ready to fight for Las Almas, but after a near-death encounter he realises he can't stay silent about how he feels for you.

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Canon-Compliant (Straight after Borderline), Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Italicised sentences are characters talking in Spanish

Word Count: 2.3k

For Fall4Rudy by @glitterypirateduck

Prompts: “I can't get you out of my head” (6), “Say it again” (16)

Warning: Graphic descriptions of injuries, talks of death

A/N: In the campaign Rudy almost dies in a fire, bleeding after a gun to the face then the next day he’s just vibing. I get that the military is fast paced but DAMN- (Also YES I GOT TO CONTRIBUTE TO FALL4RUDY I WAS SO SCARED WITH ASSIGNMENTS I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SKDJFALKSDS)

It was the early hours of the new day. The Vaqueros are vigilant all day, all night, even on their own base, meaning you were pacing back and forth on watch duty. You volunteered this time, with your fellow Vaqueros not arguing with a knowing smile. It seems everyone but the sergeant major himself has become aware of how close you had become, or aware of how you swoon whenever he spoke to you, or offered that little extra bit of care. Combined with what was one of the highest stakes missions to date, you couldn’t help the need to see Rodolfo the instant he and Alejandro got back from the Mexican border…

… if they get back.

You tutted at yourself before turning your head back to the horizon, grip tightening on your rifle. They will be back and you will be the first to see them, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Like cowboys you will see them on the horizon, riding in front of the burning glory of the sun. With a successful mission they will bring the new day and reignite the passion and hope that the Vaqueros so desperately need.

There’s a distant but familiar growl of a cargo truck, and you immediately take cover, gun at the ready as you look down its sights as you try and get a visual of the vehicle. Right on cue, you hear the familiar cackle of Alejandro’s voice through your comms.

“Guns down, friendlies returning to base.”

You smile as you loosen your posture, standing back up again. But simmering under your joy is the thought that they’ve returned home a little too early.

“I’m taking it’s a successful mission, Colonel?”

“Sergeant.”

The line is silent for a few moments.

“That’s a negative.”

It is meant to be morning and yet the sky is looking ever darker. The stars do little to illuminate your darkening expression. Your swallow is thicker than the tar that shapes the tattered roads beneath you, scorched after years of neglect under Las Almas’ heat.

“Where’s Rodolfo?”

You try to ask as nonchalantly as possible. To hide the fact you’re demanding an answer like a kid to your direct superior.

“I’m here.”

The tension in your shoulders was relieved at that voice. You would rather see him, rather have him tell you as he stood beside you. Ideally his voice wouldn’t sound strained, fatigue bleeding through the speakers into your own weary mind, painfully reminding you that you’ve essentially pulled an all nighter to catch a glimpse of him before you hit the hay.

“I had to come back to you.”

You chew your lips as the static cuts off. Before you can think any further at Rodolfo’s odd choice of words the truck pulls up to you as you stand by the entrance of the base. You squint even as the full-beam headlights turn off, the glare stubbornly clouding your vision. The slam of a car door has you tilting your head to Alejandro as he exits the truck. His smile is genuine but strained.

He was in the driver’s seat. And if Rudy was around, Alejandro never drove.

The colonel seemed to be reading your mind.

“Rudy is being rather honest right now, I needed to give him some adrenaline.”

On the other side of the truck, Rodolfo’s silhouette eventually comes back into view. His head had lulled forward, footsteps pounding against the sandy grounds of Las Almas. They were determined but not nearly as clean as his usual gait, pebbles audibly grinding against his boots. Only when he emerged from the shadows of the truck did you realise why Alejandro needed to give him a boost.

“Rudy…”

Rodolfo is silent, only marching ever closer to you. His visage is nothing short of horrific, blood both fresh and dry painting a terrifying collage on the upper half of his face. He must have tried to wipe the blood off, finger-sized smears across his countenance that haphazardly spread onto the wrists of his hoodie did little to relieve you.

“Rodolfo? Friend, you must get patched up-” Alejandro muttered after the sergeant major. Upon realising Rodolfo was beelining straight to you, Alejandro only gave you a firm nod with a knowing look. “Sergeant, patch him up.”

But Rodolfo had already reached you, hand held ever so lightly around your bicep like the gentlest but encouraging breeze to follow him into base. You can’t bring yourself to resist, not even trying to slow down his brisk walk and instead look over your shoulder to address Alejandro.

