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keaalu · 11 months

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Secondary Trines

Everyone thought the fallout from TC and Pulsar’s affair was dealt with, but it turns out Skywarp is not so easily satisfied. (And Pulsar has a big mouth – but everyone knew that.)

Set a few dozen orns after [How Long] . Nothing explicit, fade-to-black etc., but some element of mature discussion (plus lots of manufactured melodrama and authorial fiat, WOO).

Reminder: Pulsar is a bike. As a natural consequence of this, she has a big mouth, which often runs away from her and gets her into trouble.

As a natural consequence of Skywarp being Skywarp, this is a good thing; winding her up until she blurts out something embarrassing and/or incriminating is the usual end game.

Today, the trouble is associated with an interesting revelation.

Second little reminder: Pulsar is a little femme (like, just a smidge over half Skywarp’s height). ((What can I say; I like a bit of size difference.)) (((She is also unrepentant. The fact it makes her a useful projectile at times is just something she’s had to learn to deal with.)))

---------

Night had already secured a foothold in Deixar, dressing the house in deepening shades of indigo. Everyone else had already retired to their private suites, leaving just two residents to monopolise the furniture in the atrium.

Pulsar had been dozing comfortably on the couch, sprawled out with her head on Skywarp’s shoulder. Initially reading, while he watched something she’d seen a dozen times before, until her attention began to wane and the wafer slid from her fingers, disappearing out of reach… and she decided fetching it back was too much effort and she was just too comfortable, right now. She’d let her optics go dim, all her senses softening into idle mode, and a handful of dormancy protocols had begun to come online when-

A sharp sensation in the tip of one aerial startled her bolt awake.

“Stop that!”

Skywarp huffed but obediently took his lips off her antennae. “What did I do wrong this time?”

She noticed the entertainment system had all gone offline already, and wondered how long he’d been watching her snooze and waiting for her to wake up on her own. “There’s other ways to wake me up that don’t involve biting me-”

“Yeah, but they’re not so much fun.”

“-and I was comfortable!”

“You were offline.”

“That was the point!” She brushed a hand up over her antennae, checking for new kinks; finding none, she settled, trying but failing to find that cosy position again. “I was actually enjoying just snuggling up with you, for once.”

“Enjoying it so much, you couldn’t stay awake.” He raised his voice over her protests. “It’s fine, I get it. I’m boring, now.” He was quiet for several loaded seconds before asking, in a deceptively offhand tone; “was he better than me?”

It was Pulsar’s turn to be quiet for a second. “What?” She glanced up at him.

“Thundercracker. You’ve been in a funny mood since you two finally fessed up about fragging each other.” He was staring up at the stars, sprinkling the sky above the huge glass roof. “Got me wondering if you were just trying to save my feelings, by saying it was a fling and you didn’t think about it any more.”

“…the slag did that come from, Skywarp?” She propped herself on an elbow. “I was enjoying your company! How did you get from that to, oh, I bet she’s thinking about my best friend, now.”

Lips pursed, Skywarp let his gaze drift down to meet hers. He didn’t look particularly serious about it, though – no doubt his usual flavour of insincere windup – which succeeded in rankling her temper.

She squirmed out from under his arm. “It’s not a funny mood if I just want to be able to enjoy your company without slag like you biting my aerials. It wouldn’t kill you to be tender, every now and then.”

“Like Thundercracker would be, you mean.”

“Oh, shove off, Skywarp.” She stood to face him, bad-tempered. “He’s got nothing to do with it.”

He sat up as well. “Musta been a good frag if it was twenty vorns ago and you’re still thinking about him.”

“Primus, what is your malfunction, this evening?” Pulsar threw up her hands. “I’m not thinking about him! And I’m not comparing you against him, either! Let alone based on how good a frag you think you are.” She glared, and added; “or think you aren’t, apparently.”

