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avoxrising · 5 months

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The Feral One • Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Y/N

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The first thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was the hands of Capital doctors grabbing at you. Three weeks in the arena had left you extremely weak and you had a bad cut on your face but none of that mattered. They were touching you and you didn’t like that.

The second thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was waking up chained to your hospital bed, surrounded by peacekeepers and President Snow.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the old man stated. “I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult with us.”

“Difficult?” you ask with what little voice you have left.

“It seems that you won’t let us treat your wounds, or let anyone get close to you for that matter,” he states. “The poor doctor was just trying to take your temperature when you stabbed him with a scalpel.”

“He was touching me,” you reply.

“Oh my dear we have a long road ahead of us if you are planning on remaining… difficult.”

You hadn’t meant to kill so many people. First it was 6 in the arena, then it was the doctor in the capital, then it was your first client, then it was another capital doctor and a peacekeeper trying to restrain you. By the time you came down from your lapse in sanity, you had been sentenced to house arrest in District 4’s victors village.

“Feral” is what they called you. To everyone outside of your home you were uncontrollable; crazy; even dangerous. To yourself, you were broken; confused; misunderstood. To him, you were everything.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Linessa, the District 4 escort, calls out as she reaps the tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games. Mags moves to volunteer but you quickly shoot her a look and she backs down. She knows you won’t hurt her, in fact, she’s one of the few people who genuinely cares for you, but she knows not to interfere when your mind is made up.

Annie shrinks into Mags’ side as you shuffle past her towards the escort. She’s another poor, misunderstood being like you. The two of you have never been friends for the simple reason that she is absolutely terrified of you and sometimes her meltdowns set you off. Maybe in a different reality you two would be friends, but not in this one.

Peacekeepers follow you to the front of the stage as you drag your shackled feet forward. This is the first time anyone besides the victors has seen you in around 5 years, and they’re getting a good look at what “feral” looks like.

The peacekeepers hold a gun to your back as you stand on the stage, head high. It’s so hot out you’re hoping you’ll sweat enough to slip your hands out of your cuffs. The district center looks the same as the last time you saw it all those years ago.

“Finnick Odair,” Linessa reads out and your head immediately snaps towards her. She lets out a small shriek and the peacekeepers tighten their hold on their guns as Finnick makes his way to the front to stand next to you. Of course, they don’t let him get anywhere near you, but you wouldn’t hurt him. You would burn the whole world to the ground if it meant protecting him.

The peacekeepers allow Mags to join you and Finnick on the train but they don’t let her anywhere near you. Finnick tries to tell them that you’re fine and won’t hurt anyone but they won’t listen.

You’re done trying to advocate for yourself. In fact, it’s useless. You haven’t spoken to anyone besides Finnick in five years. Not since your client…

Anyways, peacekeepers escort you to your room and set up guard in the hall. They’re too scared to be in the room with you, and none of the avoxes will go near you.

You wouldn’t have even been fed if it weren’t for Finnick barging into your room (despite the peacekeepers’ protests) with a plate of food. The peacekeepers made him keep the door open so they could monitor the situation but at least you could eat.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks as you pick at your food. You shrug your shoulders in response. He goes to lay his hand close to yours in comfort, causing one of the peace keepers to pipe up.

“Hey!” he yells, causing you to jump. “Back up Mr. Odair. We’ve been advised not to let anyone get within five feet of it.”

Finnick stands up and moves himself between you and the peacekeepers.

“First of all,” he states. “She is not an ‘it’. She’s a human being like the rest of us. Secondly, she is not a danger to me. She would never hurt me and even if she tried we both know I would win that fight. Scaring her like that is only going to set her off, and I won’t hold her back if she does. The best thing you can do, for everyone’s safety, is treat her like a human being, absolutely do not touch her, and no yelling. She’s not an animal, she’s traumatized.”

“Sir we’ve been ordered to shoot her at the first sign of agression. The capital doctors have advised us that she’s a danger to those around her,” the peacekeeper states.

“The capital doctors haven’t seen her in over five years!” Finnick exclaims. “They don’t know the first thing about her. Now get out and let us eat in peace. Don’t forget I’ve killed people too.”

The peacekeepers, visibly shaken, leave your room and allow the door to close. Finnick sits back down on your bed with you to resume your meal.