“Roger that, Colonel!”

Alejandro only waves you off dismissively with an amused expression between a smile and a grimace as Rodolfo paced double time into the building with you in tow.

“Rodolfo?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He leaves it at that and the damning baritone that ends his sentence leaves you unable to even dare to say anything else. Instead you can only take him in apprehensively as he leads you down the familiar hallways towards your quarters. When you expected the familiar indoor smell of your second home to wash over, instead it was dominated by the pungent odour of something charred. Bitterly mixed with smoke and gasoline, you dreaded the image conjuring up in your mind as you notice a hole in Rodolfo’s jacket, loose threads singed off in a cruel finish.

When you reach your room, you take the lead, pulling Rodolfo down to sit on your bed. It’s only then does his hand tighten, fingers attempting to clamp around your bicep but it only closes around air. You head straight to your first aid kit, and then to retrieve a towel that you dampen with water. He watches you all the while.

Rodolfo parts his knees, letting you stand between his thighs. With one hand you take his chin, the other giving light dabs across his face. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the towel dirty with red, but Rodolfo doesn’t seem all too bothered with his own injuries, the weight of his head on your hand getting heavier as he gets comfortable.

“What on earth happened so suddenly that you need to tell me now?” You chastise lightly. “I’m sure it can wait tomorrow, you need to rest-”

“No, we failed,” Rodolfo grumbles. His syllables were a little slurred, no doubt to the adrenaline running off but his eyebrows were adorably furrowed as he tried to maintain concentration. “We will head out in the morning to find Hassan, I need-”

“To rest,” you argue. Your ministrations cleaned up the main mask of his face, and now you could get a good look at him without being concerned that he was going to kick the bucket in a few minutes. You give him a frown before you continue to dab at his temples and the blood that got stuck in the roots of his hair, Rodolfo offering the odd hum of contentment all the while. “We can handle it tomorrow, if we’ll be fighting like you said, we’ll need to concentrate-”

“I love you.”

Your hand stilled. You instinctively wanted to argue that he must’ve had too much adrenaline but he is looking as serious and sober as ever.

“You tell me I’ll need to concentrate but I can’t get you out of my head.”

He reached up to take your hand that’s at his temple, despite the thickness of his fingers he nimbly moves them to thread in between yours. You do not doubt that the man standing before you is Rodolfo, but something was different. He was changed. The fire in his eyes held a different light, more sombre, a tinge of desperation. He was distracted, or instead, he was too focused on a singular goal that he disregarded everything else like a moth to a flame. He still wore his dirtied gear upon sheets that you’ll likely have to wash later.

“What happened tonight?” You whisper tentatively. In truth, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“I almost died.”

In any other situation you would have laughed. Of course he almost died, you two almost die every day. It comes with the territory of being a Vaqueros.

But the both of you know that.

“In the cartel safehouse, alone,” Rodolfo murmurs. “I saw Hassan, he talked to me. They set the house aflame but I was concussed, I couldn’t move no matter how much I wanted to.”

He looks away briefly and you offer his hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He leans forward, getting closer to you until his tactical vest clacks against yours.

“Alejandro saved me,” he admits. “But before he did… I thought I was done.”

For a second, Rodolfo is back in the safehouse, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows a cough.

“I swear I was burning in the flames of hell already, it was suffocating. In those moments when I had no choice but to lie and wait, I could only think of one thing. They say that your life flashes before your eyes but that did not happen to me.”

And then it was Rodolfo’s turn to tighten the grip on your hand, expecting you to slip away through his fingers like smoke.

“I could only think about you.”

Rodolfo drags your hands down to his cheek. Pulling his hand away briefly to then manipulate yours to cup his face. He leans into it and you indulge, gently stroking the plushness of his cheek with your thumb. With his face close up to yours, you now notice the faintest stray smears of soot against his skin and you try to wipe them away even as it gets your own hands dirty in the process. His face is flushed, skin warm to the touch like the final embers of a campfire.

“The only regret on my mind - that you never knew how I felt about you. I know the lives we’ve chosen are dangerous, but you were always my respite. I accept it is fair that I will die out on the field as a Vaquero but when I was burning in that safehouse I could only think how it was unfair to you.”

His eyes had slowly closed as he nuzzled deeper into your palm.

“It was unfair to you if I never got to show you my gratitude or repay you. It was unfair if I didn’t get the chance to at least try to give you the comfort you have given me.”