“Not denying that you do think he’s better than me, then.” Skywarp vented a melodramatic sigh. “Anyone else would wanna take the chance to prove me wrong.”

“Mercy!” She covered her face with one hand and growled something incoherently obscene. “You're both gorgeous and I'd have the pair of you at once in a heartbeat if I didn't think I'd lose both of you just by suggesting it-!”

She visibly stiffened at realising what she’d blurted out full volume, optics brightening to such a humiliated cyan-white it was a wonder they didn’t short out altogether.

They just stared at each other for several long seconds, with the words just… hanging there, between them.

Skywarp’s brows had come up in a very steep arch, but his expression otherwise remained inscrutable.

Pulsar let her head hang. “Guess I'll go make myself comfy in dorms.”

“Hey. No.” Skywarp caught her arm before she could disappear. “Just… run that past me again.”

“What? No!” She jerked backwards on her arm but couldn’t quite get enough co-ordination together to extract it from his grip. “Are you telling me you didn’t immediately commit every word to your long-term memory? I am not repeating myself.” Her field felt scorching hot. “Certainly not for your amusement. Now let me go.”

“Aw, but I thought you liked it when I embarrass you,” he teased, pulling her into the circle of his arms.

“That’s different.”

“Howso?”

She closed her fingers into fists against his armour. “I'm trying to be serious here.”

“Uh-huh, me too.” He strummed a thumb down over her antennae.

She sighed, frustrated, and let her helm bonk down on his chassis. “You’re an infuriating glitch, sometimes. Being annoyed with myself and not in the mood to play with you doesn’t mean it’s because I suddenly want to get intimate with your wingmate instead.”

“…again.”

“Will you just stop.” She gave him a thump. “That’s not fair. I know we hurt you and I’m sorry, but you were dead, when it happened. Please stop making me feel like you want me to choose between you.”

He gave her a look with the most theatrically hangdog expression she had ever seen. “You do love him still, then.”

“Of course I do. We went through a lot together. I’d have never got out of Egypt in one piece, without him. He’s one of my best friends. But it’s not the same sort of love that we have.” She huffed hot air in a frustrated snort. “For one, he doesn’t send me obscene images of what he wants to do to me, or find the most inappropriate time of day to do it.”

Skywarp didn’t quite manage to successfully swallow the little triumphant ha! that leaped unbidden to his vocaliser. He made an abortive attempt to cover it with a cough of static.

“And that wasn’t what I meant, anyway, you obnoxious fraghead. You know you’re the one who wriggled his way under my armour, for reasons I absolutely cannot fragging understand, right now. You know how important you are in my life. You changed my life in a million amazing ways and I wouldn’t change you for the universe, but Primus if you aren’t the most frustrating aft I have ever met at times as well.” She stepped back half a pace, leaning into his laced fingers. “Now are you going to get off me, or do I have to sock you properly.”

He offered an exaggeratedly woeful little sigh and let his arms drop to dangle at his sides. “Fine. You wanna go be melodramatic, don’t let me stop you.”

She stepped free of his grasp, and resumed her flounce to the door.

He called after her; “What you said before. About the… both at once part… Do you ever actually… you know. Imagine doing it?”

She hesitated near the doorway. The silence clung on for long enough that it gave all the answer anyone could have needed, but she finally spoke. “…occasionally.” She flashed him a glare, optics like icy chips of temper. “But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a stupid fantasy. All right? It’s stupid. I’m stupid.” She barged the door open with her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

Disappointed, he watched her go; the streetlights glittered against her neon chequers and turned her into an abstract little ghost in the gloom.

Clearly this was not the good sort of embarrassed. He’d have to fix that.

-----

Night had fully sunk its teeth into the district when the boring square outline of Central station finally loomed up in front of her. Pulsar stomped past the front desk and ignored the desk sergeant’s attempt at a friendly greeting, and ducked into the dormitory block, going straight to the registry to see what options were available.

…aaaand it looked like home for the night was going to be whichever spare chair she could find.