Taglist:

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x oc #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #catching fire #the feral one

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dindjarindiaries · 4 months

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The Rising Phoenix - Chapter One

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

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pairing ➵ din djarin x fem!oc rating ➵ mature (18+) tags ➵ enemies to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut, strong language, sexual references word count ➵ 3.847k chapter summary ➵ This year's team of Mandalorian recruits embark on their journey to Kyrbej, their home for the next brutal cycle.

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CHAPTER ONE

I tie off my right boot and stand up, facing the reflection of myself in the long piece of reflective transparisteel. The leather of my training gear groans at the movements. I bite my cheek. That will take some getting used to.

Damn. I look disproportionate as hell with my beskar helmet and absolutely no other armor joining it. That will be another thing I’ll have to get used to.

Not that there will be any mirrors for me to see myself at Kyrbej. The training grounds on the other side of Concordia’s surface are known for their practicality, not any type of luxury. Certainly not anything more than what we already have in our stronghold. If I want to look at myself, I’ll have to bring my own shard of reflective transparisteel.

Given Linessa’s warnings about how the next cycle will go, though, I’m fairly sure I won’t want to look at myself, anyway.

I’m only able to heave one more breath before there’s a rapid knocking at my door. “Rhi! Hurry! You’re barely giving me any time to say goodbye!”

I swallow the sudden knot my twin sister’s words tie in my throat and pick up my rucksack. It’s heavy as hell, but given the fact I’ll be living out of it, I’m surprised it’s not even heavier. I slide my door open and Rowyn’s standing there, her emerald helmet adorned with gold embellishments flashing in my gaze as she lunges forward to wrap her arms tight around me.

The rucksack falls to the floor as I hug her back. For the first time since we were younglings, our paths are diverging. It’s the Way, as Mom has reminded me so many times before, as the Ancestors have called us each to our own unique paths.

“I’ll see you soon.” I say the words to Rowyn with confidence, even if there’s a wide-open chasm of uncertainty in my chest. I’ve been preparing for this for years, ever since I slid this beskar over my head. My hand cups the back of her helmet. “You better have a full suit ready for me when I get back.”

Rowyn manages a short laugh at that. “First of all, I’m not in charge of giving you armor.” She pulls away and holds my own emerald helmet between her hands, though I can see the white accents I added to each curve of the beskar reflected in her visor. “Second of all, I’m gonna need more than a cycle to learn how to make a full fucking suit.”

I laugh with her. Our helmets touch, silence sitting between us, before I step away and hold her hands in mine. “Tell the Armorer to go easy on you." I squeeze her hands. “I know how easily you blister.”

“I could say the very same about you.” Rowyn’s thumb runs over my palm. “But I think I’ll have it easier over here than you will over there.”

I scoff. “Have you met the Armorer?”

Rowyn can’t laugh this time. I don’t need to see her face to identify her concern. After years without seeing a single person’s face, it’s easy to spot emotions in other ways, especially the people I know best. “Just be careful, Rhi.”

“I will.” I give her hands another squeeze. “You’ve seen how well I can kick ass.”

Rowyn’s helmet tilts, her substitution for a smile. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I chuckle and sigh, going in for one last hug. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Row.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rhi.”

“Rhiane,” Mom’s voice calls for me further down the corridor. “It’s time to get going.”

Rowyn and I step away from each other at the same time. I pick up my rucksack and nod at her, taking in the last of my twin sister before I turn and start to walk towards Mom. Rowyn, however, adds one more thing over my shoulder. “And Rhiane!”

I whip my helmet around. Rowyn jogs to get closer to me, lowering her modulated voice so only I can hear.

“Kick Din Djarin’s ass for me.”

I huff at that, as much as the sound of his name alone sets my chest aflame with deeply planted bitterness. “Easy.”

“Rhiane.” Mom’s voice is more stern now. I wince and turn to face her again, her battle-worn emerald suit of armor serving as a warning rather than an inspiration right now. “Let’s go.”

I look at my boots as I follow her out of the part of the stronghold I’ve called home for twenty-two cycles, now. Hopefully, Dad’s waiting outside, or else I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. There’s no way Mom’s going to let me back inside, and I can’t blame her. The last thing I’d want to do is either hold up the whole group of this cycle’s recruits or have to run like hell to catch up to them.

