#located yellow perch

[bookofthegear]

Sunflowers! Sunflowers growing underground, a whole apparent field of them, the flowers a good eight inches across, with bright yellow petals and a central orange disk. Looking down, you see empty striped hulls littering the ground. No, the floor. The plants are growing out of more waffle-style indentations, one stalk per depression, with dark earth surrounded by shallow concrete walls.

You are not a biologist, but you spent enough time on Grandma’s cabbage farm to know that this is impossible.

Sunflowers don’t grow in the dark! It’s in the name! And plants that do grow in the dark are pale and spindly and turn weird colors! They’re certainly not dark green and lush, as if they’re growing in a personal sunbeam that just happens to be invisible to anyone else.

Honestly, it makes you a little angry. This place keeps doing just slightly impossible things, and you accepted that. You kept cool. You’re an adventurer. Now it feels like the labyrinth is just flaunting its unreality at you, like it broke some unspoken bargain.

As you stand there, seething for what you know is no good reason, the leaves rustle. You take a step back, worried that there’s something in the dense stand of plants—but no, it’s the sound of wind moving through the field, each plant bowing slightly, the leaves rippling until the breeze reaches you and…

Nothing.

Whatever wind is moving the sunflowers, it’s not happening here, like the light. Or maybe it’s the sunflowers that are somewhere else? You reach out, cautiously, and touch one.

It certainly feels like it’s here. The leaves are big and coarse and slightly rough. And the room smells like there are plants in it, an earthy greenhouse sort of smell. But it’s obvious that in some very real sense, these plants aren’t here. Or aren’t just here.

It’s enough to make your head hurt.

As you watch, still somewhat annoyed, you see movement out of the corner of your eye. A clockwork bee is perched on one of the flowers, busily collecting pollen.

#choose your own adventure #t kingfisher #ursula vernon #book of the gear

[nincompoopydoo]

CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

BETRAYAL — ; PART 8 / 9

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.7k SUMMARY: Awakening in an unfamiliar setting with restored memories, you encounter someone familiar. However, a lingering sense of betrayal clouds the reunion. Meanwhile, Theseus uncovers a concealed message in your letters, hinting at the potential discovery of your location. A/N: Hi everyone! I know I said I was going to put this on permanent hiatus until I was ready to pick it up again, but your girl finished her degree (kinda did badly, but glad it's over!), and now I have ample time to put all my energy of my one brain cell into finishing this series before I fall into depression again lol. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this and thank you for all the love for this series and my baby, Theseus <3 I'm also sorry for ending it with another cliffhanger haha WARNINGS: Angst. Kinda scary shit (I literally scared myself while writing this lol) no beta we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Your environment is an enigma through the lenses of tunnel vision—hues of darkness circle in textures, contrasts of colour that dance along with your darting eyes. Your slow mind tries to keep up with your sight, unravelling the mysteries of your surroundings.

You first notice wood. Brown, battered, dim–a wooden beam trailing along the expanse of plastered white walls, grimed with dirt and age. Through blinkered sight, you catch a glimpse of light, dim orange hues casting fluttering shadows on the wall. You see it now, a flame dancing upon melting wax perched on a rustic candlestick. 

Flame. Fire. Heat.

You remember it all now.

Inferno swept through the foundations of your tiny household, leaving you and the fragility of your lungs gasping for air as you stumbled around for an exit. Yet, things were dense, billowing colours of deep grey and red, blinding your vision. You still feel the parchedness scratching down your throat. 

You remember how your hands clambered to grasp something before falling to your knees. You remember how your environment began to twist and spurn before your very eyes, vivid colours of the blaze swirling.

Then, everything went black.

…

…You…

You remember emerald cobblestones—a mesmerising golden statue.

You remember the warmth of the colour red – the trees in fall, the crackling of a fireplace, a desk with scattered papers across its surface. 

You remember.

Theseus.

Dim blue eyes. Sad. Freckled cheeks. Flushed. Brown hair curled and tumbled in autumnal hues. Trees. Barcham trees that line the sidewalk are carpeted in autumn gold. The tenement. His home. Warm, petite, charming. Gardenias. Tea. Your suitcase. Magic.

Little glimpses of returning memories flood your whirling mind like gushing water. It’s overwhelming. For weeks, you sat with a sense of longing, a missing piece, settled within the depths of your mind. And now, it all traces back to the odd familiarity of the man you met on the bus. Perhaps you recognised the glint in his eye when his eyes met yours or the patterned freckles along his cheeks, tinted in blotches of red from embarrassment.

You remember.

Your elbows immediately shift under you, perched as you rose midway, wondering yet blurry eyes moving along your surroundings. You’re in a room, and it’s not your own. Small, humble, solid walls encircle your surroundings. You have seen places like these during the war. You push yourself up, weight now on your splayed-out palms on what you realise to be a settee. It creaks at your very touch, and every little shift echoes throughout the room.

Its walls are far from pristine, with petite flowers scattered across the yellowed wallpaper with tears at its curling edges, perfectly still yet timeworn.

Your eyes trace the trails of sunlight that glow through the room, diluted by a translucent curtain that hangs before a window, shadows of a tree swaying in the gentle wind.

There’s a bed on the far left of the room, narrow and meticulously made with a quilt reminiscent of autumn hues. You can barely distinguish its patchwork from where you are, and it itches a part of your brain – a sense of familiarity.

Before you can make sense of that feeling, you are overcome with searing pain. Tearing through your head and coursing through the very confinements of your skull as if something was begging to break free from the back of your mind.

Eyes squeezed shut, you cannot help but bring your palms to the sides of your head, the heels of your hands harshly pinned to your temples, yet all you see are flashing lights dancing around in the darkness. 

Then, a flash. White. Blinding.

At that moment, you found yourself transported to an apartment. Yellow-bricked, warm honey-coloured hues of Autumn. Golden, falling leaves. Bright eyes, cheeks tinged with a touch of red. Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun. Like you hold a weight of significance, a tapestry to his existence.

“I know I’ve said this a thousand time before, but I’m sorry. Truly. You don’t deserve to be involved in this.”

You feel yourself smile; tears threaten to slip from your saddened eyes. 

“I would usually say it’s alright, but I don’t think I can say it for everything that has happened. But, thank you.” 

A hand reaches for his, gentle and soft to the touch. You feel his fingers twitch under your hold.

“Truly.”

Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun.

Theseus looks at you…

Theseus…

Suddenly, you find yourself in a narrow bus. You see him blinking wide-eyed at you, his expression paled. You had said – no, asked something. 

“No. I don’t think we do.”

You see it, the pain in his eyes, the sadness in his tone. It clenches your heart, but you don’t know why.

That was the first time he had lied to you.

…

You hear your name.

Distant but frantic. It repeats again and again and again.

A grip on the curve of your shoulders, and you find yourself back in the narrow, unknown room you awoke in moments ago.

But then you see his eyes, his tousled hair. It’s him who calls you.

“Theseus?” you breathed, disbelief flickering in your wide eyes. Without a second thought, your hands reach out to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt as if to ground yourself in the reality of his presence. A counterpoint to the disarray within your mind.  

But as Theseus meets your gaze, a furrow forms on his brow, and a shadow eclipses the warmth in his eyes. The frown, subtle yet profound, settles an uneasiness in you. Your grip weakens.

“We need to go. Now.” His tone is cut-throat, laden with urgency, and you cannot help but jolt at his words. You find your fingers slowly releasing their hold as the weight of his statement settles in the room.

He pulls away and reaches for your elbow, swift and deliberately, that reflects the gravity of the situation. His touch is so firm that it prompts you to stand. Questions hang heavy in the air, but you know you’re in some kind of trouble. Yet, you catch your eyes lingering on the dark look in his own, and you can't help but think he's changed since you last saw him. Since you last remembered him.

Something feels…wrong, but you don’t give yourself a chance to even think about it before you’re being led out the door. 

The narrow corridor stretches ahead, dimly lit, bricked walls with a single lamp casting a glow across the space, revealing its worn walls and your flickering shadows. The air is cool, carrying a faint scent of dampness that permeates the space. All you hear is footsteps reverberating along the narrow passage, echoing against the walls. You realise you are underground and feel your stomach lurch at that thought, making your skin crawl.

“Come on.” Theseus pulls you along, the grip on your elbow never weakening. You can feel the tension emanating from him, the stiffness in his movements, the rigidity of his jaw.

You find yourself staring at the back of Theseus' head, studying how the dim light catches on his hair. He seems so different.

“Where are we going?” You finally ask.

He doesn’t respond.

Theseus continues to pull you down the corridor, and you take the time to scan your surroundings despite the quickened pace. You see the occasional rusty pipes that snake along the ceiling, contributing to a low mechanical hum and the flickering of overhead lights that seem to swing periodically at a light rumble that makes the ground shake for a second or two.

Then, he eventually comes to an abrupt halt, revealing a dead end. Your feet stagger back, trying to stop yourself from bumping into him. You see Theseus' brows furrowed in thought, eyes darting between the walls, searching. His fingers trace the rugged surface and abruptly pause as you catch sight of a carving on a specific brick, nearly invisible.

Theseus taps it, and a warm glow emanates from the wall. The carving becomes illuminated, and the wall seems to dissolve into seemingly ethereal dust. It shines golden under the dim buzzing lights. What once was a wall reveals an entrance to an alleyway; it greets you with a rush of cool air and the sounds of the city.

You step through the entrance after Theseus as he beckons for you to follow hurriedly. Yet, your focus is elsewhere as you close in on the intricate symbol carved into the brick. As you inch nearer, the features sharpen, and a sudden recognition sparks within you.

It's a Gardenia, delicately depicted.

Gardenias always had a particular significance in your life, and it’s all because of your mother. That same Gardenia on your mother’s necklace is an heirloom that spanned many generations. It was important and personal to her, and you don’t know how or why it is doing here.

Flowers for your mother – a bouquet of Gardenias.

The bigger picture materialises as if the puzzle pieces are beginning to click.

Your place in the unfolding mess remains unclear, but it hints that you've anticipated the arrival of this revelation for a long time.

Theseus is calling for you, a slight note of panic in his voice, but you ignore his calls, remaining rooted in place. As you watch the glow that details the symbol disappear, you wonder if Theseus knows everything, even though you swore you never told a soul.

Unless…

You still don’t know how you got your memories back.

As you finally turn to Theseus, there’s a gripping sense of uncertainty. His approach, marked by a frustrated expression, erodes the strong familiarity you once held for this man, a trust built in such a short time. With each step towards you, that trust begins to dissipate.

That vulnerability quickly turns to anger – betrayal.

“What the hell is happening, Theseus?” you question fiercely, pressing him for an explanation. 

Again, Theseus dismisses your insistence and attempts to reach for your arm, but you instinctively step back, maintaining a wary distance. 

“Answer me.” you insist, voice growing louder, eyes boring into his.

His gaze lingers on your face, and you watch his expression harden, jaw tense.

“Look, you’re in deep trouble right now and it’s best we leave right now he’ll come looking for you.”

He.

Not they. Not she.

Not The Restoration Movement. Not Morrigan.

Something is very wrong.

And his eyes. You can’t quite place it, but something about the look in his eyes has shifted. They look so different.

In moments like these, you aren’t sure what to do, but you know to trust your gut. Your mind races at the possibilities of how this could all end, and the only thing you can think is to run.

And so, you run.

—

Theseus believes he has only survived through self-deceit – the deception of his ability to stay grounded and keep his emotions at bay. His heart was never to be trusted, never to give in or give up. Yet, how does one cope when a situation relies on promised perseverance but is tangled amid his emotions he suddenly lacks control of in your presence?

Theseus knows there was something between the two of you, but he will never admit it despite his now aching heart caused by your sudden disappearance, even though you might as well be considered dead to the muggle world. The thought of your death pulls his thoughts to the night he first met you, how an unforgivable curse nearly struck you, how you looked at him, knowing you couldn’t have survived if he hadn’t been there in time. 

Merlin, he hopes you aren’t dead.

No, you’re not. He knows it. You’re relentless. So relentless that death would never want to claim you without a fight. So relentless that you manage to squeeze yourself into his thoughts at every waking hour. Every fibre in him wishes he hadn’t let you slip away that day, wishing he hadn’t abandoned you, betrayed your trust.

He wishes you hadn’t agreed to leave.

To leave him.

Now all alone.

Alone.

Theseus was never certain of his feelings for you when you were ambling within the expanse of the four walls he calls home. Whether affections were simply out of pity or was it his admiration for your entire being, your perfections, blemishes, and everything in between. Yet, at this very moment, he couldn’t be more unequivocally sure that his affections are true because presently, you have consumed all his waking days and nights, leaving a hollowed space perhaps once filled by your presence. The constant worry in his brow made his eyes tired but sleepless due to his fear of the worst for you.

Dread fills his senses, and tears threaten to seep through the cracks of a carefully sculpted, hard-headed man he had spent years practising, performing as a so-called war hero. Theseus never let himself cry, especially over you, not even when you parted with a touch to his cheek. Not even when he set his eyes on you again and you were completely unaware of him. 

Yet, it’s the possibility he has lost you forever that he’ll never see you again. Never.

Theseus breathes a shaky breath, fingers clamped in his trembling hand as he tries to remember what he’s been told to do. To find you. To stop Morrigan. To stop whatever mess he has landed you in.

No, you’re not. You’re not dead. He reminds himself again.

The sun had set moments ago, darkness creeping between the cracks of light, shimmering from the candle alight by his tableside and the flames of the fireplace. Its crackling grounds his very notion of stirring into panic. Theseus finds himself tucked in the same corner of his living room, and his couch now houses a collection of books and particular pieces of evidence of your whereabouts.

He merely fears this has everything to do with Morrigan, the Restoration Movement, your supposed living brother and perhaps your mother – also dead. Theseus gains a strong premonition, a gut feeling that your disappearance is all a part of a larger plan than he had initially expected. Your disappearance may have caused a flurry of commotion amongst the Aurors. Still, the ministry has its sights on the movement rather than your supposed connection as more than just your brother, which Theseus feels strongly about. Yet, with Travers breathing down his neck to arrest Morrigan and her acolytes, Theseus needs solid evidence rather than vague instances and misdirected clues that all seem to lead to spiralling trails.

Frankly, his career is at stake, but he couldn’t care less.

He just wants to see you again.

Theseus heaves, fingers carding through his deep brown locks when his eye catches sight of the only two letters that he found to be related to you in one way or another. He finds himself drawn to it, finding the letter from your brother within his grasp for what seems like the millionth time this month. The same words, again and again, were already engraved in his mind.

When he shifts his elbow, the letter catches the candlelight from behind, and something immediately seizes his attention. Something he hadn’t recognised before now.