You could barely hear him over your pounding heart. Rodolfo resigns himself, slowly lifting his head from your hand. He doesn’t look particularly sad, only accepting, looking as resolute as ever.

“You don’t have to feel the same, but you deserve to know. Coronel may fight for Las Almas, but I realise now I am fighting for you. Regardless of how you feel, I always will be.”

With no words able to capture how you feel, you can only push forward, pressing your lips against his. Rodolfo was more than happy to accept, his hand already slipping to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. Any closer and there will be teeth clacking and even then it would not feel close enough. Your military gear only feels like a hinderance, as it creates an uncomfortable pressure against your chest that you push through just to get a taste of him. His groan is swallowed up by you and reverberates through your entire being. Pressing up against him, the bitter fumes of toxic flames that surrounded him were distant, managing to instead get the whiff of his cologne; the smell of comfort after quiet nights spent huddled together in base. His other arm cradles the curve of your back, the firmness of his bicep nudging you forward until your abdomen is against his.

And with a single kiss you pour all of the emotion you can. For all the days spent pining helplessly at his natural kindness. For all the times he refuses to let you do a mission alone, to the hushed, panic whispers of reassurance when you’re bleeding out on the field. To let him know he’s already paid in kind if not more. That every time you reload your rifle and step onto cartel territory, ready to sign your life away, that you had been fighting for him all the same.

When you pull away, Rodolfo does not let you move any further than you have to to regain your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, heaving breaths intermingling. His hands have crept up to your neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. No doubt his fingers have accidentally dirtied your face with the soot and dirt from the mission, but you will gladly adorn the markings as a sign that you are his.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly and he instinctively lets out a content sigh.

“Dios mío, please, say it again.”

“I love you, Rodolfo Parra,” you reply and he offers a smile worthy to be put in a museum.

It takes a few testing tugs until Rodolfo allows you to finally part from him, not after you distract him with a quick peck on the lips. You gingerly pick up the towel that had been forgotten on the floor, setting it aside and now opening up the first aid kit beside you.

“Now that I’m your lover I can order you around, hm?” You tease and you giggle with how his smile turns shy upon referring to yourself as his partner. “I’m going to patch you up, we’ll wash up, and then you’re going to rest.”

“How cruel,” he replies fondly. “But I guess whatever mi vida says must go, yes?”

Call of Duty Masterlist Check Out the Rest of Fall4Rudy Here!!

#FALL4RUDY #rudy x reader #rodolfo x reader #call of duty x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #cod x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #/*avery actually writes*/

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timetodecidedjo · 2 months ago

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POOLVERINE NATION

i wrote it. i wrote the Friends fic.

i apologize in advance if it’s not as good as it could be, im a little rusty bc these 2 literally pulled me back into fic writing and i haven’t put anything out in years 🤣 it’s also not beta read so my apologies if it sounds jumbly and grammatically fucked up lmao.

if ya feel like reading some of my other work, you can read more on AO3, username xuaerduobb.

thank you for the motivation and for feeding into my fixation @greatsnakestintin and @avenging-captain ❤️💛

“Good morning!” Dopinder announced as he strolled into the apartment, a bit early to pick up Althea to take her to the grocery store. Logan typically did most of the since he was usually the one making all the meals, but every now and again, Al would want to get out of the apartment and do it herself. Al liked to hit the stores early in the morning before the crowds got to be too much, so Dopinder was instructed to be at the apartment for 7AM. He didn’t mind helping her out, and if anything, he really enjoyed the company.

Logan, just finishing making the three of them breakfast, sat down next to Wade at the kitchen table, his coffee now at an acceptable temperature. Wade was already suited up (sans the mask so he could eat) because he had a debriefing that morning at the Avengers Headquarters and was leaving right after he finished his breakfast. Logan took a sip of his black coffee from the Spice Girls mug he had found in the cupboard just as he felt Wade’s hand rest on his thigh underneath the table.The merc used his fingers to brush up against Logan’s blue flannel pajama bottoms, causing a shiver to roll up his leg. He took a deep breath as he soaked up Wade’s touch, trying his best to not arouse suspicion to the others.