The maze of the stronghold soon gives way to Concordia’s swirling atmosphere, and as I look up, I can see the distant image of Mandalore. The familiar ache of curiosity and nostalgia I have no need for hits at the sight of our people’s homeworld. I wonder if earning my place as a warrior will ever grant me permission to visit our history there. Even Mom and Dad seem to miss it after running a few missions there when I was little.

Speaking of Dad, he stands with the other parents of my fellow recruits, who will see us off as we head to Kyrbej. There are less parents here than there are recruits, even if there aren’t that many of us. I push the unnecessary observation away and focus on the last goodbyes I have to make.

“You’re late, Rhiane,” Dad greets me, his gloved hand tapping the side of his helmet—and no doubt powering down the chrono within his visor.

Mom offers him the answer. “Rowyn.”

Dad nods in understanding. He approaches me and sets a strong hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this day, verd’ika.” I smile to myself at the nickname. I’ve had it ever since I tried to force Rowyn into wrestling matches when we were kids. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

“Thank you.” I nod, maintaining my composure and respect in light of the fellow Mandalorians who surround us.

“The Fighting Corps isn’t ready for you.” Mom speaks up next. She presses her hand against the back of my emerald helmet to make it meet her own. “But you are damn sure ready for it.”

My eyes start to sting, my nose prickling and my throat tied up in a spikey knot. Shit. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, even if my beskar could hide it—but I hadn’t expected my parents to show me anything more than tough-love in front of others. “Thank you.” I force the words through my tightened throat.

“The cycle will be over before you know it.” Dad steps towards me when Mom gives him room to, his helmet also meeting my own. “You’ll be a full-fledged warrior next time we see you.”

“Just a full-fledged recruit, Dad.” I manage to maintain my usual smartass tone even amidst my emotional struggle. Dad huffs and steps away. I look between my parents and lower my helmet in love and respect. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Their comforting voices are a chorus that wrap around me like a sweet embrace as I force myself to turn my back on them. I join the group of recruits and get in formation, falling into the empty space in the two-by-two line that’s been saved for me.

“It’s about time your ass turned up.” The recruit at my side’s tone is full of nothing but amusement as she tilts her purple helmet at me. “I was starting to think you were having second thoughts.”

I shoved my shoulder against hers. “Fuck off, Sahra.” I tilt my helmet back at her. “As if I’d be the one between us to stay behind.”

I could almost feel the hot waves of Sahra’s embarrassment warming my black leathers. “That’s different. Since Thiio’s due for his training next year—.”

“—You’ll be spending two cycles apart, not just one. I know.” I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “But this will be good for you two. You’ve been inseparable ever since they moved his family’s wing closer to yours.”

“And?” Sahra’s curt response is almost a challenge.

“Selfishly, it gives me more alone time with you.” I let her hand go and shrug. “Plus, who knows. Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.” I gesture with my helmet to the path we’re about to take. “There’s gonna be a lot of extra adrenaline we have to take care of out there.”

“Fair point.” Sahra becomes more amused again as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And who exactly do you think you’ll be choosing for that task?”

I shrug again. “I’ll have to wait and see.” I spot a familiar shine diagonally across from my position, about four rows of recruits ahead. “I do know who I won’t be choosing, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” My visor snaps over to Sahra. She dramatically fires my own words back at me. “Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.”

“Fuck no.” I find the silver helmet again, the only one in this entire group that hasn’t been painted, and tighten my jaw. “That doesn’t apply to him.”

“Really, Rhiane?” Sahra is using the tone of voice that makes it hard to tell if she’s being serious or not. “I always thought you two would be a power—.”

I shove my elbow hard enough into her ribs to make her lose her breath for a moment.

“Damn, fine then. Comm received.” Sahra rubs her hand over her ribs. “No more jokes about Djarin.”

The sound of his name causes his silver helmet to turn over his shoulder. I don’t let my visor stray from his, instead challenging him to look away first. My hands curl into fists at my sides and I wish I could swing them in his direction. I’ve already sparred with him enough times to know, though, that I won’t win—but neither will he.

The question now, then, is who’s going to win this staring contest of ours.

“Recruits!” A booming voice announces from the front of the group.

Another draw it is. We look away from each other at the same time, focusing our attention to the black-armored Mandalorian ahead of us. Captain Hosnan has been running the Fighting Corps’ training for cycles, even before more than half our ranks abandoned the Way during the Clone Wars.