Inscribed in the very material of the parchment – the symbol of a Gardenia, its intricate lines glowing against the candlelight, seemingly burning. Theseus props up in his seat, back straightened, shoulders tensed, and eyes wide.

Bloody hell…

He scrambles for the other letter, holding it up against the light, eyes settling on the darkened edges of the page only to discover the very same symbol.

A Gardenia.

How could he have been so blind?

It must have been instinct when he decided that the two letters were puzzle pieces meant to be joined. Theseus would try anything at this point.

Seemingly, luck was finally on his side when he pressed the letters together, above one another – new words formed before his eyes, written with burning lines, every curve of each letter appeared between the gaps of the original text to only form a new paragraph.

Sister,

If you're reading this, I'm likely gone, and you're in trouble. Morrigan and The Restoration Movement hide a darker truth. Their agenda involves our mother and a woman named Miriam Monet. I'm unsure of the details, but Miriam plays a crucial role. Stay safe.

As his eyes shift down the page, his heart nearly stops when his name comes into view.

To Theseus,

If you see this, my sister is in danger. You know more than you think.

TAGLIST (tagging everyone who commented in my last post just because it's been awhile <3):

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@never-let-them-change-your-self

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander oneshot #caught in a crossfire

[cup1dxzs]

Darling little puppet

Wally Darling X Reader

It had been an early Saturday morning, the kind of morning in which the mourning dove could faintly be heard cooing from a tree it chose to perch upon and the morning sun slowly rising to shine it’s light across the land.

You’d decided to lounge around in the living room of your decently sized abode, located in the suburbs but not too far from the city yet not too close, it was just right in your opinion. For now you decided to pick up on a little doodle you had been doing just the night before, the silence of your living space had made you a little bit anxious so you’d settle on grabbing the remote to your Tv and leave a show running as some background noise to help keep you at bay.

Smiling fondly at the show, it somehow made you feel nostalgic and reminiscent of your younger years where your only concern had been getting home in time to watch the newest episode of your favorite show, the good ol’ times as you would put it. Finally breaking gaze from the screen you’d go back to your drawing as well, giggling a little bit as you’d felt similar to the blue haired fellow you saw just a second ago, leaving your current drawing of a blue jay bird unfinished you’d flip the page of the sketchbook and began your new journey of drawing the unnamed puppet.

‘Jeez am I really obsessing over a children’s show? I should get out more often…’ You thought to yourself as you snickered a little bit at your strange antics, maybe you should actually get out more often? But I mean who could even blame you? This life was as cozy as it could get, you were content with how things seemed to be going so far, laying down your pencil you’d look back up at the Tv in hopes to see your muse for the artistic drawing and in your favor there he was!

“Hello neighbor, I’m finally finished up with my painting, do you like it? Isn’t it just the most!” The pompadour adorning puppet spoke as he turned a piece of paper with an Apple drawn onto it, you gave a small grin as you credited yourself for doing such a good drawing despite having little reference as the yellow puppet had barely been on the screen. Finally tuning into the show you grinned at the silliness of the show presented before you, but the more you payed attention to more uneasy you felt, it was a small and slight feeling, only ever happing when that puppets gaze seemed to linger longer than it should’ve, staring right through you, almost as if it could actually see you and was just simply observing you from the inside the Tv.

“I really should get out more…”

———————————————————————————

HELLO EVERYONE!! This is indeed my first fanfic I’ve ever written, pls lmk if I should continue, I’m open to requests but Idk how to open my ask box :( hope y’all enjoyed it!! :D

#wally darling #wally x reader #welcome home #fanfic #should i continue? #pls let me know #constructive critism welcome #pls be nice #i will cry #x reader #reader is a simp #like all of the time #just like me <3 #and everyone else

[lightwise]

Be There - Parts 1 & 2

Note: As I like to do (aka my brain holds me hostage until it is satisfied), I had to fill in a couple of moments that we didn’t get in S3 E4 - A Different Approach. I am approaching Tech and Echo’s absence as each character is aware of it so far—so whether he is dead or simply gone, mentions of Tech are not meant to imply that he is physically present in these scenes. 

Enjoy. 

Read both parts together here on AO3.

SPOILERS for season 3 of TBB ahead.

Part 1: Our mission isn’t over yet. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Wrecker stared unblinking at the yellow transmission light as it lit up for the third time. Hunter had stepped away from the console for a brief minute to rest his eyes. This wasn’t standard procedure. When Echo or Rex or Phee needed to reach them, they usually used their wrist comms or the portable holo. The inbuilt console had been…Tech’s domain. 

“Uh, Hunter…you might wanna see this.”

A gruff sigh came from the pilot’s seat. “See what, Wreck?” 

The last beep finally entered Hunter’s consciousness as he tried to brush off the weariness that threatened to overtake him. So far they were only a third of the way around the sector found in the data from Setron. More time had been lost taking the cadets all the way out to Pabu too (not that he regretted the stop). His mind couldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop thinking through the next place they could look every time a planet turned up empty, but he could feel his ligaments starting to fray at the edges in protest. 

Wrecker would have pointed out that he had been falling apart at more than the edges for awhile now. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until they brought her home. He just needed to keep it together until then. 

“I…I don’t remember what the codes mean but…isn’t that…does this…”

Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get them to focus enough to read the sharp white letters that had appeared on the dashboard. Two innocuous lines, in an old coding sequence that Tech had set up before…he blinked that thought away. 

OM.P53.NMR.2SR. BT.

Plan 53 (all comms silent for a stealth rendezvous). Nearest moon of Ryloth. 2 standard rotations. Be there. 

But it was the first letters in the sequence that caused his heart to stop in his chest. 

“I shall make it so that the first two letters of each of our names signify who is sending the message. They should always be the first letters in the sequence.” A tilt of the head and a push of the goggles up his nose had accompanied Tech giving a very pointed look in Wrecker’s direction. “That should be easier to remember than full code names, I hope.”

OM. Omega. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Nobody outside of the Batch knew this frequency—or code.

“It’s HER.” 

He gripped the edge of the console in a daze. How?? She had escaped? She had somehow found a way to contact them. She…she was alive.

“But…how do we know for sure?” Wrecker’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “After all the luck we’ve been having…what if this is a trap, Hunter?”

The words Hunter had said before their failed mission to Eriadu haunted him now, thrown back in his face like a taunt. He knew Wrecker didn’t mean it that way, though.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I really don’t think so. But either way…we have to try it.” He glanced at the chronometer on the dash and pulled up the coordinates to Ryloth. “Especially this location…only Omega would have picked here, where she met Hera for the first time. She knows it will be off the radar but easy to get to. We can just make it if we get going now.” He had barely swung the pilot’s seat back around before furiously punching in the coordinates. 

The Marauder’s engines picked up from their lull as they launched forward into hyperspace. Wrecker slumped into the seat beside him, staring out the flickering blue around them for a long moment. He had picked up Lula from her perch on Omega’s blanket at some point, and was passing her tenderly back and forth in his hands. 

“I really hope you’re right.”

They cautiously exchanged glances as the shock and adrenaline of the last few minutes wore off. For the first time in a very, very, long time, Hunter felt the faintest flicker of something he could call hope. But he didn’t dare let it burst into full flame. Not yet. 

Wrecker suddenly chuckled and clapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Ya know, we’re a mess. We really should clean up before we get there.” His voice lowered a bit as he added, “no reason making her worry any more than she probably already is at how rough we look.” 

Hunter scowled and pinched his brow. His brother was right. The lack of sleep and hygiene had caught up with them at this point, and they smelled worse than they looked. Omega would be able to see the wear and tear on their armor eventually, but at least they could be presentable to welcome her home. 

“Fine, I’ll go shower,” he huffed, giving Wrecker a strained grin that turned into a groan as he tore his limbs out of the seat. 

The view in the mirror only confirmed his disheveled state, and he groaned again as he tugged the bandana off his forehead and slumped against the fresher wall.

Please, please let this be real. I don’t know if I can bear another false lead.

They had crossed the galaxy five times at this point. He would a hundred more if that’s what it took. They didn’t leave their own behind.

Most of the time. 

His ears began ringing. The unbidden thought that had been slowly poking its way through his subconscious finally breached the surface. What if…what if Omega had been taken to the same facility as Crosshair. What if they had found each other? What if…she wasn’t alone?

Deke’s words had been painfully etching their way deeper and deeper into his heart since the boy had carelessly uttered them.

“At least you’re loyal.” 

If only he knew. Once Hunter had claimed those words proudly. It was the ethos he had lived by. Still wanted to live by. But…he wasn’t sure he deserved that label anymore. Too many mistakes had been made. He had failed too many times. 

Echo had told him once that their unbeatable streak on missions during the war wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And every time Hunter thought he was making the right decision, he ended up proving him right. He wasn’t prepared for the weight of failure. For the ways everything kept slipping through his clenched fists. For watching his brother point a rifle in his face and walk away. For not having the right words to bring him back. For all the ways he had to choose when there was no good choice to be had. For watching his entire world fall away. For picking shattered goggles up off the ground. For the dark and empty gunners mount that had been staring him in the face for five and a half months. 

Silver hair and a toothpick between thin lips suddenly floated in front of his eyes, sneering at him. Every choice you’ve made has been wrong. We’re all lost because of you. And then it shifted, the silver hair morphing into a scarred head and terrified, wide eyes that glistened with tears. Begging, pleading. Why weren’t you weren’t loyal to me?

No, no, no, NO. Hunter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to stop the vortex spinning out of control inside his head. A sob escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. He could never repair any of this. He didn’t know how. 

He sucked in a breath as he felt the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder that couldn’t possibly be there. A clipped voice suddenly echoed through his mind. I have found that repairs, while daunting at first, simply take repeated effort and inclination in order to achieve them. It’s like a puzzle. The pieces are there, you just have to pay attention and take the time to put them back together. Steady hands. No Hunter, try moving it this way. See? I knew you could do it. 

If only he was here. Hunter wiped the traces of tears from his eyes as his hitched breathing slowly evened out. Whatever—whoever was waiting for them on that moon—he would have to face them. Whether it was a waking dream or another nightmare. He had crossed the galaxy five times in as many months. But he still hadn’t been able to outrun the pain. Hadn’t been able to outrun himself.  

It was time to try a different approach.   

Maybe not everything had to be lost. 

-----------

Part 2: You don’t know if they’re still alive.  

“They’ll be there.”

She had cut him off adamantly. The full force of her hope (her naïveté, he had called it just a few hours prior), pushing firmly against his gentle attempt at reason. 

Crosshair knew he wasn’t just trying to prepare Omega for the possibility that Hunter and Wrecker might not be waiting for them. For them? No, they would only be waiting for her. They had stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

No, his words were more an attempt at quelling his own twisted anxiety at the prospect of facing his brothers again. It had been…a year? More? Since he had stayed behind on that blasted platform. It felt like ten lifetimes ago now. So much had changed. He had changed. Or had he? 

 A staccato thud flung them out of hyperspace, the stolen freighter now drifting quietly past the two giant orange moons that guarded Omega’s choice of rendezvous. 

Still standing behind the copilot chair, his trained eye spotted the tiny speck of light coming from the open ramp of the Marauder. So they were alive. Of course. The tiniest twitch spasmed in Crosshair’s chest at the sight. 

That open door was for her, he reminded himself again. Not him. 

The girl stood unmoving as they touched down. Her spine straight, shoulders pulling down and back, and he could see the faintest reflection in the viewport of tears welling up in her eyes. 

The ramp began to lower and she suddenly came to life, arms and legs almost flailing in her haste to reach the ground. Though he could no longer see her face, as she paused at the last step Crosshair could tell that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The weight of taking care of herself, taking care of him, getting them both to safety. 

She had accomplished her mission. 

He had to admit, he was impressed by her. Maybe he was starting to understand a little of how quickly Hunter’s loyalty had transferred to her, how she must have driven them all crazy at first with her bright-eyed optimism and inability to take no for an answer.

She really was the best of them. 

He sighed as her words echoed in his mind—“I’m not giving up, Crosshair! I won’t let you either.” Her stubbornness was certainly the family trait, and perhaps surpassed his own.  

Those words had somehow burrowed into his chest and wouldn’t leave. But they hadn’t shocked him. He expected her to say them to anyone. They fit perfectly within the love and loyalty she showed everyone around her.     

What had shocked him were the ones she said later, after he had tried every tactic he could think of to get her focus off of him and onto her own safety. He had long since accepted what the rest of his accelerated lifespan might be—serving as a test tube and punching bag for the Empire he had once sought glory from. How fitting, really. It was his penance, for everything he had done. Everything he had failed to do. 

Why should he have a chance to live when...he sighed again and pushed away the memories threatening to engulf him. Long brown hair and a beard blurred white with snow. Round, yellow-tinted lenses blinking pointedly in his direction. The remnants of a skull chalked onto the back wall of a bunk—just enough dust left to stain his fingers. 

“None of us belong here.”

The Empire changed people. For the worse. But after all those months of isolation, all his attempts to drive her away, to keep his distance so she would stay safe—he never expected for those wide eyes to practically beam sunlight at him in that force-forsaken, grey haze of a prison. She had seen him, then. Truly seen him for who he was—and still believed in him. In all of them.  

She had tried to give him the same outstretched hand many times before—during their desperate attempts to flee the sinking facilities of Kamino; on the sun-soaked platform after. In that makeshift holding cell after Kaller, where all of this had started. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she had offered it one more time, or that he was finally willing to try and accept it. 

Batcher whined from her corner of the cockpit, tilting her head hesitantly at Crosshair as he remained fixated, unable to move from the viewport. His musings faded as he saw a shift in the light; Wrecker’s large form had suddenly darkened the doorway of the Marauder. 

Crosshair dug his spine into the door frame behind him, waiting. 

He didn’t have Hunter’s hearing, but he didn’t need it. He could imagine just how loud the shout of joy was that Wrecker let out as he ran to meet his little—their little sister. A faint smirk threatened to tilt his lips as the giant of a man lifted Omega high above his head and spun her around, wiping tears unashamedly from his eyes. Crosshair expected nothing less. He was sure there were matching tears streaming down Omega’s face as she clung desperately to her—their brother.

But where was…Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as they caught movement inside the Marauder. Was he truly prepared to see the etched face of his former leader, brother—friend—once again? A now familiar yet terrifyingly unwelcome spasm in his hand told him he was not.  

Hunter emerged from the shadows, stopping before the overhead light could illuminate his face. 

He must have said something, before practically leaping down the Marauder’s ramp as Omega catapulted herself forward again. Crosshair’s eyes softened as he watched his stoic, touch-averse brother cradle the girl in his arms, his eyes closed, his hands shifting over her back as though he would never let her go. 