You see, Wade and Logan, up until the last few months or so, had been at each other’s necks, bickering and squabbling at everything and nothing. Eventually, one magical night when they were both out working a small job over a few days in another city, it happened. After a long night of working a stakeout, they retreated back to the crummy motel they were staying in and had the talk. You know, the talk two people have when they’re both deeply in love with each other but won't admit it. It was the talk where you stay up all night just happy to be there to listen to what the other has to say, even if it’s mostly utter nonsense. Truthfully, both men had grown so tired of the constant fighting that was really just flirting in disguise. Logan had been the one to initiate the kiss that would turn into months of secret sex capades all the while they were falling more and more in love with each other. It had been absolutely perfect with no one else butting in on their developing relationship, and let’s face it, the sneaking around was a hell of a lot of fun too. They just wanted to keep it for themselves for a bit while it was still so new, so they couldn’t mess things up just yet.

“Punching the clock early this morning, DP?” Dopinder asked as he sat down on the old tattered couch in the living room. He turned his body to the side so that they could still talk from across the room.

Wade took a big bite of his scrambled eggs and swallowed them down with a sip of coffee made just the way he liked it. Logan always got it right.

“Crime doesn’t take a day off, Dopinder. Someone has to stay vigilant to protect the world against evil. You know, like wicked senators or money hungry Girl Scouts.”

“I truly admire your willingness to stand up for the little guy, Mr. Pool,” Dopinder grinned, stars practically shooting out of his eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes and groaned, looking over at their friend across the room.

“He’s going to a meeting, don’t feed into his bullshit.”

The merc glanced over at Logan and then at the imaginary audience in front of him.

“He’s just jealous because he’s basically my house husband now, but it’s fine. We’ll talk about it later in couple’s counseling, which we both desperately need, but not for our relationship. Mostly because of all the other life altering trauma.”

“Welp. Daddy’s off to work, kitten,” Wade said as he stood up from the table with his mask in his hand. The merc leaned down to plant a big juicy kiss on Logan’s lips, wanting to savor it as much as he could before having to leave for the day. When their eyes met, Logan looked at Wade with so much love and adoration… until both idiots finally realized what had just happened, and boy, did it hit them both like a ton of bricks. As far as everyone else knew, Wade and Logan didn’t kiss and they weren’t romantic with each other. Wade was no stranger to being touchy feely with pretty much everyone, but this wasn’t just being touchy feely and this wasn’t just anyone. This was Logan. This was Wade and Logan.

Wade, making an executive decision, walked around to the other side of the kitchen table and took Al’s chin into his hands, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Have a great time at the supermarket, Althea. Make sure to grab some more French toast sticks. We’re running low.”

“What the fuck! What the hell was that about?!” Al screeched in her chair as she tossed her fork down onto the plate, causing a sharp pang in everyone’s ears.

Wade continued on his kissing rampage and planted a big one right onto Dopinder’s mouth, a total look of shock and horror plastered all over his face.

“Dopinder! Always a pleasure!” The merc chimed and walked away as he pulled his mask over his cancer ridden face. Logan stood up and followed Wade out of the door, keeping his cool as best as he could and trying to play all of this off as if it was nothing but Wade being Wade. He shut the door behind them and smacked his boyfriend on the shoulder.

“I understand why you did what you did and I appreciate it, but did you have to kiss Al? She’s fuckin’ blind, idiot!”

Wade just stood there and stared at his lover for a second, probably the longest he had ever gone without saying anything while he was conscious.

“Do you not remember when she almost caught us a few weeks ago? She hears everything, honey badger. Everything! The walls are paper thin. I had to cover my bases.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, The Wolverine sighed and smacked his hand to his face, knowing full well he was going to have to try to come up with some kind of story where he stabbed Wade in the hallway for kissing him.

“Please come home to me in one piece,” Logan pleaded when he looked up, using his best puppy dog eyes.

With one swift movement, the merc had pulledc his mask off to give Logan one final kiss until he could come home later in the day.

“Always, peanut.”

#deadpool #wade wilson #marvel #poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett #deadclaws #fanfic

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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❝tiny scientist❞

✭ pairing : neyetam x reader x aonung

✭ fandom : avatar the way of water

✭ summary : as a sky person being allowed to study the plant life on pandora is a remarkable feat itself. But somehow making two of the natives of the same planet fall in love with you, now that’s definitely something more than remarkable.

✭ avatar the way of water masterlist

In the lush, vibrant world of Pandora, (Y/N) was an anomaly. To the Na'vi, the native inhabitants of this extraordinary planet, she was a sky person, an outsider from the distant stars who had come to their homeland. Her presence in the thick jungles and towering forests of Pandora was an enigma to the Na'vi, but she had found her place among them, working tirelessly alongside Norman in the scientific laboratory.