“You’ve been training for cycles to see this moment. You’re now mere minutes away from embarking on this journey, a Mandalorian tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

My stomach twists with nerves I’m not used to having. The historical weight of this training isn’t lost on me, especially when I remember who my ancestors are. Settling for anything less than the goal I’ve made for myself in my mind is unacceptable.

“You’ve sworn the Creed. You’ve earned your most valuable piece of armor: your helmets.”

Each one of our helmets is unique in some way, all adorned with special colors and embellishments—except for Din’s. For some reason, it makes my blood boil even more.

“Now, you will go on to earn each piece of your full suit of armor with each challenge you undertake. It won’t be easy, but the generations before you have proven it can be done. I’m the first captain to have no deaths reported at Kyrbej in three-hundred years, so don’t be my first.”

I swallow hard. No pressure.

“But don’t be mistaken. This isn’t because I’m softer than the other captains.” Captain Hosnan crosses his arms over his cuirass. “It’s because I’m tougher, and that toughness yields results. So, if any one of you feels you’re not up for the challenge, do us all a favor and walk away now while you can. As for the rest of you…”

Captain Hosnan lowers his arms to lift his fist to the center of his cuirass, right over the kar’ta.

“Welcome to the Fighting Corps.” He lowers his helmet. “This is the Way.”

We all mirror his gesture, crossing our right arms over our chests and lowering our helmets. “This is the Way.”

The family members beside us are the last to say the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Captain Hosnan turns and begins to walk forward, and our group of recruits follows in obedient formation. I pull the straps of my rucksack higher on my shoulders and give Sahra a look. “Are you ready, Private Auren?”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Voss.”

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As it turns out, the hardest part of our cycle at Kyrbej is fucking walking there.

After endless hours of non-stop travel across this desolate moon we call home, Captain Hosnan has finally allowed us to make camp. We don’t have the supplies to pitch tents, so we settle for various alcoves in the nearby rock structures that have defined Concordia ever since it was settled—or, at least, mined.

My feet are throbbing and my legs nearly give out when I sit down beside Sahra at our makeshift fire, but at least this walk is breaking in my boots. I chew on the ration pack Rowyn helped me acquire from the kitchen of our wing, sliding the material in the gap between the lip of my helmet and my skin. There’s no chance I’m gonna be able to hunt something out here.

The recruits are scattered throughout the alcove in their small friend groups, the ones made long before Kyrbej was even on the horizon. I’m well aware these groups will be drastically different by the time we all complete our training, and not just because of Linessa’s warning. It’s common sense. The shit we’re about to go through this cycle changes people from the inside-out.

“I’ll be right back,” Sahra speaks up into our comfortable silence. She stands and brushes the dirt of the alcove off her leathers. “I’ll let you know if I find a decent corner of privacy for relieving ourselves.”

I snort with amusement and watch her as she strides away. I’m not on my own for long, though, as another person soon comes to take her place. I don’t bother fighting the snarl underneath my helmet or the roll of my eyes behind my visor.

“Voss.” Din’s modulated tone is curt as he stands over me.

“Djarin.” I all but bite his name out.

His arms cross over his chest. His broad chest. Shit, does that tiny detail really matter? “You seem tired.”

I scoff. “What a fucking compliment.” I sit up more and tilt my helmet. “Are you not exhausted from walking for at least six hours straight?” When he starts to reply, I hold up my hand. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve somehow been training for this specific part along with everything else.”

Din tilts his helmet back at me. “You’re catching on.”

Frustration pumps through my veins like hot, molten lava. “Well, what the hell do you want? Or did you just come over here to be an asshole?”

Din doesn’t waver at my hurled insults. “You tell me. Your friend was the one who said my name earlier.”

I narrow my eyes at him and hope he can somehow see their wrath behind my visor, even if it breaks the Creed. “Can’t live with the fact your name’s said in conversations you’re not a part of, Djarin?” I let out an amused huff. “Because I hate to tell you, people are allowed to say your name when you’re not around.”

“I would’ve been content to leave you to it.” Din shifts his weight to one hip. “But you were looking at me, so… naturally, I assumed you had something to say.”

“Nope.” I’m suddenly grateful for the Creed again that keeps my warm, embarrassed face from Din’s line of vision. Ancestors, forgive me. “Consider it a mistake.”