Could he blame him?

But the atmosphere shifted abruptly as Hunter pulled back, his warm smile and affectionate gaze at Omega turning into a wide-eyed, disbelieving gape as he lifted his eyes toward the freighter behind her. There was no way he could see him through the tint of the cockpit, but his other senses were more than adequate at that distance. Hunter had finally realized that Omega had not escaped alone.

Crosshair felt panic wash over him. His gaze shifted to the pilot’s controls. It would be so easy to take the wheel and disappear, leave them all behind once again. Omega was safe. That was all that mattered, right? He could ditch the ship and find work on some backwater planet, do his best to keep off the Empire’s radar.

Batcher slowly shook herself and stood up from where she had been napping the last few hours, her eyes never leaving his. His lips tightened into a thin line as they stared each other down.  

He finally let out a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and crouching down until he could rest his hand on the curve of her head. 

“I know, I know.”

She growled a little and then licked his hand, pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave in return. 

“I’m done running. Promise.” 

He achingly stood back to his full height and turned toward the back of the ship. He could almost feel Hunter’s shocked gaze still on him. Whatever message Omega had sent them, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to walk down that ramp after her. After all the wrong choices—how could this one possibly go any better?

The tremor took over his hand again. But he suddenly, faintly, felt the pressure of a familiar, slender hand on his shoulder. And another, firmer grip cradling his trembling fingers, easing the shattered nerves. A pulse he thought he would never hear again thrummed next to his own for the briefest of seconds. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

It was time to try living again. 

Divider by the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ✨

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch fanfiction #fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #a different approach #some light ramblings #somelightramblings

[mara-tevith-solo]

Could u write a recom lyle x curvy reader 18+ plz

This is the first time I've done a request, and I thank you for the opportunity! I hope you enjoy it.

I wasn't able to keep it short, my brain just sort of took the idea and bolted with it. That being said, I'm willing to continue it if people are interested in it.

This is very much 18+ so minors GTFO

Recom Lyle Wainfleet x Na'vi/Avatar curvy reader Established-ish relationship

Warnings: Angst, torture, smut, filthy language, threats of involuntary kuru removal, Quaritch is his own warning even if he's not the pairing, some fluff

Words: 8.3k+ it turned into a doozy

You'd always enjoyed the morning, the birds singing beautiful songs as the forest began waking to the warmth of sunrise. It was those little moments of blissful peace that helped you after the war, helped to heal the hurt that had been left behind. You breathed the dewy air deeply as some of the first rays of sunlight caressed your face. "Mom!" A voice called, breaking the peace, though it was welcomed. 

You turned your soft smile onto the newcomer "Morning, Spider." You hummed the words, a bright warmth filling your chest at the sight of the boy. "Are you ready for the hunt, my son?" Your smile became wide as he nodded vigorously.

Without wasting anymore time or words, you whistled for your Ikran, the great beast roaring its own morning greeting as it came to rest on the platform the both of you stood on, large wings beating at the air until she felt comfortable in her perch. She was a gorgeous beast, a sandy yellow that reminded you of the Sahara at sunrise, crisscrossed with intricate striping that was a burgundy purple instead of black, her chin crest, tail fan, and the very tips of her kuru were a bright, vibrant red. She preened under your affectionate smile, cooing as you rubbed her forehead. She purred as you made tsaheylu, leaping up on her back before reaching a hand for Spider. She nuzzled his head as he passed, watching as he took your hand and climbed up onto the saddle, grabbing onto the handle you'd made just for him. With a quick chirp from you, she was leaping off the woven platform, freefalling towards the forest floor for mere moments before her wings snapped open, jerking the three of you into leveling out before she dug her powerful wings into the air, purchasing speed and exhilaration with minimal effort. 

Spider whooped loudly as she dove again, following the path of a waterfall, the spray barely getting you both wet before she was leveling out again. She enjoyed these moments as much as you did, finding peace in the currents of the wind much like you did in the sun. She continued to fly until reaching the desired location; a large tree that, while not nearly as big, was reminiscent of Hometree. "So, what exactly are we hunting?" Spider asked as you both dismounted Issa, surveying his surroundings as he spoke, bow already in hand and ready. 

"Yerik," You answered as you pulled your own bow off your shoulders, checking the string's integrity before patting Issa's muzzle with wordless praise. "We'll need to be quick and quiet, scouts say that RDA activity has ramped up as a whole in the forest." You both shared a frown as Issa left the branch you were standing on, not leaving with her usual roar, as though she was taking being quiet to heart. "Let's focus on getting down for now, then we can worry about any unwelcomed company." You ordered gently, taking his mind off the possibilities and back to the situation at hand. He didn't argue as you both made your way inside the tree's trunk, leaping from inner branch to inner branch, spiraling ever downwards until it reached the forest floor. As soon as your feet met the rich dirt he was looking to you for instruction, for advice. You nodded to him with a patient smile, resolved to have him lead the hunt, to track down his prey. 

The boy was like a bloodhound, his nose practically to the trail as you followed behind him at a crouch, ears swiveling for danger, always ready to help or defend. Deep in the thick foliage a small herd of Yerik grazed, grunting and chirping between each other as the male kept his eyes out for any danger. Though he never saw either of you. Right as Spider began lining up a shot, the air in the forest changed, charged with danger, the air filled with an unfamiliar scent that bore both the scent of the Na'vi, and the sterility of a lab. Your hackles raised as your widened eyes began looking for anything wrong, your ears moving and twitching at the smallest of sounds. Even the Yerik were disturbed, the male sounding a warning before the whole herd was gracefully prancing deep into the low foliage. "Mom, what's wrong?" Spider asked as he finally began picking up the change. 

"I don't know." You murmured as you lowered further, very nearly straddling the ground with the depth of your crouch. Bootsteps could be heard as the birds went silent, leaves catching on bulky clothing like alarm sirens, loud breathing from untrained lungs "Spider, hide. Get back to Issa." You ordered firmly, your tone leaving him no room to argue. 

You could practically feel his brow furrowed as he stared at you indignantly "What about you?" He asked in a whisper, not daring to be any sort of loud "you're coming too right?" You looked back at him, at the worry plain in his eyes. 

"I'll be right behind you," You promised, though you weren't entirely sure it was the truth "Just call for Issa and get on her back. She'll know what to do." You instructed, though it was a well rehearsed song and dance by now, having spent months drilling both Issa and Spider, teaching the both of them how to communicate without the use of a kuru. He nodded with a gulp, but was slow to retreat into the foliage, looking between you and the coming danger with wide, uncertain eyes. "Go, Spider. Run!" You ordered in a soft whisper, tone not matching the words, but you could hear the incoming danger as plain as day just ahead. With a heavy swallow he nodded, finally moving with haste, leaving you alone to survey and deal with the threat. 

You slid under better cover, a thick clump of ferns next to a large tree providing decent enough cover as you waited, ears low against your head as though they wanted to be stealthy as well. You didn't have to wait long, they came marching from the underbrush in a pretty single file line, though they weren't marching. They all had guns of various kinds in hand, all of them alert and listening to their surroundings. They all looked Na'vi, making your eyes widen with shock and your blood freeze, all of them looked like they could be part of the People. If it wasn't for the fatigues, you would have thought they were regular Avatars. "Are you sure you heard voices?" The one in the lead asked the woman next to him, his face drawn into a gentle scowl as he glanced down at her. His voice though, it made shivers run up and down your spine, your stomach twisting painfully, begging to release its contents. Colonel Miles Quaritch was supposed to be dead... but dead he was not. Obviously. 

Fear sprang anew in your chest, your eyes locked on his accursed figure, your ears ringing so badly that you almost missed the woman's next words. Almost "The tracks lead down a bit more." They were tracking you and Spider, and you'd been none the wiser! If they were that capable at tracking, it was only a matter of time before they found you, found Spider. Fear and anxiety began playing unpleasant scenarios in your head, what they'd do to him for any little scrap of information. 

The sudden rush of anger pressed your ears tight to your scalp, you teeth flashing to the ferns as you decided that wasn't going to happen, not while you drew breath. You didn't hesitate as you popped up, drawing an arrow before quickly releasing it, not giving the Avatars a chance to be alarmed. "NA'VI!" One of them yelled as another fell with a dull thud, the arrow buried in his chest before another arrow was flying to find a home in someone else. Bullets flew as you practically danced and leapt, staying just one step ahead of the RDA Avatars, using the landscape to your advantage. 

All too soon you were out of arrows, having left your hip quiver at home. What use was a quiver of arrows while hunting? It was noisy and cumbersome. You pulled your knife with a snarl, the black stone blade gleaming wickedly at the promise of blood before you were pouncing on your prey. He barely had time to react, letting out a sharp "Oof!" As you both collided, his rifle going flying from his hand before he collided with the ground. He was wheezing as he grabbed your left arm, your right up and poised to sink the knife into his heart, his other hand up in a preemptive attempt to catch your strike. Something nagged at the back of your mind as you snarled angrily down at him, something familiar about him that both set you at ease and made pain thunder through your chest. You didn't have time to ponder it, not in the middle of a fight, so you brushed it aside as you brought the knife down. You didn't care it he tried to stop fate, you'd still kill him. But the man had other plans, flipping you both before your strike could land, pinning you to the forest floor as his hand clamped around your right wrist hard enough to hurt, a gloating little smirk on his stupid face as you snarled and struggled under him. The position he had you in didn't help matters either, the large male nestled between your legs like he was made to be there. His smirk morphed to shock after a few moments, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated as some sort of realization passed through him "Y/n...?" He asked softly, his voice... and the way he said your name... bringing you back to those short days before the war. 

You blinked up at him, that nagging growing stronger as you panted, chest heaving so hard it was almost like it was reaching for his "Lyle?" You didn't want to believe it was really him, that old pain resurfacing from behind your ribs at his dopey little smile as you said his name, just like it used to when... You shook the thoughts from your mind, having purposely not dwelt on the man in sixteen years for a reason "Heard you were dead." You frowned, turning your head so that you no longer had to look at him. You didn't owe him your full attention, you didn't owe him a damn thing after what he did. 

You could feel his own frown, his eyes boring into the side of your head like he didn't know why you'd iced him so quickly. He didn't get a chance to question you though, the remaining members of his squad reminding the both of you of their presence "Lyle, care to explain what's happening?" Quaritch asked in the same old overly proud way that he used to. It was sad to see some things never change. 

Lyle looked back down at you, still frowning as he held you in the uncomfortable position "Sir, this is my wife, Y/n. She's an Avatar driver like Augustine." 

"You don't get to say that name!" You snarled up at him, voice suddenly ragged with the echoes of pain and anger, your teeth snapping in his face. You began struggling under him again, trying to get your knife hand free to stab the asshole like you should have sixteen years ago. Your struggling made him grunt with effort, his grip on your wrists unwavering , even as you locked your legs around his lower ribs and began squeezing. 

He gasped raggedly for breath as his grip released your left wrist, his hand trying to pry your legs loose as he struggled to breath properly. You might not have looked like the typical Na'vi woman in shape, but that didn't mean you were any less strong, any less able. Your thighs were a matter of pride to you, strong enough to crush skulls, or keep you on the bare back of a spooked Pali with little difficulty. You tried to pry his remaining hand off your wrist as he struggled against you, not able to turn enough to just grab the knife. But the struggle was short lived, others helping Lyle get free from your clutches, though it took two Avatars per leg to release him, one standing on your right arm so that you couldn't get your knife free. You hissed in anger as someone pulled his gasping form away, the aggressive sound coming from deep in your belly and promising bloodshed and pain to anyone who was stupid enough to get close enough to your teeth. That didn't stop the four from restraining you, managing to manhandle you onto your stomach as they painfully twisted your arms behind your back, forcing your hand to release the knife before they cuffed you once below the elbows and again at your wrists. "She sure missed you." Quaritch teased Lyle with a chuckle, moving until he was crouched near your head, just shaking his head with amusement as you hissed again, though the sound wasn't as strong as the first, nor as long and deep. 

"I'd say she's gone pretty native, don't you, Wainfleet?" A different woman laughed mockingly before bubblegum popped. You could barely see her from the corner of your vision, the colorful tattoos on her arms setting her out from every single other Avatar around her, as well as her being the only other female. You'd killed the other one with an arrow to the head. 

"Always has been wild," Lyle chuckled breathlessly, though you could hear the hurt tinting his voice, as though he didn't understand why you were acting that way "'Only a strong woman could keep you in check' is what my Mama used to say." He gloated as he absently rubbing at his aching ribs, watching you as you flattened your ears at him. You wanted to throw how ashamed his mother would be at him, but refrained, not wanting to drag the poor old woman's memory into the tense moment. You'd loved her like your own mother, learned everything that she had to offer about quilting and cooking and gardening, had helped her as much as you could between classes, moving in to take care of her even more whenever Lyle was on deployment. She'd passed away from cancer at only seventy-three, leaving broken hearts behind her. You couldn't have asked for a better Mother In Law.  

"Pack her up," Quaritch ordered, looking down his nose at you before standing "we'll take her back to base for questioning. Ain't no way she doesn't have the information we need." The two that grabbed and hoisted you to your feet were unkind, their fingers digging painfully into your biceps as they forced you to walk between them. The trip to their Samsons had been uneventful, no surprises, fauna leaving you all alone, even a hungry pack of Viperwolves were uninterested. You didn't say anything to your captors, not even Lyle when he tried asking about what had happened over the past years. You knew that he didn't understand why you were rejecting him, why you weren't how he expected, but you couldn't find the words, nor the will, to spell it all out for him. "Keep an eye on your blushing bride." Quaritch ordered Lyle before leaving to the other Samson, Lyle nodding silently before helping you inside gently. His touch still gave you goosebumps as you sat down in the middle seat, cursing in your head all the while as he pressed in against you. Another Avatar pressed into your other side, the woman from before catching your eyes and smiling mockingly as she popped her bubblegum again. The entire flight to their base you were uncomfortable, the position and the bindings making you fingers cold and numb, though you didn't dare complain, not wanting to be seen as weak by the enemy. Though that nagging voice in the back of your mind assured you that Lyle wouldn't think you were weak, even as he adjusted the cuffs. 