The laboratory was situated in the newly established base near the Metkayina clan, a tribe of Na'vi who had graciously allowed (Y/N) and the other humans to set up their research center in their territory. The Metkayina clan had been cautious about outsiders, but their leader, had visited the base to forge a bond of friendship and cooperation.

Word of (Y/N)'s friendship with Kiri and Lo'ak had spread throughout the clan, she was someone the two had apparently befriended back when they were in their own home amongst the Omatikaya clan, and it had piqued the curiosity of Neteyam, Kiri and Lo'ak's elder brother. Neteyam had always been protective of his siblings, and he had heard stories of the sky people's actions on Pandora from his father, stories that weren't always favorable.

One bright morning, as (Y/N) was busy in the lab, she received a visitor. Neteyam had decided to pay her a clandestine visit, just to ensure her intentions were pure. He wanted to make sure she posed no danger to Kiri and Lo'ak, whom he cherished dearly.

Neteyam silently approached the base, using his agility to move through the forest without making a sound. He had almost reached the lab when he heard a rustling behind him. Whipping around, he found himself face to face with Aonung, a member of the Metkayina clan who had been curious about Neteyam's secretive expedition.

"What are you doing, Neteyam?" Aonung whispered, his teal eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Neteyam gestured for Aonung to be quiet and pulled him down behind a thick tangle of Pandoran vines. He spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm spying on the sky person, (Y/N), to make sure she's no threat to my siblings, Kiri and Lo'ak."

Aonung blinked in surprise but nodded in understanding. Despite their initial wariness when first meeting, Neteyam and Aonung had formed a close bond, united by their shared concern for their combined clans. Sure Aonung had been skeptical of the sky people at first, especially since they were now setting up base not that far from his clan and its people, he trusted Neteyam's judgment.

"What are we doing, then?" Aonung whispered back, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"We're watching," Neteyam replied, his eyes fixed on the laboratory's entrance. "We need to make sure she has no ill intentions. If she's truly a friend to my siblings, we'll let her be."

And so, in the heart of Pandora's untamed wilderness, two Na'vi warriors watched and waited, their fates intertwined with the sky person who had come to their world. The future of their clans and the harmony of Pandora itself depended on their vigilance and the bonds of trust they would form with this outsider named (Y/N).

(Y/N) had always possessed a keen sense of intuition, an uncanny ability to detect when eyes lingered upon her, even from within the dense foliage of Pandora's wilderness. That morning, as she worked in the lab, that feeling of being watched had become too persistent to ignore.

Unease settling in, (Y/N) swiftly donned her protective face gear and stepped outside. Her eyes scanned the vibrant surroundings, the alien flora and fauna of this mesmerizing world, searching for any sign of intrusion.

After a moment of squinting hard against the verdant backdrop, she made out a figure. The teal-colored body was unmistakable, and she called out, "Hey, who's there?"

Aonung's heart raced as he exchanged frantic glances with Neteyam, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. Panic etched across his features as he stammered, "Neteyam, she's seen me!"

As the two Na'vi argued in hushed tones about their next move, they failed to notice (Y/N) approaching. Her footsteps were surprisingly light on the forest floor, and before they knew it, she stood before them, her small human frame looking up at their towering Na'vi forms that came to a standing.

With her hands on her hips in a sassy manner, (Y/N) said, "Uh, so it's you two."

Aonung and Neteyam exchanged guilty glances, their towering figures suddenly feeling much smaller under (Y/N)'s piercing gaze. Caught in their covert act, they couldn't help but feel exposed.

"What were you two doing spying on me?" (Y/N) demanded, her tone a mix of irritation and curiosity.

Aonung, still flustered, quickly fabricated a lie. "We were... curious," he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Curious about the sky demon near my clan!”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes at Aonung, her skepticism evident. She tilted her head, giving both Na'vi a discerning look. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she said, "If you think we are sky demons, then wait until I unleash Satan himself."

Confusion swept across the faces of Aonung and Neteyam as (Y/N) turned away, her head held high. With each confident step she took, she left the two Na'vi boys bewildered.