Din’s helmet straightens. “Let me give you some advice.” He gestures with his helmet to the view of Concordia outside the alcove. “There’s no room for mistakes at Kyrbej. Even one could move you down the ranks, and fast. My advice, then?” He drops his arms back to his sides, conveying his severity. “Don’t let it happen again.”

My anger becomes so volatile that I’m relieved I don’t have a metal suit of armor covering me. It would just melt into my skin. “So now you’re giving me orders?” I shake my helmet. “Hell no. And you say that as if I don’t already know.” My anger unties a cruel knot within my throat and unleashes its full wrath. “Unlike you, I have a fucking legacy to maintain.”

Din stiffens, but it only lasts for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but it’s not an unusual action for him. “Good.” He nods at me, having the audacity to remain civil after my harsh bite—and making me feel like the asshole here. “I expect it won’t happen again, then.”

He turns his back before he can see my middle finger extended up at him. I curse under my breath and wrap my arms around myself for more warmth, glancing at the unfinished ration pack on my lap. I’ve lost my appetite, and I could use the rest for breakfast, anyway.

No. I am not letting this man make me eat myself alive because he was the one who approached me in the first place. He’s trying to get to me mentally, since he can’t beat me physically. I won’t let him win.

Sahra returns and sits even closer to my side than she had before. “Damn, what did I miss?” Her visor gives me a once-over. “You’re tenser than a lariat.” She points at my unfinished ration. “And I expected that to be crumbs by now.”

“What do you think happened?” My visor’s glaring in Din’s direction, even though he’s become lost within the fray of recruits. I find his silver helmet amidst a group of other foundling recruits. He’s the biggest of them all.

“You mean, who do I think happened?” Sahra huffs. “It’s not really a question.”

“He was an asshole for coming over here, and then he made me be an asshole back.”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “He ‘made’ you?”

I finally turn to face her. “He wanted to know why you said his name earlier, before we left.”

I hate the way I can practically see Sahra’s purple helmet grow brighter, as if the fire suddenly got more powerful. “Yeah? And what did he have to say about my brilliant joke?”

“Your brilliantly fucking stupid joke? Yeah, he doesn’t know about it.” I huff in indignation. “He just threatened me not to make the ‘mistake’ of using his name without telling him about it again.”

Sahra’s shoulders tense at that. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” I rest even further against the smooth slab of stone supporting me.

“So, how exactly were you an asshole in this context?”

I cringe, squeezing my eyes tight behind my visor in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me.” The only person who knows the Creed better than me is Din himself. The man’s a stickler for the rules and customs of our people. The foundlings are the future.

“Let me guess.” Sahra’s fingers tap over her thigh in unnecessary concentration. I already know she’s going to get it right on the first try. “You made a jab about him being a foundling?”

I palm my helmet with one of my hands. “Why am I such an ass about that sometimes, Sahra?” I shake my head.

“It’s the only leverage you have on him.” Sahra shrugs and pokes at the fire to keep it burning. “He’s not the most open about his life before his rescue, and he’s definitely not the type to tell anyone how he feels about it—or anything else.”

I stare at the fire. “That doesn’t make it right. He just…” I clench my hands into tight fists, “shit, he makes me so damn angry sometimes.”

“It may not be right, but it’s understandable.” Sahra nods at me. “You were predicted to be the top of our cycle from a young fucking age. Then Djarin just comes in, and… well, he’s the only one who can threaten that.”

I exhale deeply and close my eyes, feeling the weight of this day and situation upon me. “I don’t want to think about that day anymore.”

Sahra’s hand gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.” I hear her shuffling around as she leans back next to me. “Get some rest. I have a feeling Hosnan’s gonna have us up and at ‘em as early as possible.”

Sahra’s right. It feels like I’ve been asleep for all of five minutes when the sound of beskar-on-beskar rings throughout the alcove.

The rest of the recruits and I jolt awake, looking to see Captain Hosnan with his gauntlets crossed over each other. “Morning, recruits! You have five minutes to fully put out your fires, pack your rucksacks, and relieve yourselves before we continue on!”

I groan and let my helmet hit the stone behind me for a moment. We’re not even at Kyrbej yet, and I already understand why I’ve trained like hell for this cycle.

But we will be getting to Kyrbej today, and that excitement alone is what gets me moving faster than anything else.

Once we’re all back on our feet and in our two-by-two formation, Captain Hosnan continues on our path to Kyrbej. Sahra’s quick to notice the sudden hop in my step. “What’s got you so excited to walk another six hours straight?”