The choppers weren't even fully landed when you were being pulled from them, your head being forced low as multiple sets of hands restrained you, ensuring that you didn't just take off. Not that you were going to, but it was flattering that they thought you would. Inside the main building of the skeletal base you were taken to a medical room, the cuffs below your elbows taken off, allowing you to relax as you were pushed down to sit on a gurney "Y/n..." Lyle broke the silence as he leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with a tight frown. You couldn't help but look at him, the musculature of his arms doing things for you, sending bolts of desire through your core as you imagined them around you, remembered the feel of his hands on your skin. You shook the fantasy away before it consumed you, frowning down at the floor as your shoulders curled in just enough. "Baby, please talk to me." He sighed tiredly, his head hanging for a moment before he pushed off the wall and closed some of the distance slowly. 

"What is there to talk about?" You asked in a monotone, not looking up at the man, though you could still imagine the displeased expression on his face as he sighed again. 

"Tell me what happened, tell me why you can't even look at me!" He ordered, his voice raising in pitch but not volume, like he was being careful to not be overheard by his squad. Your eyes did finally meet his, acknowledged the pain and the glimmer of hope in them. 

"What do you remember?" You asked softly, your fingers becoming like static as they rested at the base of your tail, playing with the leather that wrapped around it. 

He frowned as he took a human sized seat and rolled it in front of you, straddling it in such a way that showed off his thighs. 'Oh Eywa help me resist temptation' You couldn't help but silently pray, realizing more and more that you were still very much physically attracted to the Marine turned Avatar driver. "I remember you asking me to leave the RDA, and me telling you that I couldn't do that. You stormed off before we uploaded our memories onto Soul Drives." 

You frowned at how incomplete his accounting was, at everything that he had missed in that conversation, and the one that had sealed the fate of your marriage, your shoulders sagging with the realization that you were going to have to fill in those gaps for him. "I told you I'd leave you if you didn't stop being such a godless prick to everything Pandoran, that I couldn't, in good conscience, be with someone intent on being my enemy." He blinked owlishly at you, silent in the face of the news "Later, at the Battle For The Tree of Souls, we met on the battlefield, I tried to sway you, one last time. You shot me point blank and left me to die." You gestured with your head to the silvery scar just below your collarbone on the left side, too high to injure your heart, but still high enough to potentially make you bleed out if you hadn't received medical attention when you did. 

His breathing sped up as he slowly stood from his seat, wide eyes locked on the scar. You didn't say a word as he closed the distance as though the wound suddenly had gravity. His touch was gentle, ghosting a fingertip over the raised flesh as he continued to breath heavily "I'm sorry," His voice was a choked croak as it passed his lips, his eyes not meeting yours as watched him "I'm so sorry." He continued, heavy breaths steadily becoming hyperventilation as he continued to touch and stare. "Baby please forgive me, please!" He began begging, surprising you "I would never... will never... please..." He took a stumbling step back, his hand dropping to his side as his eyes finally met yours, filled with the horror knowledge brought. 

Your heart sank, the change in behavior unexpected. He'd never been one to beg for anything, always opting to make you be the one to beg, especially in the bedroom. "It doesn't matter anymore, Lyle." You found yourself saying tiredly, like the weight of the universe had settled itself on your shoulders. "That was sixteen years ago, and you died. We're both currently different people in more ways than one." 

His brows furrowed deeply, pinching the top of his wide nose, his ears tilting downwards as his tail flicked with discontent "I'll never hurt you." He vowed, his tone reminiscent of your wedding day. You'd never heard someone say a simple sentence with such conviction, and he'd fulfilled it almost in entirety. 

You couldn't help the bitter little laugh that peeled itself from your throat, shaking your head slightly in disbelief before you were pinning him in place with a sad gaze "You can't promise that, Lyle." You reminded him "We're on opposing sides of this shit show, and you can't tell me you'll defy orders for me." He looked away, ears and tail falling as though he knew, deep down, that you were right. 

Neither of you said anything else as you waited for something, anything to happen. You shouldn't have been so eager. Quaritch strutted in like he owned the world, a smug little grin pulling at a corner of his mouth "You're relieved, Wainfleet. Go get some rack." He ordered the other man as though he was speaking to a near equal, like he wasn't top dogshit. Lyle was hesitant to leave you with him, knowing what he was going to do, but he nodded and left you there, proving you right. "Now," Quaritch's voice slid over you like primordial ick as soon as the door had slid shut behind Lyle, the smile on his face saccharine sweet and full of dark promise "I'm gonna ask you some questions, and I'd like for you to answer them honestly. Normally, we'd just put you in The Chair, but we need your human body for that. So, if you'd be so kind to tell me where it is so we can go get it, I'd be much obliged." 

You scoffed up at the man, shaking your head at his straight to the point tactic "It's buried 'bout ten feet deep in the forest like all the other dead bodies. You might find Jake's too." 

"So Jake's dead. Then who's leadin' the insurgence?" He asked, brow furrowed with confusion. 

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes "Jake is," He opened his mouth to argue with you, but you just kept talking, not letting him get a word in "Eywa transferred us both from our human bodies and into our Avatar bodies. We became fully integrated members of society. Guess you'll have to do things the old fashioned way." You were deliberately smug to his face, hiding the fact that you were unsure and almost afraid of the pain, the torture. But not even your tail betrayed your anxiety to the man. 

He watched you for a moment, trying to get a read of your mental state, of how easy it would be to break you. He was going to be in for a rude awakening, whichever path he took. "Alright," He nodded after a moment, sitting in the chair Lyle had previously been in, straddling it as though he was trying to physically intimidate you. While he was the tallest, and most broad Na'vi bodied person you'd ever met, you knew you stood a decent chance against him. His strength and skill was given, yours was hard won. "Tell me where your little base is, and I'll let ya walk free, no harm, no foul, you'll be flown into the forest and you can go keep playing pretend." He smiled as though he was offering you a good deal, like he wasn't insulting an entire way of life, or your intelligence. 

You hummed as though you were in thought, cocking your head to the side slightly since you couldn't tap your chin "Or, I could tell you where to stick that pistol of yours, and how far." You smiled innocently down at him, blinking as though you hadn't just told him to go fuck himself. 

He frowned deeply and stood, eyes hard and focused on you as he began to slowly pace around the gurney you were still sat on "Now, Mrs. Wainfleet, we can either do this politely, or I'm gonna have to physically take every little scrap of intel from you in every way I can." His eyes flashed dangerously as he settled you with a bone chilling smile as he passed by in front of you. 

You sighed as though he'd already intimidated you, like he'd won "Ikran live in the Halleluiah Mountains in places that are called Rookeries. They mate once a planetary year with the same--" Your educational speech was cut short by a large hand snatching your kuru and jerking it hard, pulling you until your head and shoulders were tightly pressed against his chest as he snarled down at you. You couldn't stop the loud yelp that left you, hands gripping eachother tightly since you couldn't grab his to stop him. Tears of pain sprang to your eyes, an involuntary reaction, but one that might have worked to your favor if you could play the damsel card well enough to fool him. 

His free hand clamped around the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to slow blood flow and make you lightheaded, coughing around your tongue as you fought for every ounce of air you could get into your lungs "I'll be nice, once." He warned with slow words as he leaned down, his voice ringing through your ears with an odd clarity despite the situation. "Then I won't." He promised before pushing you forward and off of him, completely letting go as he moved to your front, leaving you to cough and splutter as breath returned to you. His hands planted on either side of your hips as he loomed into your space, forcing you to lean back as far as you could manage, finally able to make use of your hands as you used them as a prop. "Where's your base?" He barked with no real volume, just a lot of intensity to his tone. 

"The same mate for life. Seeing as they're monogamous, they only produce one to three--" You began again where he had last cut you off. His fist interrupted you, crashing into your cheek with a blinding crack that sent you reeling, nearly tumbling off the gurney if he hadn't hauled you back upright by your kuru. You couldn't stop the scream of pain as all your body weight pulled against the fragile appendage, reaching as far back as you could and grabbing ahold of one of his thighs and using it to pull yourself up, easing the strain as much as possible. 

"Where's the base?!" He yelled, wrapping the kuru around his fist twice and gripping it as tightly as possible, spots dancing in your vision as you curled back as much as you could in a bid to ease the pain. 

"Eggs per season! They are devoted parents, so usually, all young--"

"That's it!" He snarled pulling his knife from his back and holding it where you could see it, the fluorescents winking off of the well polished blade almost beautifully. 

You were going to accept your fate, looking up at him as he snarled menacingly down at you, knife inching ever closer to your kuru. You were going to accept it without a peep, resolved to not give him the satisfaction "Colonel!" Broke the atmosphere, pulling both of you away from each other and to the newcomer. 

You turned your head as much as you dared, eyes wide at the sight of Lyle, closing the distance and panting as though he'd just ran a marathon to stop you from getting hurt "You better have a good explanation of this, Lieutenant." Quaritch growled through his teeth, his tail audibly swishing through the air behind you both. 

Lyle stopped where he could easily grab you if he needed to, his hands deceptively relaxed at his sides. He looked almost afraid, an expression you'd never seen on him before. Sure, you'd seen him angry, heartbroken, elated, and contented, but you'd never seen him afraid of anything. So him looking afraid at your predicament made the blood try to freeze in your veins. "Sir, we need a guide, someone who can teach us how to survive in the field. Y/n is our best chance, we can get her to listen." He reasoned, leaning in like he was offering Quaritch a good deal, like he was trying to offer you his closeness and support. He was all you had, your only friend in enemy territory, so you had little choice but to trust him, and accept his help if you wanted to live. 

Quaritch groaned and shook his head like he was going to rebuff the idea, like he was so sure you were so hell bent on rejecting Lyle that you'd reject the idea. "If you need training, all you had to do was ask." You chimed in, leaning back on your hands to relieve some of the discomfort pinching your neck. 

Lyle immediately jumped on your words like you'd promised to teach them rocket science "She's lived here for sixteen years, sir. She knows all the ins and out of the forest, knows how to appeal to the locals. That's the ultimate goal isn't it? Stop the hostilities? She can help, right, Y/n?" He didn't dare signal for you to agree while facing the Colonel, but that didn't stop him from hinting with his words. 

You nodded enthusiastically, though tried to not seem too eager "Peace is mutually beneficial for both sides. And I'm always happy to teach, you can even ask Lyle, it took a couple weeks to teach him how to properly make pasta." You threw in the embarrassing story to help ease the Colonel, almost breathing a sigh of relief when his fist relaxed around your kuru little by little as he thought. 

After a few moments, he sighed, looking between the two of you with a lopsided frown "Alright, you've got one shot at this, if she fucks up, attacks us, or tries to run, I expect you to kill her." He ordered Lyle, half-heartedly jabbing a finger into the middle of his chest. "Your wife, your responsibility. Go get her set up with kit she might need." He completely let go of your kuru, something you were thankful for but didn't move any further for fear of making him hostile again. 

"Of course, Colonel." Lyle nodded, expression serious, eyes carefully guarded though his tail flicked nervously behind him, his ears flat.

"And Y/n," He paused, looking down his nose at you with a glint in his eyes "one toe outta line and I'll happily order your execution. Don't tempt me, don't test my resolve." 

You nodded, your own expression serious "Yes, Colonel." You nodded. You remembered that the Colonel was not a bluffing man, had never been one either. 

Quaritch's steps were measured as he left, making you both wait on baited breath, worried that he'd turn around at any moment and recant his words, finish the job. Neither of you dared to truly breathe until the door was shut behind him, both of you sagging in relief that the danger was finally gone "Turn around." He ordered softly, his fingers motioning for yours. You couldn't turn fast enough, eager to be free of the cuffs as soon as possible. As soon as they were off your wrists you were holding them in front of yourself, rubbing them tenderly as you turned back around to him.   

Neither of you said a word as he had you follow him to a spare storage room that was filled with boxes and vacuum sealed bags of Na'vi sized clothing and equipment, the both of you beginning to search for things that would work for you. "Here, would this work?" He asked, calling your attention to him as you pulled a pair of tactical camo pants from a large box. He was holding a plain fatigue green shirt out to you, though you could already tell it'd have trouble fitting your bust at least. But you humored him, setting the pants down and taking the shirt, only pausing to untie the intricate beadwork that covered your upper torso and top. The shirt fit as you expected it to, tight and uncomfortable on your skin, barely getting over your already restrained breasts. "Fair point." Lyle hummed as soon as you looked back at him, the man trying to hide the lavender tint to his cheeks by turning quickly. You caught a slight tenting in his pants as he turned, that all too familiar spike of excitement flashing through your core. 

You tried the pants when you managed to wrestle the shirt off, throwing the offending article of clothing away before slipping the thinner canvas up your legs. You stopped at your knees to feed your tail through the hole as well as remove the decorative skirt you liked wearing over your underclothes, your loincloth as the humans had once called it. You could feel eyes on you the entire time, acting like you didn't know Lyle was watching your every move like a blushing virgin. The comparison made you pause mentally as you resumed pulling the pants up and absentmindedly cataloging adjustments you needed to make in them. Lyle, Quaritch, and the other Avatars weren't the originals of themselves, they were like echoes, like clones, built from a copy made onto a Soul Drive. None of them were actually who they said they were, not really. It made a pang of loneliness and heartache shoot through your chest as you pulled the pants off, quickly shooting forward and snatching Lyle's smaller knife off his belt before he could stop you "Hey!" He barked in surprise, hand out to stop you from attacking until he realized you had no interest in violence. You made precise cuts in the pants at the waistline and then partway down the hips at the seam, wanting the pants to stretch with you. 

You returned the knife when you were satisfied with the cuts, blinking up at the man that stared at you like you'd spontaneously grown an extra head "Can you help me find a sewing kit?" You asked softly, the sadness of the realization still soaking in your bones. The man in front of you could share familiar features and speech patterns with the man you'd spent more than half your life with once upon a time, but he'd never be him. 

He gulped at your request and nodded silently, helping you look for one while you strutted around in your underwear. You could feel his eyes on you occasionally, flicking your tail slowly like you hadn't noticed, though a large part of you reveled in the attention, was excited by it. It only took a few minutes to find a kit, the needle ridiculously small in your Na'vi sized fingers, but seeing as you didn't have your sewing kit, you'd have to make it work. You sat on the floor as you worked on the pants, reinforcing seams where you'd made cuts and smoothing edged to look better and prevent fraying. When you were done you tried the pants on again, threading through your tail through the hole again before successfully pulling the pants over you hips and securing them over your waist.  They were suffocating and harsh against your skin, already making you sweat down your shins in a temperature controlled environment. You snatched Lyle's knife again, the man not saying a word in protest as he crossed his arms over his chest, and cut the legs off at mid-thigh. 

"Looks cute." He praised as he cleared his throat, calling your attention back to him as you reattached your skirt around your hips, the individual strings falling as they liked as you moved. You didn't miss the tenting in his pants, larger and more noticeable than it had been before. 

You winked at him with a grin, wanting to see how far he'd go, how flustered he'd get "Thanks, Stud." 