In the days that followed their awkward encounter, Aonung and Neteyam couldn't shake their curiosity about the enigmatic sky person, (Y/N). They found themselves drawn to her laboratory like moths to a flame. At first, they continued to watch her work from a distance, lurking in the shadows of the lab. (Y/N), always vigilant, would occasionally catch a glimpse of their teal and vibrant blue colored forms out of the corner of her eye, and it would irk her.

"Why don't you two just come in if you want to watch?" (Y/N) finally said one day, her voice tinged with exasperation. "It's getting old, sneaking around like that."

Aonung and Neteyam exchanged uncertain glances but eventually gathered the courage to enter her lab. They stood in the background, watching her intently as she conducted her experiments and analyzed Pandoran flora and fauna.

As days turned into weeks, (Y/N) found herself growing accustomed to their presence. In fact, she began to involve them in her work. She'd casually ask them to pass her various tools and materials, and they did so without hesitation, their Na'vi agility making them surprisingly adept at assisting her.

One day, (Y/N) was examining a peculiar Pandoran plant under her microscope. She noticed Aonung's puzzled expression as he tried to make sense of what she was doing.

"What's that thing you're looking through?" Aonung finally asked, pointing at the microscope.

(Y/N) smiled and explained, "It's a microscope. It helps me see tiny things up close, like the cells of this plant. Here, take a look."

She adjusted the microscope and showed Aonung how to peer into it. His eyes widened in amazement as he saw the intricate world that lay hidden within the plant.

Neteyam, not to be outdone, approached (Y/N) as she worked on another project. He watched her manipulate a complex control panel, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), what does this do?" Neteyam inquired, pointing at a particular button.

She paused and then walked him through the function of the control panel, explaining its role in regulating environmental conditions in the lab. Neteyam absorbed the information like a sponge, his fascination with the human technology growing with each passing day.

As time went on, (Y/N) had not only accepted the presence of Aonung and Neteyam in her lab but had also welcomed their help and curiosity. She knew that fostering this mutual understanding could be the key to a harmonious coexistence between the Na'vi and the humans on Pandora. And so, with each passing day, her laboratory became a place of learning, where knowledge was shared freely, and where the bonds between them grew stronger.

One evening, as the Sully family gathered around a communal meal, Neteyam's mother and father exchanged concerned glances. They had noticed a change in their son's behavior lately, a restlessness that had not been there before.

"Neteyam," his father began, his voice carrying a tone of curiosity, "Kiri and Lo'ak have been saying they've spotted you near the humans' lab lately. What have you been up to?"

Neteyam lowered his gaze, feeling a bit uneasy under his parents' scrutiny. He knew they were only looking out for him and his siblings, but he wasn't quite ready to reveal the extent of his involvement with the sky person, (Y/N), and Aonung.

"Well," he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "I've been curious about what the sky people do in the lab. I wanted to make sure they weren't a threat to our new home."

His mother, who had always been more perceptive, narrowed her eyes at him. "Neteyam, we trust your judgment, but we also know that curiosity can lead to trouble. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Neteyam glanced at Aonung, who was seated nearby, and then back at his parents. He knew he couldn't keep his involvement a secret any longer. Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "I've been going into the lab, and Aonung has been coming with me. (Y/N) allows us to watch and even helps us understand their technology."

His father's brows furrowed in concern, and his mother looked worried. They exchanged a few words in their native language before addressing Neteyam again.

"We understand your intentions, Neteyam," his father said, "but you must be cautious. We don't know the true nature of the sky people's intentions, and we must prioritize the safety of our clan."

Neteyam nodded, acknowledging his parents' wisdom. He knew that they were right to be cautious, but he also believed in the potential for understanding and cooperation with the humans.

As the dinner continued, Neteyam couldn't help but wonder about the delicate balance between his loyalty to his clan and his growing friendship with (Y/N) and Aonung. The path he had chosen was not an easy one, but he was determined to find a way to bridge the gap between their two worlds.

Like Neteyam families, Aonung found himself in the same predicament.

Aonung and his family sat down for their evening meal, Aonung's parents couldn't help but notice the restlessness in their son's demeanor. Tsireya, Aonung's younger sister, had been quite vocal about her recent observations, and it had raised their concerns.

Aonung's father, his brow furrowed, looked at his son and began, "Aonung, your sister Tsireya has mentioned something troubling. She claims to have seen you going into the humans' lab with the eldest Sully son. Care to explain?"