I shoot her an incredulous look. “Kyrbej.”

“Right.” Sahra’s visor rises to the swirling sky for a moment. “I almost forgot the destination.”

“I’ve only been training my whole life for it.” I smile to myself, experience my first true wave of joy since leaving the stronghold. “Plus, I’ll finally get to see Linessa.”

Sahra’s helmet snaps back towards me. “Oh, shit, that’s right. She was team leader last year.”

“Damn right she was.” I tilt my helmet towards her. “She’s a Vizsla, after all.”

Sahra snorts. “If Paz was my older brother, I’d work my ass off to be team leader, too.” She gives me a knowing look. “But I’m not even gonna try when I know who it’s going to.”

I bite my cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“By the Ancestors, Rhiane, don’t lose your confidence already.” Sahra nudges my arm. “Your jab at Djarin may have been brutal, but it’s true. Even if he could possibly manage to beat you out in skill, when was the last time they made someone who’s not tied to a clan or a house a fucking team leader?”

My jaw remains wired shut. She’s right. The revelation floods relief through me. “Fair point. I’ll give you that.”

I don’t have another option; I have to believe her. Failing to become team leader isn’t an option. I won’t be able to face Dad, Mom, or even Rowyn if I don’t earn the title.

The hours go by surprisingly quickly, either because of the haziness of my exhaustion or because of the verbal games Sahra and I play to keep ourselves entertained. That haze, however, is quickly replaced by shocking clarity as the adrenaline kicks in at the sight on the horizon.

The unmistakable pillars of Kyrbej frame a tight group of Mandalorian warriors, those who will be serving as our officers, leaders, and teachers for the next cycle. I’m already searching for Linessa’s telltale blue helmet, but as much as I love the woman who’s like another sister to me, she’s not the only reason why my heart is racing with excitement.

After cycles and cycles of waiting, I’m finally at Kyrbej. I’m finally facing my long-awaited destiny. Not even my doubts about Djarin or team leader can quell my pure anticipation.

I don’t have to be Force-sensitive to know that I—and Kyrbej itself—won’t ever be the same after this moment.

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series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

#i am SO excited for this one!!!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the rising phoenix #dindjarindiaries

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444names · 1 year

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german, french and persian forenames + quenya names