His face flushed again, though he schooled himself to look serious, the only give away was his tail flicking excitedly behind him, his ears swiveling constantly, picking up every single sound. "Though, you'll have to take the skirt off again, you need a harness." He looked down at your skirt as he approached with the harness already in hand, every step measured and controlled as he glanced up at you through his lashes. It thrilled you to your core, almost stealing your breath as his pinned you in place with just a look. He grinned smugly, liking the effect he had on you. You did as he asked while maintaining eye contact, your deft fingers undoing the knot and placing the skirt noisily on a nearby box. "Foot up, Peach." Any resolve you'd had, any restraint, left you as he used that pet name. Your mind instant went back to the last time he'd used it, his tongue fucking your pussy like a man starved, his cock fucking the mattress with abandon as he told you that you were as sweet as a peach and as pink as one too. His grin as he dropped to a knee in front of you showed he knew exactly where your mind went, heat flickering under your cheeks as you kept your eyes on him. He slid the harness over one leg, and then the other when you shifted, pulling it up your legs slowly, like he was taking time to memorize how your skin felt against his again. You had to widen your stance when he finally got the harness to your hips, a shuddered breath leaving you as he all but buried his face at the apex of your thighs, breathing deeply and groaning "God, you smell amazing, Kitten." He looked up at you again, his pupils blown with desire, his hands gripping your hips the moment he buckled the harness into place. 

Desire was pulsing in your pussy, making it tingle and beg for his cock, want filling you like the best drug in the universe as you sagged back into the shelf behind you, giving him better access to you. Access that he took advantage of as he began nuzzling and nipping at your clothed sex, his hands pulling you into him more. "Lyle." You breathed softly, a hand finding his head and gripping like he was your lifeline. "Oh fuck, Lyle." You moaned as his nose pressed just right against your clit, your legs spreading more as your foot found a spot on a smaller nearby box, giving him barely restricted access to all of you. 

Suddenly he was gone, pulling away completely, a shit eating grin firmly on his face as your focus snapped up to him "Come on, Baby. Gotta finish getting you set up." You pouted at him as you straightened yourself up, your pussy still dripping with need and your heart beating with desire. 

"You're mean." You sniffed at him before trying to focus on making sure the harness fit properly, vaguely remembering that it couldn't be too comfortable. 

He chuckled at your attempt to distract yourself, deciding to leave you wanting and nearly driven mad by it "Only for you, Peach." He lowered his timbre for you, remembering how it used to drive you wild when you were already needy for him. 

You gasped involuntarily, your thighs tight together as you stared at him like a deer in the headlights, your pupils blown as much as his had been "Lyle!" You admonished wanting nothing more in that moment than for him to bend you over something and fuck you dumb. 

His little gremlin chuckle turned into a deviant giggle as he innocently searched through boxes for anything else you might have needed "What, Sweetheart?" He asked, peeking back at you over his shoulder, still grinning, still giggling "Don't want someone to walk in on us, do you? Want someone to see you drooling over my cock? See me fuck your pretty pussy?" The man knew exactly what he was doing to you and was dragging it out as much as he dared, like he was challenging you to take charge of the situation. 

It was your turn to grin, your tail moving in high, wide arches behind you with the thrill of the mutual chase "That's never stopped us before." You reminded him, tone soft and alluring, drawing more and more of his attention, his pupils and nostrils blow wide at the obvious scent of your arousal "Remember that time in your barracks? Or that time in the car? We woke up everyone both times." His pants were straining against him, a small wet spot beginning to form where the head was. "Seems like I'm not the only one drooling." You purred, winking at him. 

It was suddenly like all resolve snapped, the man practically pouncing on you in a flurry of grasping hands and an eager mouth. He cupped a large hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, the both of you so eager and needy for the contact that your teeth clacked together, your lips getting bruised in the process. It only spurred the both of you on, hands frantically trying to divest each other of clothing, fingers clumsy in their search for relief. He barely managed the knot that held your top together, the thick fabric giving as soon as the knot was free, your breasts surging forth to their natural state. He groaned appreciatively as his hands instantly found their places kneading your generous bust, each one more than two handfuls and extremely sensitive to his attentions. Your fingers struggled with the button of his pants as you gasped and moaned, his fingers rolling your nipples in an electrifying way. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and to your neck, lavishing it with attention as he licked and nipped and sucked at the delicate flesh, pulling at your nipples gently as though goading you to work at his pants faster. His cock sprang free as soon as you pulled his pants down his thighs, the weight of it smacking your stomach, the heat of it already making you drunk on it. He chuckled against your throat as you began pumping it in your hand, brushing your palm against the tip in elliptical drags "Need my cock, Kitten?" He rumbled against you flesh, the vibrations going all the way down to your needy pussy as you leaned your head back with a groan. 

"Please, Lyle," You moaned, your half lidded eyes meeting his as he left your neck, one of his hands slowly leaving your breasts and slowly trailing down to your pants. He had them unbuttoned in one smooth motion, not giving you a chance to pout at the skill before his fingers were finding your clit. "Please." You breathed, your eyes slipping closed as he simply just pressed down on it. You had no doubt that he could feel the rush of slick his mere proximity drew from your heat, the man groaning as his fingers became wet without him trying. 

"You needy little cock whore." He groaned appreciatively "Did you miss my cock, Baby?"

"Uh-huh." You gasped, nodding as quickly as you dared, still pumping his cock as it throbbed in your hand. 

He pressed down harder as he tutted, making you squeal softly from the sudden flood of pleasure "Gotta use your words, Kitten. Or I'm not gonna know what you need." He reprimanded you with a smug little tone, taking charge of the situation like you needed him to. 

"Need," You tried, licking your lips as you looked up at him "need your cock in me, need you to fuck me dumb." You moaned as his fingers began to massage your clit in such a way that his middle finger was dipping into your pussy ever so slightly. 

"So fucking wet for me," He growled, biting gently at your throat. He remembered how you felt about hickies, but he couldn't resist biting you, needed to feel his teeth sink into your giving flesh just a little. "So fucking needy for me." He groaned, plunging his fingers into your hot pussy without warning, stretching you with three of his fingers. His other hand left your breast and immediately began working on pulling your shorts down, not quick enough for your liking as you quickly helped him, making sure to not dislodge his fingers as they pumped in and out of you so deliciously. Without warning his fingers left you empty and dripping, a muttered curse leaving his lips as he realized how messy you'd left his fingers, the long digits absolutely covered in clear slick, strings of it clinging to his fingers as he spread them. He spun you around without a word, fisting his cock with his drenched hand as his other pressed your upper body into the shelf, bending you just enough to give him a beautiful view of you. He didn't give you time to adjust as he thrust into you in one smooth motion, your pussy squelching loudly around him as you both moaned loudly. 

He set a devastating pace almost immediately, thrusting nearly completely out of you before hammering back in, hilting with every stroke, his head practically punching your cervix every time. Your loud moans were better than music to him, rocking back to meet him thrust for thrust, his hands gripping your hips to keep himself steady as he began getting drunk off the pleasure. He grabbed the base of your tail at some point, lifting you to stand on the balls of your feet, completely changing the angle as his head began hitting that spot inside of you, the one that always made you see stars and babble incoherently "Ohhh fuckkk!" You cried as you gripped desperately at the shelf, fingers finding little purchase but you kept gripping anyway. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck Lyle!" You whimpered with every thrust, the coil tightening in your belly as your hands and feet tingled from the neural overload, your legs shaking from the pleasure. "Ohhh! Fuck me so good! So fucking good!" You kept talking as the squelching from your pussy became more obscene, wetter, louder, a small puddle beginning to form between your feet as your pussy drooled around his cock. 

"Gonna cum for me, Baby?" He groaned, pounding into you harder, encouraging you to come undone for him. "Cum for me, Y/n. Please cum on my cock." He ordered, sending you over the edge, your toes curling and your back arching, pressing your chest deeper into the shelf but you didn't care as white engulfed your vision, your legs shaking even more, the hunger in your pussy increasing. "Good girl, good fucking girl." He praised you as he continued to fuck you through it, his pace unrelenting, wanting you to cum as long as you could, wanting you to cum again as quickly as possible. He coaxed your hips higher, practically lifting you the extra inch, finding that spot that kept you cumming all night long if he wanted you too. You were practically screaming in pleasure as your pussy clenched his cock, trying to milk him for every drop of cum he'd eventually give you, his resolve to hold out as long as he possibly could crumbling the tighter and tighter your pussy got around him. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum Y/n..." He warned you as his pace lost some of its rhythm, his thrusts becoming insistent, pushing as deep into you as he could.

"Cum in me, need your cum, so fucking addicted to it!" You begged him, thrusting back onto him, needing him as deep as he could go. 

He came within moments, holding you tightly as he forced his cock into your cervix, almost popping it as he pumped thick ropes of his cum into you with low moans and shuddered breaths. It took him nearly a minute to stop cumming, and you took every drop, practically purring the entire time. When he was finally done, he pulled you flush with his chest, nuzzling into your neck and the side of your head, panting softly as his heart thundered against your back. Your hands caressed the back of his as he held you, even after his cock slipped out, a flood of your combined cum gushing to the floor but you couldn't be bothered to care as he just held you "I missed you." He admitted softly before pressing a sweet kiss to your temple, pulling a soft hum from your chest as you pressed into the action. 

"I missed you too," You admitted to him just as softly, turning your head to look at him. You'd missed seeing his handsome face every day, and were looking forward to seeing him more often. You didn't know what the future had in store for the both of you, but you were resolved to meet it beside him. Now that you had him again, you were hellbent on not leaving him again, on teaching him the way of Pandora, of curing his 'insanity' as Mo'at had once called it. 

#smut #lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet x reader #miles quaritch #na'vi reader #avatar reader #reader request #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Eofringillirostrum vs Heliothraupis

Factfiles:

Eofringillirostrum boudreauxi, E. parvulum 

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Dawn Finch-Beak (Boudreaux’s or Small) 

Time: 54 to 48 million years ago, in the Ypresian of the Eocene 

Location: Sandwich Beds, Fossil Butte Member, Green River Formation, Wyoming; and the Messel Formation near Darmstadt, Germany 

Today, over half of the birds known in the world are passerines, or “perching birds”. Unfortunately, these birds on average are small and delicate, leading to their not having the most robust fossil record compared to other birds. However, the fossils of passerines we do have tell us an interesting story about their evolution. Eofringillirostrum, despite being a very early member of the total-passeriform group (ie, it isn’t a true passerine, but close), shows how many of the traits we see in modern representatives occurred fairly early on in their evolution. Eofringillirostrum had a finch-like beak, similar to living species, that would have been helpful in eating small hard seeds - a niche not easily exploited. While we often think of birds as “seed-eaters”, this is not common and only exploitable by certain species - and, apparently, some early passerine relatives like Eofringillirostrum. This indicates that different early relatives of passerines were already doing very similar ecological jobs to their living relatives, even while many other bird types were exploiting passerine-like niches (such as the many types of stem-mouse birds that lived at the time). Both the Messel Pit and the Fossil Butte environments were tropical forests, emerging right after the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum; both were associated with fossil lakes, which allowed for rapid preservation of a variety of early animals that show how “modern” life first diversified in the Paleogene period. As such, Eofringillirostrum just has too many neighbors to list - including so many kinds of birds its a little overwhelming. Eofringillirostrum, in this environment, would have been one of many different species of birds, and weirdly modern looking among them! 

Heliothraupis oneilli 

Photograph by John C. Mittermeier, written by @zygodactylus 

Name Meaning: O’Neill’s Tanager of the Sun God Inti 

Time: Unknown to the present, Holocene, Quaternary 

Location: Western Bolivia and Southern Peru, South America  Rarely do we get to talk about a newly discovered living species of bird, but this is one of those excellent times! This bird, a bright yellow tanager with a distinctive black stripe across its eye, was found in the Neotropics - specifically in the Yungas region. Given that Latin America has the largest number of bird species in the world, it makes a certain amount of sense that we may have missed some! First spotted in the nineties, it was properly identified and described over the course of the 2010s. The distinctive appearance of this tanager lead to it being nicknamed the “Kill Bill Tanager”, in reference to its similarity to Uma Thurman’s yellow jumpsuit outfit. Distinct in appearance and population from other tanagers, it was deemed not only a separate species, but an entirely separate genus. It is migratory, breeding in the northern Machariapo Valley and going down to the eastern Andes for the nonbreeding season. It lives in deciduous forests, and breeds in bamboo grasses. It is a loud and vocal bird, making distinctive songs and choruses that happen long after the dawn chorus of most other birds. As it lives in a fairly isolated region of these countries, its habitat is not particularly threatened at this time.

DMM Round One Masterpost

#dmm #dinosaur march madness #dinosaurs #birds #dmm round one #dmm rising stars #birblr #palaeoblr #paleontology #bracket #march madness #polls #eofringillirostrum #heliothraupis

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; white diamond

requested by ; anonymous (20/04/23)

fandom(s) ; steven universe

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; white diamond

outline ; “hiii!!! could you possibly do white diamond (steven universe) x gn dating headcanons? <3”

warning(s) ; set before pink is assigned earth, canon-typical violence and anti-organic life ideals, unhealthy relationship dynamics (its white, so this is rather obvious), author hasn’t watched this show in ages so potentially shaky characterisation

dating white diamond would be incredibly difficult for a variety of reasons — not least of which being her distinct apathy and detachment to any and all life outside of her small circle of equals

and even then she can treat them in a very cruel and cold manner (see her treatment of pink diamond and her punishment of blue and yellow for speaking out against her)

but if you managed to somehow get to a point where you were in a romantic relationship with her then things would probably be quite different

of course you’d be subject to the same pampering and special treatments given to the other diamonds and she’d have all of the lesser gems worship you as one of them

you’d have your own palace like structure similar to her ‘sisters’ and the only time she’d leave her head/ship would be to visit you there — it’s the only other location she deems worthy of her presence

she’s not really affectionate (it’s just not in her nature) but she’s very liberal with her praise of you

she insists that you’re perfect in every way: perfect cut, perfect colour, perfect stance and so on

will harshly punish anyone that speaks against you — even if that person is another diamond like yellow or pink

hand picks a set of staff for you including the most perfect cut of pearl she can get her hands on

ensures that you never go without anything that you might crave whether that’s land, entertainment or even the indulgence of organic things (which she disapproves of but also won’t deny you)

holds you to the same incredibly high standards that she holds herself to but won’t outright punish you for falling out of line

like she’ll correct you and pull you out of the situation but she won’t shatter you for it

you’re the only one who is able to make her laugh or show any emotion other than her baseline polite apathy

insists on you reforming into a form that matches her ‘clothing’

heavily considers giving you your own colony but ultimately decides against it — offering you some of her planets to watch over instead

during pink’s galas she’ll have you perched on her hand/shoulder/knee as you enjoy the festivities and will only really talk to you throughout unless the other diamonds have something of the utmost importance to say

still considers herself above you because of her cut of gem, but values you incredibly highly — putting you on equal footing to the other diamonds irrespective of your natural rank

insists that you travel with heavy protection because you’re so precious to her

gets jealous and petty extremely easily and will take out her frustrations on the offending gems by shattering them en masse without any hesitation or remorse

in her mind their fate was sealed when they began to toy with her property (you)

though they don’t even need to be flirty or cruel — if someone talks to you for too long or makes you laugh then that can be enough to guarantee a death sentence

this means that most gems are outright terrified of you and won’t engage with you unless they have to (e.g. being assigned to protect or advise you)

it also leaves you feeling incredibly isolated as your only consistent company is white (who isn’t the most empathetic), her ‘sisters’ (who don’t treat you as an equal) and your pearl (who is forced to be around you by her very nature)

so by no stretch of the imagination is this a healthy relationship — mainly because of white’s inability to regulate her emotions and attachments properly — but at the very least you’ll never doubt how much you mean to her

because it’s abundantly clear that your life and relationship is, to white, worth discarding a few millennia’s worth of resources through the unnecessary shattering of hundreds of perfect gems over the course of your relationship

but at least you’ll never want for anything and, even if she struggles to articulate as much or act in any traditionally affectionate way, white diamond does care greatly for you

and she’ll do anything for you if you say the word

(even to her own detriment at times)

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #dating hcs #relationship hcs #steven universe x reader #white diamond x reader #su white diamond x reader #first fandom request

[rebeccathenaturalist]

How to Identify Cross Orbweaver Spiders

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/how-to-identify-cross-orbweaver-spiders/. Click here to learn more about the How to Identify article series.