Aonung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, acutely aware of the judgmental gazes of his family. He knew he couldn't keep his newfound friendship with (Y/N) and Neteyam's activities in the lab a secret any longer.

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "Yes, Father, Mother, I've been going into the lab with Neteyam. We've been spending time with the sky person, (Y/N). She's not a demon; she's friendly and wants to help us understand their world."

A hushed silence fell over the dinner table as his parents exchanged troubled glances. Aonung's mother spoke next, her voice filled with concern, "Aonung, you know how our clan has always been cautious about outsiders. We must prioritize our safety and the well-being of our people."

Aonung nodded in understanding but couldn't hide the determination in his eyes. "I know, Mother, Father. But we've seen the humans' willingness to cooperate and learn from us. Perhaps we can find common ground and build a bridge between our two worlds."

His father sighed deeply, clearly torn between his son's earnest desires and the age-old traditions of their clan. "Aonung, we trust your judgment, but you must tread carefully. The path you've chosen is a challenging but dangerous one."

Aonung appreciated his parents' understanding, even if it was cautious. He knew that forging a friendship with (Y/N) and aiding Neteyam in understanding the humans' technology was not without its risks, but he believed it was a risk worth taking for the sake of unity and cooperation between their people and the sky people of Pandora.

As a month passed since their initial curiosity led them into (Y/N)'s lab, Aonung and Neteyam found themselves drawn to her in ways they hadn't expected. What began as mere curiosity had morphed into genuine fondness. They couldn't deny that (Y/N) had a unique charm that had captured their attention.

One day, as they joined her in the lab, Aonung mustered the courage to bring up a personal question. "Hey, (Y/N), we've been wondering... back on Earth, did you have a mate or someone special?"

(Y/N) looked up from her work, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Well, on Earth, humans don't really have mates like Na'vi do. We believe in the concept of soulmates, but that's a story for another time," she replied.

Aonung and Neteyam exchanged glances, intrigued by this notion of soulmates. But they didn't dwell on it for long. They had another question on their minds.

"So, did you have a boyfriend or anything like that back on Earth?" Neteyam asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

(Y/N) shook her head. "No, not really. Earth was in crisis, and I was focused on my studies, trying to find a solution to save it. I didn't have time for a romantic relationship."

The two Na'vi exchanged knowing glances, sensing an opportunity to learn more about (Y/N)'s preferences. Emboldened by their growing affection for her, Neteyam ventured further, "Would you ever consider dating a Na'vi man... or, well, someone from another clan?"

(Y/N) paused for a moment, her eyes locking with Neteyam's. "I'm actually bisexual," she admitted, her tone softening. "So, it doesn't have to be a man. What's more important to me is the kind of person they are."

Aonung and Neteyam hung on to her words, eager to hear more. "Well what kind of person are you looking for?" Aonung asked, his heart beating a little faster.

(Y/N) leaned back, her gaze distant as she considered her answer. "I want someone who's brave and kind, someone who would protect me and love me for who I am, flaws and all."

As (Y/N) spoke about her ideal partner, Aonung and Neteyam couldn't help but feel their hearts swell with emotion. They realized, in that moment, that they were both falling in love with this remarkable sky person who had entered their lives. It was a gentle competition of the heart, one that neither of them had anticipated when they first stepped into her lab, but one that had become undeniably real.

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loonfull-sonnetzz · 4 months ago

Text

To Soothe The Ache

Note: I lost motivation for this fic so I decided to just post the WIP since ya'll have been waiting for AGES. Sorry guys :') No beta we die like Frou Frou

༊*·˚Pairing: Alexei Vronsky X Soldier!Transman!Reader

༊*·˚Universe: Anna Karenina (2012)

༊*·˚Summary: You and Vronsky are soldiers and secretly find comfort

༊*·˚Warnings: menstruation, cramps, unsafe binding (do not bind with bandages!! Please!!), historical inaccuracies, mentions of war, probably out of character Vronsky (hadn’t read or watched Anna Karenina sorry :( )

༊*·˚WC: 1k

Divider credit: Florietas

Finally, serenity.

The cavalry unit you had found yourself in had traveled across the Stara Planina, trekking through the jagged peaks and small cliffs while leading the horses, praying to god your foot doesn’t slip on the ice or one of the horses panic from the distant howl of wolves that haunted the vicious winds. All for the sake of fighting off the Ottomans in Serbia. However, the stress was worth it, even as your legs screamed to rest and your eyelids began to go heavy from the restless nights guarding the makeshift camps the unit had made throughout the weeks.