Afshana Aglie Aichidren Aingas Aiterondë Akhtyan Alandómin Aldarman Aldómë Aliest Aling Almert Almona Amaits Amarans Amarick Amasb Amaston Ancinque Angar Angiver Animeh Annel Annelm Anuled Aragen Arangaz Araucto Arclan Armon Arous Arowsh Arstess Artalan Artar Artars Artië Arvate Atahy Atthi Aucánuen Aurëa Avassetto Avina Axando Azgoly Baheive Bamzeh Beefer Beira Berion Blendiet Brick Brina Brindo Brion Calan Caldeds Calie Cands Carie Caser Caster Cavante Celone Chayon Chelda Chert Cirel Cirion Coameh Coamide Coldë Combeh Cormo Corna Corzo Culimoz Cushe Cánushann Cécir Daltár Darha Deerain Degfrayed Devooss Diand Dortië Dwarasa Dwaron Elaur Eldaine Eldends Eldil Eldooz Eleght Elias Elkidde Elolf Eloro Elory Elvess Emeemo Emenrië Endictule Enval Ererrasb Eruishan Erulaindë Eseen Evendú Eälómë Eären Fahmarkne Faland Fands Farmarsun Faturua Fazyamdan Femir Feria Feriessë Findiave Finer Fingwar Finor Firabe Firim Forander Formin Frastir Fruin Galmo Gemacquë Gentárol Gerionri Gestary Gesturië Ghaden Ghayvanow Ghorbod Ghose Giftar Gireent Gisana Goldan Goldë Golim Graffix Guelin Guited Gélianes Hajid Halie Hanitë Harabarië Hasbeh Heanórion Heatar Hehri Heinwë Helcaled Heles Heluns Hereid Hereyfor Hernë Heron Heyel Hiddle Hider Hilië Hirsille Houza Hrick Hrion Hráva Hríma Hrína Hrónamen Hröandace Hught Hyarmeed Ilinds Ilmas Ilmund Ilwer Incardad Inzoos Isilmangs Isimo Isincie Isindë Isirab Ismangar Istirë Itand Jamil Jeadinga Jeatitë Joshan Jostarine Julan Kabiands Karger Kastia Kemindo Khour Kiary Kinquendo Kokhou Kokon Koommírë Korth Kouth Lacilië Laine Laity Lalies Lalima Lalmo Lalving Laman Lasto Laugus Laulmsh Leavasab Lentárë Lichel Likorsts Linahma Linasa Lincamese Linessa Linus Linóred Loacard Lofiste Loohran Ludwildë Lómeent Lómildalf Lómëan Macir Mahin Mahlaca Mahlar Mairë Majeaurë Mallime Mandë Manoldo Manónat Maredrion Maree Marifer Marjassë Massëanno Maylvadi Mazalëa Miched Millentz Miser Morgissa Moronders Mozad Mundrinë Nachird Nanda Nanule Narmë Nasabin Navalë Navera Nenthan Nessever Nestlan Nicil Nictose Nintlar Niquen Nobing Nolby Noldam Norbolph Nísina Nóreden Ohtir Olord Ondie Ondósar Orofte Outharix Outtar Pancire Pançois Parmenim Paros Pettopeth Philmiry Placil Poodacar Pouionthi Poushil Pranárë Prend Pujmair Quene Quentár Rairsh Ranie Relenisto Rette Rigiz Rinowince Rocécil Rokarma Royad Russë Rédred Régin Rémid Rínaxë Rívin Rómehrak Rómens Rúmed Saberind Sador Sahael Sakid Samshan Santo Sarays Seendon Seyvoises Shabna Shandóme Shanyast Shaph Sharik Shehteron Shent Shiaver Shieghte Shindo Shiranda Shomúrëa Simen Sindo Siran Siree Slambo Slarvandi Slein Sohele Sondiler Sorien Spide Spiellië Spienz Spiry Stara Starsha Stodar Stohínala Struhan Sumbar Suntan Sunto Sylvic Taharóla Tahaurë Taught Taureste Telma Thadoon Thlala Tholdow Timascal Tirie Titimash Toing Tolearrol Tolintë Tophil Tougua Touneme Tumba Tumbiz Turenala Turwer Turélin Twane Tyate Tárins Túried Uinessë Uldailmak Ulinë Ulmanned Unduinë Upred Ustin Uturon Vageste Valflowne Valigh Valissë Vallivina Vaneh Vanturus Vaseentz Viettar Vinessa Vinrily Vinwë Viéval Vorlened Vásabbar Warinqua Wavairall Wighta Willórë Wizarst Yasta Yavent Yelyneh Yáromen Yárëa Zamar Zamene Zercills Zoyari Élaurta Éminested Évari Írildorn Ñollë Ñololl Ólaciel Úmacamber Úmakilan Úmast

#444 names #444names

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rodadecuia · 2 years

Link

#ARQUITETURAEURBANISMO #SEMANAACADÊMICAARQUITETURAEURBANISMOUFFS #SEMANAACADÊMICAUFFSERECHIM #UFFSERECHIM

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ghxstkn1fe · 2 years

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HAHHQHQHQHQ THE VOICE LINESSA

#liveblogging

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that-common-rue · 3 years

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You hear that....

Yeah thats just my bisexuality quaking

#hamilton #hamiltrash #hamiltonmusical #lin manuel miranda #hamiltonmemes #alexanderhamilton #johnlaurens #peggy schuyler #maria reynolds #anthonyramos #in the heights #janthony #jasminecephasjones #linessa #vanessa nadal #in the heights 2021 #in the heights movie

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lin-archive · 5 months

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they're so silly and cute

#lin manuel miranda #linmanuelmiranda #hamilton #hamilton musical #in the heights #vanessa nadal #linessa

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iamnotusnavi · 3 years

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LOOK AT WHERE YOU AREEEE

LOOK AT WHERE YOU STARTED *starts ugly crying*

#linessa #lin manuel miranda #lin miranda #lmm #linnamon roll #lin #lmmpositivity #lin trash #Vanessa nadal #vanessa nadal miranda

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quero-nhanhar · 2 years

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Essa gata faz aniversário hoje!! Parabens @kimililian

#sapatao #lgbt pride #lesbica #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq positivity #linessa #loveislove #liliankimi #vanessalamark #instagram #couples

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whoaiminactivenowwepa · 4 years

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Happy 10th Anniversary to Lin & Vanessa and Lin & Vanessa only 💖💖💖

#lin manuel miranda #vanessa nadal #linessa

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avoxrising · 5 months

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The Feral One • Chapter 3

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I wrote this on my lunch break to squeeze another chapter out for y’all! Enjoy :)

Content Warnings - panic attacks/breakdowns

When the parade is about to start, the peacekeepers march you over to your chariot. They go to lift you onto it but you shriek, causing them to back up and aim their guns at you.