Name: Cross orbweaver spider (Araneus diadematus), also known as cross spider, European garden spider, et. al.

Range and typical habitat(s): Native to much of Europe, sporadically found in temperate areas of Asia, introduced to North America, particularly the west coast and northeast United States.

Distinguishing physical characteristics (size, colors, overall shapes, detail shapes) and behaviors: Fall is just around the corner, and if you’re looking for more eco-friendly seasonal decorations, the cross orbweaver is the perfect fit! While these spiders have spent all summer chowing down on insects, by September they’ve gotten big enough to be quite visible on their large orb webs.

A mature female cross orbweaver spider.

Both sexes are a variable combination of orange, yellow, brown, and/or gray, and they all have white cross-shaped markings on the dorsal (upper) side of their rather large, oval-shaped abdomens. The legs are tan to orange with darker brown or gray stripes. Like many other web-weaving spiders, cross orbweavers tend to rest in the center of their web with their head facing down and their legs flexed rather than straight, though the fourth pair in the back may sometimes be extended somewhat. Their legs are covered in fine hairs with a fuzzy appearance. They are also known to perch on nearby leaves and twigs.

Like other members of the family Araneidae, the orb-weavers, these spiders have four pairs of eyes. Females are larger than males, reaching up to 1″ long in exceptional individuals, while males usually top out at 1/2″ or less. A close examination shows that males can also be distinguished by large pedipalps with swollen ends. These are little appendages nestled between the chelicerae (jaws) and the first pair of legs. Males use the pedipalps in mating displays, and to also pass sperm to the female. A courting male needs to be careful, as females will engage in cannibalism.

A male cross orbweaver (right) carefully approaches a female (left) with the intent to mate.

The eggs laid by females the previous fall hatch in spring, releasing several dozen (or more!) tiny yellow spiderlings into the world. While they make webs as soon as they find a good location, these young spiders often end up as prey for other animals themselves. Cross orbweavers generally live no more than a year, though females die shortly after laying their eggs, and males are often eaten by their mates.

The web is made of a series of overlapping threads of silk like the spokes in a wheel, with a spiraling orb starting at the center and working its way outward. A cross orbweaver’s web may be quite large, and the central orb may at times exceed two feet in diameter. They are not picky about where they set up shop, and are often found near homes and other buildings, where they are quite adept at catching flying insects that blunder into the web. If threatened, these spiders shake their web vigorously, and are not prone to bite unless handled roughly. They may dry bite in self-defense, choosing not to use venom. Their venom is not considered dangerous to humans.

Other organisms it could be confused with and how to tell the difference: There are several other Araneus species that look quite similar to the cross orbweaver. Of these, the most similar is the four-spot orbweaver (Araneus quadratus) has less variegated orange, green, or brown abdomen with four small white spots on it rather than a cross, though they have similarly striped legs. It is found only in Europe.

Araneus quadratus

The cat-faced spider (Araneus gemmoides), also known as the jewel orbweaver, is of similar size and color variation to the cross orbweaver. However, its abdomen has two pronounced points on top that look rather like a cat’s ears. Araneus gemma (not pictured) is also sometimes called the cat-faced spider or the gem-shaped spider, and it has a similarly shaped abdomen but tends to be paler in color. Both of these species are primarily found in the western half of temperate North America.

Araneus gemmoides. By Trucmuche04, CCA-SA-3.0

Anything else worth mentioning? Because the cross orbweaver is not native to North America, it competes with native spiders for food. This is especially concerning as insect populations have plummeted in recent decades due to pesticide use and habitat loss. It is often found in urban areas and other places with lots of human habitation, and is considered an invasive species in the Bay Area. They are considered harmless to humans.

Further Reading:

Cross Orbweaver Spider

Cross Orbweaver

Cross Orbweaver (Araneus diadematus)

Spiderspotter: Cross Orbweaver

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#spider #spiders #cw spiders #spider tw #cross orbweaver #orb weaver #arachnids #arthropods #invertebrates #bugs #wildlife #animals #wild animals #nature #nature identification #invasive species #biodiversity #science #scicom

[midnight-glasses]

| If the Tsukinami brothers were your beloved pet cats?

Don't ask me why I did it.

— Carla Tsukinami:

Carla is an observant and silent pet, preferring to observe the environment from a strategic vantage point while maintaining an air of sophistication in his appearance.

When it comes to food, Carla has developed a taste for premium-quality cat food. He particularly enjoys a grain-free, high-protein blend with a delicate hint of salmon, his refined palate appreciates the rich flavors and textures.

He demands attention on his own terms and enjoys keeping everyone in suspense about his true intentions, even his owners.

Carla exhibits a fascination with intricate feather wands. As the feather flutters and dances through the air, his eyes fixate on the graceful movement, and he becomes fully engrossed in an enchanting game of chase.

He have a favorite hideout in the house, a luxurious cat tower positioned by a sunny window. He spend hours lounging there, observing the world outside with an air of mystery. The tower is his sanctuary, where he can enjoy solitude and plan his next moves.

When it's time for relaxation, Carla has a peculiar affinity for basking in the warm glow of sunlight. He seeks out the sunniest spots in the house, whether it's a windowsill or a strategically positioned cat tree. Bathed in golden rays, he luxuriates in the gentle warmth, his eyes half-closed in contentment, as if he's embracing the radiance of his ancestral origins.

One distinct quirk of Carla during playtime is his fondness for controlled stalking. He has a keen eye for observing his surroundings and stealthily tracking his toys or fellow feline companions from a distance. With calculated precision, he waits for the perfect moment to strike, launching himself into a graceful pounce that reflects his ancient “predator ancestry”.

Carla:

He has a peculiar preference for toys that challenge his intellect and agility. Among his favorite toys is a small puzzle box with hidden compartments and treat dispensers. He enjoys the thrill of figuring out the mechanisms and unlocking the hidden treasures inside, displaying his astute problem-solving skills.

Carla rarely purrs, but when he does, it produces a deep and thunderous sound that resonates loudly. Whenever he is content, relaxed, or allows himself to show his emotions, his purring fills the room, sometimes startling his feline companions and his humans.

Carla takes great pride in his appearance and has a meticulous grooming routine. He spends a significant amount of time grooming his sleek fur, ensuring every strand is perfectly in place. His meticulousness extends to his feline companions as well; he is often seen gently grooming their fur to maintain its pristine appearance.

— Shin Tsukinami:

Shin is a fiery and energetic ginger cat with bright yellow eyes.

He is always full of energy, constantly on the move and ready to pounce on anything that catches his interest.

Shin is the troublemaker of the duo, always getting into fights with Carla or causing chaos around the house. However, beneath his unruly nature, he has a gentle side.

He often seeks affection and attention from his humans, even if it's done in a somewhat rough manner: he enjoys giving “love bites” as a sign of affection.

Shin is an expert at finding small hideouts and secret spots throughout the house. Whether it's a cozy cardboard box tucked away in a corner or a high perch on the bookshelf, he always discovers a new place to explore. His erratic spirit leads him to unexpected places, and his humans often find him in the most peculiar locations.

When it's time to unwind, Shin seeks out cozy hideaways and snug spaces. He enjoys curling up in a soft, fleece-lined cat bed or burrowing into a pile of warm blankets. His contented purrs resonate gently as he drifts into a peaceful slumber.

Shin also has a curious fascination with shiny objects. Whether it's a candy wrapper or a reflection bouncing off a mirrored surface, his eyes fixate on the gleaming allure. He playfully bats at the glimmers, enchanted by their elusive nature, as if he's on a quest to capture the essence of light itself.

He has a obsession with interactive toys that mimic the movements of small prey. His favorite toy is a battery-powered mouse that scampers and darts unpredictably across the floor. His eyes light up with excitement as he chases after it.

Shin has a particular fondness for treats with a crunchy texture. He relishes in the sound and sensation of each bite, his tail swishing back and forth with delight. His humans often find him pawing at his food bowl, trying to coax out the last few pieces of kibble, never wanting the tasty experience to end.

He has a wide repertoire of vocalizations, using meows and chirps to communicate his desires and emotions. He has a unique way of expressing himself through his vocalizations, whether it's a demanding meow for attention or a contented purr when receiving affection. His expressive meows make it easier for his humans to understand his needs and desires, unlike his older brother, Carla.

All my written content is original, however, I do not claim ownership of the characters depicted. ©2023-Present.

#shin headcanons #diabolik lovers shin #shin tsukinami #diabolik lovers headcanons #midnightglasses headcanons #diabolik lovers #midnightglasses #diahell #carla tsukinami #tsukinami carla #carla headcanons #diabolik lovers carla #tsukinami brothers headcanon #tsukinami brothers headcanons #shin tsuknami #tsukinami shin #tsukinami brothers

[magnetothemagnificent]

My birding week vacation is over, so here are all the bird species I saw:

1. Little blue heron

2. Sharp-shinned hawk

3. Black vulture

4. Great egret

5. Sandhill crane

6. Mourning dove

7. Common loon (there were two of them just hanging out at a lake. We couldn't believe it but they were unmistakable)

8. Cattle egret

9. Great blue heron

10. Anhinga

11. Double-crested cormorant

12. Red-winged Blackbird

13. Limpkin

14. Wood stork

15. White ibis

16. Muskovy duck

17. Boat-tailed grackle

18. American crow

19. American coot

20. Common gallinule

21. Common grackle

22. Glossy ibis

23. Palm warbler

24. Osprey

25. American purple gallinule

26. Wood duck

27. Red-shouldered hawk

28. Pied-billed grebe

29. Royal tern

30. Eastern Phoebe

31. Roseate spoonbill (last year it eluded me, but this year I saw two at two separate locations!)

31. Black-bellied whistling duck

32. Tricolor heron

33. Northern harrier

34. Yellow-rumped warbler

35. Tree swallow

36. Swallow-tailed kite

37. Ring-billed gull

38. Turkey vulture

39. Mallard

40. White pelican (there were two just hanging out at an artificial lake in the middle of a residential area)

41. Red eyed vireo

42. Mulard

43. American pekin

44. Mallard/Pekin hybrid

45. Downy woodpecker

46. Grey catbird

47. Blue-grey gnatcatcher

48. Fish crow

49. Northern parula

50. Snowy egret

51. Chimney swift

52. Common yellowthroat

53. Bald eagle

54. Red-bellied woodpecker

55. Blue winged teal (we only saw these guys because we had to walk an extra 1.5 miles to take the long way back to the car because an alligator decided to block our short way back)

56. Great-crested flycatcher

57. Louisiana waterthrush

58. Laughing gull

59. Northern mockingbird

60. Mottled duck

61. Loggerhead shrike

62. White eyed vireo

63. Tufted titmouse

64. Northern cardinal

65. Black and white warbler

66. Ring-necked duck (I saw this lone duck from the car as we were driving past an artificial lake. From it's silhouette I could see it looked different from the other ducks common in the area, so we stopped the car literally on the side of the road so I could run out with my binoculars, and sure enough it was a new species to add to the list. And then when we came back a few days later, it was still there swimming around and diving, so I guess it lived around there.)

67. Carolina chickadee

68. Swamp sparrow

69. Ruby-crowned kinglet

70. Pileated woodpecker

71. Belted kingfisher (we visited the same place three times because my Grandpa saw kingfishers there a few times. It wasn't until the third and final time, while we were ready to give up and leave, that we saw it, perched on a sign post over the water)

72. House sparrow

73. Cooper's hawk

74. Carolina wren

75. White-throated sparrow

#birds #birding

[oftenwantedafton]

Craving - Vampire Dave Miller/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Urban Explorer Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Mature

Warnings for blood and violence

Summary - There is something hungry dwelling inside the depths of the pizzeria in the abandoned shopping mall; something that craves your blood to sustain it.

Also available on AO3

Past the withering potted plants and forgotten vending machines, deep in the abandoned shopping mall where the daylight filtering through the skylights can never reach, the pizzeria slumbers.

Unsheltered by security gates, the glass windows offer an unobstructed peak inside the restaurant. The illumination of your flashlight reveals a confetti patterned carpet just beyond cordoned welcome signs with the franchise’s popular animal mascots illustrated in cheerful splashes of primary colors.

You enter Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria cautiously, but the glass front doors ease open silently. There is the faintest scent of pizza from years ago, the greasy odor still impossibly lingering. Assuring yourself there are no trip hazards you continue forward, moving the light over the rows of tables and chairs. There are stained glass windows set into several of the booth’s wooden frames, one for each of the animatronics, each rendering a friendly caricature.

A row of crane machines line one wall filled with various stuffed animals. The prize counter houses bins of cheap metal security badges and plastic trinkets. A dusty roll of tickets perched on the corner has unwound in a long line, the printed bits of paper cascading down into a messy pile. A glint on the opposite side of the booth reveals a small pile of tokens in a shade somewhere between gold and bronze, etched with the image of Freddy Fazbear himself.