Now your unit had finally left the mountains, finding a decent clearing amongst the soaring pines to rest once again. The wind no longer howls with threats, but whispers along the gently rattled pine needles. Between the spaces of the trees, up high, you could see stars twinkling in the inky night sky, hundreds and thousands of stars gazing down upon you – you could’ve sworn you could see into the eye of the milky way – Something you could never experience in your home city St. Petersburg where the fog and smoke hid the celestials.

You took a deep breath. One good, deep and well-deserved breath. The crisp winter air filling your lungs, held, then exhaled – coming out as white mist that danced in the dark before dissipating.

But soon enough serenity would not last. Sure, it was relieving to be out late, no longer burdened by your comrades’ complaints and sharing company with the stars, but your body protested. Not just with the ache that dully throbbed in your legs or your eyes that you had to fight to keep open, but the pains that shoot from your hips and to your stomach, an unfortunate reminder of your secret. Stress could do so much before there could be no more delays and the time of the month comes crashing in. Or Alexei Vronsky chiding you for wearing your bandages for too long.

Alexei Vronsky, the man that was just as handsome as his frivolity and ambition, became an unlikely friend. It was all an accident, really. Months ago when they were stationed at some headquarters back home in Russia. Soldiers had to share washrooms, but you were vigilant and always went early in the morning or late at night when it came to changing so no one could know you were born a different boy, a boy who didn’t have the same body as the others. But one of those nights Vronsky was out for a while and returned late, exhausted and accidentally stumbling to the washroom to only catch a brief look as you panicked and slammed the door on his face.

Even to this day it was hard to know why you had come out to him in the first place. Perhaps it was his hesitant inquiry, or the guilt for being rude for shutting the door on him. Or perhaps something more, that you both didn’t exactly fit societal norms. Vronsky may be charming, ambitious and brave – bearing the image of the perfect soldier, but he is still a man with his own struggles. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t freak out or prodded you with uncomfortable questions as most other people, especially aristocrats like him, usually did.

Shaking your head and pushing the reminiscing thoughts aside, you briskly make your way back to your tent. Your nimble fingers made way to your buttons in a swift fashion, undoing them until the top of your military uniform started to slide down your shoulders and gooseflesh covered your exposed skin. The cold once again reminding you of it’s limited mercy as it bit your flesh and sent chills down your spine. But hypothermia was probably better than cracking your ribs in the long run.

You were already about to unhook the pins that held the bandages before you heard someone clear their throat and call your name. You whipped your gaze at the intruder, stiffening up and crossing your arms over your chest instinctively before you realized who it was.

“Come here, will you?” Alexei murmured, his voice low and soothing like the distant babble of the creek. He drew you slowly enough that you could have pulled back easily. “You’ve already done so much for us since the beginning of this journey, this is the least I could do.”

You felt your face burn from the sudden praise and care, but you soon felt your shoulders droop and arms fall to your sides. He was right in a way, you could collapse at any point if the cramps or your duty as a soldier didn’t keep you up. So you let him trace the pins, unhooking them and unraveling the bandages. Your gaze flickered from his hands to his face, his brows a little furrowed with compassion and concentration as he buttoned up your uniform – not letting a moment of the wintry air freeze you or the discomfort of having your body vulnerable and exposed go on any further.

He catches your gaze as soon as he finishes, his hands lingering on the last button before one glides over to caress your cheek. His worry became more evident on his visage. “Is there something on your mind?”

The lie on your tongue was silenced by another wave of pain, making you hold your own waist and curling further to yourself. Alexei quickly holds you steady, his sapphire eyes flickering all over you to search for the cause of sudden agony.

“I’m bleeding out,” You said with a slightly self-deprecating chuckle, a little amused by Alexei’s fretting to something natural as menstruation. This only confused your fellow comrade before it seemed to click and he sighs and embraces you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’ll be okay, it’s just cramps,” You said, biting down your tongue to smother a wince. But you didn't make an effort to leave and neither did Alexei, who didn’t look convinced by your lame excuse.

“I know, darling. But I'm not leaving your side to suffer this alone. I just want to make you feel better,” He said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze again. His hands trailing down to hold onto your hips, the warmth soothing the ache. Alexei then dipped his head down, his soft lips pressed against yours before he whispers against your lips. “How can I be of service?”

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