“Woah there,” Finnick states, slowly stepping between you and them. “What have I told you guys about touching her?”

“The tribute needs to be in the chariot,” one of the peacekeepers says.

“Can you uncuff her so she can pull herself up?” Finnick asks.

“No,” the peacekeeper grunts. By this point you are curled into a ball, doing your best to take deep breaths. Tears threaten to spill over and ruin your makeup.

“Hey hey hey,” Finnick says in a calm voice, crouching down to you. “I need to lift you into the chariot. It will be quick.”

You give him a slight nod as you stand up. He gets into the chariot, ensuring you can clearly see his hands the entire time. He’s probably flashed his prep team with all his moving but there’s not much he can do about it with the lack of clothes he’s wearing.

Tensing up, you let him gently lift you into the chariot. He’s careful not to touch you more than necessary. Despite basically living at your place, he always gives you plenty of personal space. However, sometimes you find yourself wishing he would stand the tiniest bit closer to you. He is your safe person, until your brain convinces you that he isn’t.

You nearly fall off the chariot as the horses lurch forward. Finnick grabs your arm to keep you upright and you go to punch him with your cuffed hands, only to remember that it’s just Finnick. You don’t want to hurt him.

“I’m sorry but you’re too pretty to be falling out of a chariot,” he whispers. You nod and do your best to wipe your tears with your hands.

The crowd booms as you enter their view with Finnick. Declarations of love for him are screamed while people shout vile words at you. Roses are thrown his direction, while you get hit with some small rocks and other hard objects. Finnick does his best to shield you but it’s no use.

You can feel him tense as the urge to protect you flairs up, but he can’t; not in front of sponsors. It’s bad enough that he’ll lose most of the sponsors once he allies with you in the arena. You both talked prior and reluctantly agreed that the best move was for him not to be overprotective in front of sponsors.

Another rock is thrown your way, this time hitting your cheek near your scar. That’s your breaking point. You can feel the heat rush to your head as your nails dig into the chariot. Finnick is panicking at this point. There’s no calming you down and you aren’t even halfway through the parade. If you make it back to the stables, he’ll have to sedate you.

You don’t remember the rest of the parade, or nearly attacking Linessa, or Finnick sedating you. What you do remember is the conversation you overhear between Gloss and Katniss as Finnick carries you to the elevator.

“So girl on fire,” Gloss says. “Though of any allies yet? Or are you and lover boy going to try to kill us alone?”

Katniss doesn’t reply but something must have tipped Gloss off to her potential allies.

“Those two?” he laughs. “Fishy and Feral? You’re dumber than I thought. Those two are sadists. They love killing people slowly, and watching the life drain from them. You’d be dead within two hours. Who knows, she might even eat you if she’s hungry. There wouldn’t even be a body left to bring back to your family.”

Finnick tenses up, having overheard their conversation as well. He carries you to the elevator and you fully pass out.

He’s sitting in your room when you wake up. His arms are covered in scratches and he looks exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to.”

He shakes his head and walks over towards your bed.

“It’s ok,” he sighs. “Everyone is fine.”

“Is Mags fine?” you ask in a panic. “He, he said…”

“What did he say?” Finnick tenses.

“If I do anything crazy he’ll kill her, and you,” you sob. “I’m sorry. I can’t control myself.”

Finnick let’s out a long sigh and rubs his temples.

“Everyone is fine,” he states. “You didn’t break down until we were back in the stables. Barely anyone saw.”

“I don’t think I should go to training,” you state. “I’m not in control.”

“The peacekeepers informed me earlier that you aren’t allowed out of your room, for training or for the interviews. They’ve allowed me in here on the condition that I carry sedative on me in case you need it,” he explains.

“Mags?” you ask and he shakes his head. She isn’t allowed to visit. Finnick goes to get more ice for your bruises and you do your best to enjoy the remaining bit of sanity you have left.

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair angst #finnick fluff #the feral one

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