At the far end of the dining room are the stages, one larger platform and a smaller circular one nearby. You cautiously lift the heavy fabric of the star patterned curtains and nearly yell when you catch sight of a trio of animatronics. The brown bear is in the center, clutching a microphone in one paw. To his left is a large yellow chicken wearing a confetti printed bib holding a plate with a large pink cupcake. The final member of the group is a blue rabbit clutching a red electric guitar. Regaining your composure, you study them for awhile longer, deciding to leave the other curtain untouched for now.

The arcade machines are silent, the neon guide lights labeling the exits and restrooms long extinguished. The first hallway you reach leads to the kitchen area. The pots and pans and dishes are stacked neatly on the shelves. There are rows of folded pizza boxes and the stainless steel work surfaces are free of clutter. You exit and find yourself reaching areas that are labeled Storage and Maintenance. The janitorial closet unsurprisingly holds nothing of interest, but the maintenance area is far more intriguing.

Here there is the first real signs of chaos, though you quickly realize it’s not from any vandalism but rather the sheer volume of the objects themselves scattered on every surface, from shelves to counters to the floor. Much of it is foreign to you. There are pieces of metal and loops of wire, bits and pieces of things you think must be internal components of the animatronics themselves. You catch sight of steel limbs, sightless eyes, frightening rows of teeth. There is a headless torso housing a rib cage with sharp metal tips and a slumped costume tucked into one corner that sets your heart pounding when you mistake it intially for a corpse. The place feels different, more sinister than the rest of the locations you’ve explored thus far.

The next discovery is the manager’s office. A large steel desk and filing cabinet greets you. The calendar hanging on the wall is many years out of date. There is an old clunky looking rotary phone and a stack of folders. You flip through one briefly and realize it’s an employee’s resume and a performance review.

The final room you investigate is the security office.

The door does not open easily, resisting your initial efforts. It feels like shoving the lid of a coffin aside, the door grating unevenly along the floor, as if it has somehow shifted over time and no longer swings cleanly in its frame. It makes a terrible screeching sound and you pause mid motion, trying not to breathe too loudly.

The darkness of the revealed interior seems to swallow most of your flashlight’s beam. You can just make out stacks of blank monitors. The desk holds a switchboard and a red and white striped paper cup long forgotten by a previous guard. The walls are covered in children’s artwork done in crayons and pencils and watercolors. There are posters and operating instructions and decorations crafted from paper plates and construction paper that resemble the animatronics. It’s a strange combination of adult and child themed decor. You bump into the swivel desk chair when you turn away and the chair rolls back into the shadows until you hear it thud as it collides with something.

You move to retrieve it, having no desire to disturb anything as has always been your code during urban explorations, when you realize what it is the chair has struck.

In the increasingly faltering light you see a yellow rabbit mascot slouched against the wall. The head is dropped forward and you cannot see its features. The purple bow tie is frayed, the black buttons no longer shiny. The tip of one ear has been worn away, exposing the innards of the suit. The entire structure is decaying, fur and fabric vacant in places, revealing steel and wires.

You cannot say what makes you reach out to the slumped figure. It is as if you have no control over your own limbs, fingers seeking to touch the headpiece, catching on something sharp. You wince and jerk back, the flashlight’s ray bouncing unsteadily around the room before you drop it. Blood drips from your injury, the warm wetness sliding down your hand.

Slowly the yellow rabbit’s head lifts, the silver eyes sparking to life.

“More.” Its voice is like rusted cogs grinding together.

Frozen in terror, you make easy prey. Metal digits grab your wounded hand and drag it back towards its face. There is the sensation of cold metal and then something warm and wet inside the suit touches you and strokes across the blood trail. It’s licking you, lapping until it feels your pulse. You feel teeth graze the flesh above your veins and then fangs pierce that tender barrier. A mouth clamps down, sucking, and you finally find yourself able to attempt to escape, tugging against the rabbit figure’s grasp, but your efforts are futile. Its grip is like an iron manacle. You hear it growl warningly and you become subdued once more, passively letting it drink your blood.

You’re lightheaded when it releases you at last, surprised in your final conscious moments when its arms brace your body protectively before you collapse to the floor.

#fnaf fanfic #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #springtrap

[thygeep]

Flock of the Land

Order Galliformes—Landfowl

4% of population

Territory: Marshlands (Purple)

Diet: Plants, Insects

Role: Home to large but generally harmless birds with little flying prowess, which would make them good and easy targets for the Talon if not for their hard to navigate environment.

Flock of the Lake

Order Anseriformes --Waterfowl

Other occupants:

* Gruiformes, cranes and allies

* Ciconiiformes, storks and allies

* Pelecaniformes, pelicans and allies

* Podicipediformes, grebes

* Gaviiformes, loons

* Procellariiformes, albatrosses, petrels, and allies

3% of population

Territory: Beach by shore (Orange)

Diet: Fish

Role: Home to large strong non-cannibalistic birds, therefore is often left alone by the predatory flocks.

Flock of the Shore

Order Charadriiformes—Shorebirds and Waders

Other occupants:

* Coraciiformes, kingfishers

* Phoenicopteriformes, flamingos

3% of population

Territory: On island by shore (Pink)

Diet: Fish

Role: Messengers, seen as an ‘off limits’ neutral party, even to the Predatory flocks.

Flock of the Talon

Order Falconiformes-Diurnal Raptors

Other occupants:

* Accipitriformes, eagles, hawks and allies

*Loggerhead shrike’s specifically

4% of population

Territory: Grasslands, by water and forests (Red)

Diet: Small birds, insects, small mammals, scavenged corpses

Role: Predatory birds who regularly pick off members of the Perch and Land, and occasionally Lake. Fights with the Night Flock for dominance.

Flock of the Night

Order Strigiformes–Owls (Nocturnal Raptors)

Other occupants:

* Caprimulgiformes, nightjars and allies (enslaved)

3% of population

Territory: Coniferous forests, mountains (Yellow)

Diet: Small birds, small mammals, insects

Role: Predatory birds who regularly pick off members of the Perch, and occasionally Lake. Fights with the Talon Flock for dominance. Enslaved the Nightjars from the Perch Flock.

Flock of the Song

Order Psittaciformes-Parrots, Parakeets, and Cockatoos

Other occupants:

* Cuculiformes, cuckoos, turacos, hoatzin

5% of population

Territory: Forest on island (Green)

Diet: Plants, insects

Role: Relaxed birds in a golden age, remain unhunted and secluded due to island location and the Shore Flock surrounding them. Creates lots of art.

Flock of the Perch

Order Passeriformes-Perching Birds

Other occupants:

* Coliiformes, mousebirds

* Trogoniformes, trogons

* Piciformes, woodpeckers and allies

* Apodiformes, swifts and hummingbirds

* Columbiformes, doves and pigeons

* Pteroclidiformes, sandgrouse

80% of population

Territory: Shallow forest, field (Blue)

Diet: Plants, insects

Role: By far the biggest flock, but born completely defenseless. Easiest to prey on alone due to small size and lack of defense mechanisms. Must travel in groups with weapons when traveling outside of towns.

#art #gothic #original character #original characters #oc #fantasy #ocs #birds #bird #birding #harpies #harpie #bird people #angels #Angel

[elains]

✾ chapter 2  — magic

❧ Summary: The way Elain and Lucien discovered their mating bond was perhaps not ideal, and the road towards falling in love and accepting their feelings full of thorns — but throughout challenges and adversity, they have made it work. Now, eternity awaits them.

A series of connected ficlets for Elucien Week 2023, set post the end of the series when all villains are gone, following episodes of Elain and Lucien's sometimes quiet, sometimes agitated, life together.

For @elucienweekofficial

Read on Ao3! • Chapter one

 Built on the shores of a glistening turquoise sea, Haemera was a thing of beauty: the lower city rested on white sands like shells on a beach, painted in bright white colors and with gilded roofs. The quays of the rectangular harbor speared the calm, deep water of the sea, where ships from all over the world came to moor, seeking knowledge only the Day Court held. The libraries and the palace district themselves, as well as the Temple of the Risen Sun and the sprawling estates of the nobility, lay perched atop the cliffs, ever-haloed by the blazing sun.

Velaris was the City of Starlight, but Haemera was the City of Sunlight — the entire metropolis shimmered in different colors as the sun rose and set, yellow and orange and pink and purple. When the sun was at its brightest, the white paint seemed to reflect all the colors of the rainbow.

Yet, for all its beauty and bustling activity, Elain and Lucien had elected to move away from it. After years in court, they wanted their own private space, far from prying eyes. Phoebe and Helion had not been keen on the idea, discontent to part with their son and daughter-in-law, but eventually, the four of them came to an agreement.

So Helion gifted them ownership of the Red Palace and all its surrounding lands. It was located on the outskirts of Haemera, far enough that the city walls and its lights were no longer seen, but close enough as to be reached by winnowing once. The construction stood on the slope of a hill flanked by sprawling vineyards and olive trees, a ruby set against the verdant earth, its intricate mullioned windows and latticed walls making for an airy but intimate space.

And the courtyards. The Red Palace had more courtyards than Elain knew what to do with, fountains and pools of water with ivy climbing the elegant columns and archways. They were positioned strategically to allow sunlight and the salty breeze to sweep in, and she could not wait to make every one of them more beautiful than the next. 

She had, of course, immediately invited Nuan to see what mechanical improvements she could think of for the Palace's irrigation systems.

“This is insanity,” Nuan said with a shake of her head, taking a look at Elain's elegant handwritten scrawled all across the parchment. 

Elain huffed, shifting in her seat. “Well, no need to be so blunt. It's merely an idea.”

“An insane idea.” Nuan put down the parchment and removed her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It has been tried before, you know? In the continent, in the long lost fae city of Ashnan.”

“I do know the legend, thank you very much. Ashnan, the City of Pillars, whose fae dug too deep and too hungrily into the sands for water to feed their mighty projects and awakened something they should not, unleashing a maelstrom that dragged the city to a grave at the core of the world.” She waved a hand, wrinkling her nose. “We were told this story as babies as a cautionary tale of greed — ours and the fae's.”

“And even though you know how Ashnan ended, you still want to try and recreate its hanging gardens?”

“I don't want to recreate the hanging gardens of Ashnan, but rather something inspired by it.” Elain picked up her teacup and sipped the warm apple tea. “Besides, the Red Palace is hardly Ashnan. There's water aplenty, no need to dig so deep, and we are not trying to commit folly against the very laws of the world. Which, I believe, might have more to do with the city's downfall than the gardens proper. But most importantly, they didn't have you to think about the mechanics of it all.”

Nuan snorted. “This is madness.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“It will take years to be completed ”

“Most likely.”

“It will also be costly.”

“Not a problem. The treasury is overflowing.” 

“And it will require the brightest, most brilliant of inventors and crafters to pull it off.”

“Good thing then she's a friend of mine and is sitting right in front of me, isn't it?” Elain set down her cup, a smile breaking across her face. 

The other female let out a deep sigh and got up, leaning over the plans and Elain's annotations with furrowed brows.

“To recreate the work of the ancients into something everlasting…” She rubbed her chin with her thumb, biting her nail, thoughtful. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Yes, that is doable, I think.”

“You will do it then?” Elain asked, eyes lighting up.

“Elain, please. I made that decision the moment you first unveiled your plans.” She smirked at Elain, playful and mischievous, the gears in her head already turning, working full speed. “You will need my special kind of magic to pull this off. Why, someone else may get it wrong.”

༻ ❁ ༺

After Lucien and Elain were well settled in the palace and the main living areas properly redecorated and renovated, Helion and Phoebe invited themselves to stay the whole week. The Day Court, Helion said, wasn't so unstable and devoid of administrative talent so as not to handle one week without its High Lord and High Lady.

Elain woke just before dawn, when the sky was still that deep, fathomless blue darker than any black, broken only by the distant reds, oranges, and purples of daybreak. Soon the sun would rise and chase the shadows away.

She was a light sleeper, had always been, and their time living in the cottage had accustomed her to rising with the birds and the wildlife. In Velaris, Elain hadn't let go of her old habits, not in the least because the early morning was the only time of the day the Inner Circle wouldn't be around and she could enjoy some moments alone with her thoughts.

Seldom did she sleep the morning away, and even rarer did she stay awake late at night: that was reserved for when there were parties and revelries. 

Elain turned on the bed, coming face to face with her mate. Lucien was still soundly asleep, shirtless, his chest rising and falling with the tranquil rhythm of his heartbeat. Much like her, he was an early riser and a light sleeper, one forged by necessity, by a lifetime on high alert, expecting a blade between his ribs.

Though he probably wouldn't wake up anytime soon today, Elain reckoned with a chuckle. Lucien had tried — and utterly failed — to beat Helion in a drinking contest and had to be carried to bed like a baby. She ought to ask Feyre to paint two canvases of the scene so she could give one to Lucien and one to Helion.

With a contented sigh, she rose, pulling away the gossamer curtains that separated her dressing room from hers and Lucien's chambers. Her handmaids were nowhere to be seen, as Elain demanded they only start fussing over her after the sun was already up and high in the sky. Mother knew that if they tried to follow Elain's sleeping schedule, they'd get no rest at all.

She grabbed her pink silk robe from a hanger put it on, tying it around the waist with a ribbon. Then, she left the room through the side door, emerging directly in front of one of her moon gardens. The sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine and the newly bloomed rhododendrons clung to the air, carried by a tranquil breeze.

Elain crossed the garden, running her fingers over the marble edges of the fountain, coming to stand at a balcony overlooking a sheer drop in the hill. Down below, the laborers were already up, all set to start harvesting the ripe grapes. She leaned on the balustrade, resting her face on her hand, and closed her eyes. 

She stood like that for a while, listening to the nightingales sing, the wind whispering as it brushed through the vines, the rushing streams sneaking through the nearby woods. 

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and she opened her eyes, turning to where they were coming from.

Helion grinned at the sight of her, shining faintly on the half-light. She smiled back in response and moved aside, making way for him to stand beside her.

“That habit of yours remains?” He inquired, searching her face.

“It seems like I'm doomed to awake at dawn or in the early morning, no matter my best efforts.” Elain lifted her shoulders, long since resigned to her fate. “And what of you? Is the Lord of Day out to bring daylight for us fae or did you just not sleep?”

“You know quite well that telling the sun when to rise and set is far beyond my powers, though I might be able to light up the night for a time if I tried hard enough,” Helion answered with a chuckle. “No, my dear. As you are doomed to awake early, so am I doomed to sleepless nights. It has grown better with my Phoebe with me but… We all have our demons.”

Elain said nothing, staring at the horizon as the light blue color of the morning skies began to emerge and the sun hung over the land like a crown, allowing a companionable, deep silence to settle between them. She could never understand the depth of Helion’s scars, torn away from his mate for centuries and trapped beneath the darkness of the middle, watching helplessly as Amarantha slaughtered his kin. Lucien still had nightmares from it; she assumed Helion did, too.

“Sometimes when it is too dark and too quiet, I fear falling asleep,” she confessed, tightening her grip on the red stone. “I keep thinking that if I sleep, he will be back, waiting in my dreams with that terrible, terrible magic of his, playing with my sense of self until I can no longer distinguish what is real and what is not.”

“Is that why you closed yourself off to your visions?” Helion asked, the famous day court curiosity getting the better of him.

“In part,” Elain admitted, “but not solely because of it. The future is always in motion, always changing. Few things are set in stone. You pull a thread and suddenly, a whole other path opens. Some futures are dreadful, nightmares only. Others are the opposite. Still, constantly seeing ahead can become a burden, and I’m done living in what-ifs and could-have-been.”

Helion threw his head back with laughter. “Who needs those when we have this moment, this beautiful palace and our mates with us, a whole future ahead? I think we are quite well served, aren’t we, my dear?”

“Yes.” She stood on the tip of her toes and breathed in, releasing the balmy air with a chuckle. “And I wouldn't change it for nothing.”

Her father-in-law watched her carefully, with slightly narrowed eyes, calculating his words.

“I wasn't going to give you both this palace, you know,” he said slowly. “I planned to give you both the Sunburst House in the eastern district, where I resided in my younger years, before the war.”

Elain furrowed her brows, head askew. “And why didn't you?”

“Lucien asked for this place instead — he thought it was fitting. You should ask him yourself why he thought that, though. Perhaps there's a reason to it you do not yet know.”

༻ ❁ ༺

“Not that I’m complaining about waking up like this, love, but would you mind explaining?” Lucien asked, mirth dancing in his russet eye.

Elain lay above him, her knees beside his torso and her long, thin, callused fingers wrapped around his hands, pinning them to the mattress just beside his ears. Her hair fell over her shoulder in unbound waves, casting a shadow over the pale skin of her shoulder blades visible from her loose silk robe. 

She didn’t look very happy though, not with her squinting brown eyes and pink mouth twisted into an annoyed pout.

“Your father said you asked for this palace for us. Why?”

“Elain!” He gasped, faking outrage. “Gossiping with my father already? So early in the morning?”

“He isn’t the one keeping secrets from his mate!”

“That you know of, perhaps.” 

Elain gasped and sat on his belly, leaning down, a flush spreading across her cheeks as she brought her nose close to his. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lucien chuckled, closing his metal eye and turning his head. “That is for you to figure out.”

“Lucien! That isn’t fair!”

“Neither is ambushing me like this, is it now?” She pressed down on him and he groaned, heat gathering between his tights. “Now you are just being mean.”

“I have a reason.” She said with a little smirk, seemingly satisfied with the reaction she elicited. “Now, the truth: why this place?”

“It has lovely gardens, it’s far enough from the city to allow us some privacy whilst being close enough to return for emergencies, the wine weather is excellent and it's a beautiful, historical building that is well suited to us.”

She rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. “Well, yes, but I already know all this. Helion wouldn’t have mentioned it to me if there wasn’t more. So please, Lucien—” Elain let go of one of his hands, placing a finger on his lips. “— won’t you tell me?”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, cursing his father inwards. Lucien had planned to tell Elain the whole story of the Red Palace eventually as a part of a grand romantic gesture to celebrate the anniversary of their mating. He still had a treasure trove of ideas for the date proper, but it would require some maneuvering and improvisation. Perhaps he ought to ask Nuan for — no, she would just murder him for the added commission in her already full agenda. Vassa and Elain’s sisters, then.

And his mother, if only so she could give Helion grief for ruining his carefully laid plans.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” he said, “but the right time to speak about it was never right. Not for me, in any case.” Lucien waited to see if she was going to say anything, but Elain only watched him with her honey gaze, patient and attentive. “Right. So, many centuries ago, long before the war, one of my ancestors, High Lord Hyperion, was arranged to marry a Princess from the continent, Nahida. Their partnership wasn’t a happy one at first. Nahida didn’t speak our dialect, nor did she know much about the Day Court and its traditions. No matter how much her husband tried, she felt like an outsider in what was supposed to be her new home.”

Elain gulped, lower lip trembling. Lucien raised his hand, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Hyperion was an honorable man, determined to keep his vows to the Mother to love and cherish his wife. But how could he, when Nahida had wrapped herself so thoroughly in her own misery, not allowing anyone close? There had to be something he could do. Hyperion went to the Oracle of Mount Astreus, the highest of peaks between Day and Night, and asked how he could show his wife his sincerity? But you know how prophecy works.”

“A riddle wrapped inside an enigma encased in a question,” she agreed with a wet laugh. 

“Yes, and one even Hyperion, with all his libraries and knowledge under his domain, couldn’t unveil. It was not until he saw Nahida gazing wistfully at a desiccated lotus, the symbol of her homeland, that he understood that more than anything, his wife missed her home. He wrote to his sister-in-law, asking for her best architects and masons. Hyperion had the Red Palace built in secret and after it was done, he brought Nahida here.”

“And what did she say? What was her reaction?”

“By then, years had passed them by and Nahida had learned the language of her new home, if not perfectly. She was speechless, at first, staring at this little piece of her homeland nestled on the slope of the hill, but when Hyperion went to his knees before his knees and poured his heart out, Nahida broke down into sobs. She threw her arms around him and they both cried for all the time they had lost. Then, they decided to make the most of the years ahead, to fill this palace with happiness and laughter and joy. My family likes to say that the magic of their promise will cling to these walls until we are no more.”

“Oh Lucien,” Elain pressed her eyes close, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“I know you didn’t. I had a whole plan to tell you about it, or at least the beginnings of one.” He offered her a tremulous smile. 

“I would have liked to see it too.” She bit her lip and glanced at him from under her thick eyelashes. “Will you pretend you never told me this story and tell me again the way you planned? All your plans for the future, all your hopes, and dreams, all the magic in these halls — will you share it with me? ” 

“Only for you, Elain,” he whispered reverently against her lips, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Only for you.” 

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucienweek2023 #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #shout out to imbutimmortal for reading this over

[ancientrome]

Wall painting on black ground: landscape, from the imperial villa at Boscotrecase. Roman, Pompeian last decade of the 1st century BCE. x

Many private summer villas were located along the coast near Naples. One of the most sumptuous must have been the villa built by Agrippa, friend of the emperor Augustus and husband of his daughter, Julia. It stood overlooking the Bay of Naples from a spot near the modern town of Boscotrecase. The villa was partially excavated between 1903 and 1905 after its accidental discovery during work on a railway. Wall decorations that still survived in four bedrooms were removed. The Metropolitan Museum acquired sections from three rooms and the Archaeological Museum at Naples received the rest.

Agrippa died in 12 B.C. and his son, Agrippa Postumus became the villa's proprietor in 11 B.C. as inscriptions found there indicate. The frescoes must have been painted during renovations begun at the time. Painted by artists working for the imperial household, they are among the finest existing examples of Roman wall painting.

The so-called Black Room was one of a sequence of bedrooms facing south toward the downward slope of the mountain and the sea. The source of light was a wide doorway giving onto a terrace or promenade.

This ambiguous and sophisticated decoration is a masterpiece of the so-called third style of Roman wall painting, which flourished during the reign of Augustus. The theme is a playful rendition of architectural motif. A low red dado serves as the base from which a skeleton of thin white columns appears to rise against a black background. There almost weightless columns support pavilions, candelabra, tripods, and a narrow cornice that runs around the room. They were embellished with jewel-like decorations. On the back wall tiny swans, the bird of Apollo, patron god of Augustus, perch improbably on threadlike spirals, and yellow panels with Egyptianizing motifs must have brought to mind the recent annexation of Egypt after the death of Cleopatra in 30 B.C. This architectural scheme creates almost no sense of depth or volume. The black walls behind appear at once to be flat and to dissolve into limitless space. Tiny landscape vignettes float like islands in the middle of this blackness. Burnished to a high polish, these walls must have appeared magical indeed when illuminated by lamps at night.

#ancient rome #rome #roman #painting #landscape #mosaic

[fukuokanodivision]

“Enough with this disorder! Let’s mix things up a little..”

Introduction

Yuno is the 3rd member of Fukuoka’s rap team, OverDrive. He’s known by his MC name “Kiiro.” A courteous; but mischievous butler, he adores his teammates and compares them to his young masters (Children he’s taken care of.) After an incident involving a hypnosis mic, Yuno is more of a slower learner and takes caution in risks he might take.

Yuno is an adult in his late 20s and is the oldest member of OverDrive. He has light blond hair and gold eyes which twinkle. He also has a helix earring on his left ear and a soft complexion.

His attire consists of a white-yellow cardigan under an undone black dress jacket. From the waist down, he wears a black/neon yellow belt, black dress pants with neon yellow trim and gold wrapping, black dress shoes and a gold bracer on his right forearm with a electric blue music note clip.

Name Meaning

Yuno- (ユノ) - ゆう (Yu) which means “Excellent” and の (No) which means “Of.”

Kamora- Malagasy name which means “Chameleon.”

Aliases

Yuno/Kamora-Eko

Yuno-chin/Mr. Butler-Mai

Ore-Pronoun

Biographical Info

Gender-Male

Age-27

Birthday-September 24th

Ethnicity-Japanese

Hair Colour-Blond

Eye Colour-Gold

Height-5,9

Weight-84kg

Star Sign-Libra

Piercings-1 gold yellow helix on left ear

Markings-None

Family-Mother, Father (Incarcerated), Grandparents, Older Brother, Older Sister.

Voiced By-Gakuto Kajiwara (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name-Kiiro

Occupation-Butler, 3rd division member

Division-Fukuoka

Position-3rd member

Favourite food-Soda

Least favourite food-Sour candies

Likes-Taking care of children, being with his teammates, lightly spoiling others.

Dislikes-Threats on the weak, being idle, arguments.

Hypnosis Microphone

Yuno’s hypnosis mic is a white/grey clip on vintage mic attached to his bracer. Once activated, his bracer shows a holographic image of his present location and many objects he’s able to use, which ties in with his rap ability.

His speakers take the form of a yellow cherry blossom tree with a circular speaker inside the trunk and mini speakers perched on the branches. There are also yellow butterflies that fly around with cubical speakers on their wings. Overall, his speakers are a huge reference to a special place in his family.

His rap ability “Shuffle” allows him to shift or shuffle any present thing made of matter (Objects, solids, liquids, gases, people, himself etc) within his line of sight. While the effects aren’t permanent, he’s able to choose whether they’re permanent or not. Out of OverDrive, his ability has the most freedom.

Personality

Yuno’s exterior is what you’d expect from a butler, A well mannered and super courteous person. He retains this demeanour when working with families he serves and has a super soft spot for children, mostly calling them “Master” and their first name or his “Masters” around other people.

While he keeps his emotions intact, his interior sometimes says otherwise. When dealing with threats toward himself, his teammates or even the weak, he has only 1 motive if things go too far, Drop everything and fight your way through. With this instinct, he has the habit of acting before thinking, which he comments is something he’s trying to get rid of every single day.

Background

TBA

Trivia

-He likes being with children, Hanging with his teammates and lightly spoiling others. While he dislikes threats on the weak, Being idle and arguments. -His favourite food is soda, While his least favourite food is sour candies. -Yuno was the one who introduced OverDrives dolphin gig. As one of his masters had one as a “friend”, he proposed the idea to Eko and Mai, leading them to develop espionage to match.

#hypmic oc

[maricoolerthanme]

𝐇𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬! 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬. <𝟑

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +400

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐦 ༉‧₊˚✧

⊹ To get to your dorm, you will have to go up one of the two staircases in the Hufflepuff Common Room, each on the opposite side of the other. They will take you to your dorms. And after going upstairs, you may find the dorm room you were given.

⊹ Upon entering your dorm, you will find a round room, with stone walls and wooden floor. With round doors and half-circled windows with yellow curtains surrounding the room, overlooking the school grounds. 

⊹ Each student has in their dorms a few beds, wooden furniture to store personal belongings, yellow and black carpets, school trunks, plants, and a stove in the centre of the room, which, if necessary, can be turned on to heat the space. Cooper lamps on their dressers and wooden boards cast a warm light in the room, and cooper bed warmers hung on the walls which made the floor warm.

⊹ There is one lavatory connected to each dorm, as well as two communal bathrooms, both on the different sides of the common room, one in the boys’ and the other in the girls’ dormitories.

⊹ You will share the dorm with 4 or 5 other students from the same house and year you’re in.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 ༉‧₊˚✧

⊹ Is individually provided for each student:

↳ A poster bed, covered in yellow curtains and yellow patchwork eiderdown quilts, and furnished with wooden bedsteads. And an owl perch on side of the bed.

↳ A school trunk at the foot of the bed, and a snuffbox on top of it for their pets.

↳ A wooden board on both sides of the bed. The student can decorate however they want.

↳ A wall mirror hung on the boards.

↳ One wooden nightstand on one side of the bed.

↳ A wooden chair and dresser near the bed, next to the nightstand.

↳ A wooden bookcase with books on top of it, on the other side of the bed.

↳ A plant holder was on the wall on one side of the bed.

↳ A small carpet next to the bed.

↳ A lamp with a lit candle.

⊹ Is provided for the 4 or 5 students in the room:

↳ A water jug, in case of any student in the room feels thirsty in the middle of the night.

↳ A centrally located stove.

↳ A wooden table in the centre of the room, on the stove’s side. With an hourglass on top of a stack of books, an open book with a self-writing quill, parchments, and a flower plant on it.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ༉‧₊˚✧

⊹ The mirrors in every bathroom are bewitched to display little encouraging messages each morning when someone looks at their reflection.

#marie posts ꒰ఎ ໒꒱ #shifting🌨 #mood board🍓 #wizarding world #shifting #mood board #hufflepuff common room #hufflepuff basement #hufflepuff #hufflepuff reader #hogwarts #hogwarts shifting #hp fandom #shifting to desired reality #shifting community #shifting blog #shifting realities #hogwarts dr #hogwarts houses #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts visualization #shifting visualization #scripting #reality shift #shiftok #hufflepuff dormitory #desired reality #hufflepuff headcanon #incorrect harry potter quotes #hufflepuff aesthetic