Again.

She sighed, turned away and trundled wearily down the empty corridor. Had this stupid fragup happened earlier, she could have stood a chance at one of the spare berths in dorms. Mid-shift, though, and everywhere was already occupied.

Next time, she’d just… deactivate her vocaliser altogether, she figured. Rather than get needled into losing her temper and letting her big mouth run away from her. Again.

The couch in the corner of the officer’s mess was thankfully empty. (She wasn’t sure where else she’d have gone, if not. She was absolutely not going to camp out behind the intake desk in custody. Or in an empty cell.)

She let her motors unwind, plopping heavily down on the reinforced foam with a low whoomph of air. As couches went, it was… well, comfortable enough. So long as you weren’t hoping for too much. Someone considerably senior to her (and evidently never having been forced to recharge here) had ‘generously’ got it reupholstered, as well, so the cushions were annoyingly harder than she remembered. Not beaten to yielding softness by vorns of abuse from her friends and colleagues.

She scrunched a foil around her shoulders and tucked up into the corner, setting up a proximity alert so if anyone sat on her she’d have proof it was intentional; then shut off her optics, and initiated the first of her recharge protocols.

The last thought that flashed through her awareness before she successfully managed to switch off was of two pairs of wings, turning away from both her and from each other, and of being completely incapable of working out which set she should follow.

-----

Thundercracker was first to rouse, when morning finally rolled around. Skywarp followed him down not long after – unexpectedly alone.

It was… unusual, to have an empty seat at the table, but perhaps Pulsar had been called in early. Thundercracker didn’t pay it much attention; wouldn’t be the first time. The quiet made a nice change of pace, anyway. He called up the news on his wafer and got comfortable to read.

He got halfway through the headlines before the silence grew a little too heavy. Skywarp was never normally this quiet unless something was on his mind.

Thundercracker glanced up, and found his wingmate watching him, unexpectedly; optics subtly narrowed, head propped on one hand, twiddling a cube on one of its points with the other. Said cube was still almost full so he was obviously preoccupied.

“Is everything all right?” Thundercracker prompted, warily. “What’s with the intense scrutiny, this morning.”

“Had a lot to think about, before I managed to get offline last night. Still working through it at the moment.”

Thundercracker put the news to one side. “Did you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help.”

“Depends. Maybe.”

It was apparently one of those mornings. “Well you obviously do, or you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

“Fine.” Skywarp let his cube drop flat against the tablet again. “I was just wondering, if I look at you long enough… I might be able to spot what it is that Squeaky sees in you.”

“What?” It took an instant to parse the words, but Thundercracker visibly drooped. “Aw, come on, Warp. I thought we were done talking about this? We told you, we separated long before you came back. We’re not interested in pursuing anything intimate.”

“That’s why she said she wanted to interface with you again, huh.” The challenge in Skywarp’s voice had grown more overt.

“Uh.” Thundercracker licked his lips, uneasily. “…she said that?”

“Last night. Uh-huh.”

Well, that would explain the empty chair, at least.

And yet in spite of being his usual belligerent self, Skywarp didn’t seem angry. Just sharp, and challenging, in that way he got when he was determined to get an answer out of someone.

That someone wasn’t usually Thundercracker, though.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Warp. I can’t speak for her, but it’s never come up in conversation since you first found out. There’s been no reason for it to? We were being honest when we said we hadn’t continued anything.” But the longer the teleport stared silently into him, with those pursed lips and narrowed optics, the more off-balance (and slightly cross) he felt. “This is ridiculous, Skywarp. It was vorns ago! You know we wouldn’t suddenly choose to go behind your wings now.”

“Not denying that you’d like to though, huh. Interesting.”

“What? Primus. How did you get there from what I just said?” Thundercracker put his hands up. “You know what, this conversation is over. I can’t speak for Pulsar, and I don’t know why she said that, or if you’ve just… misinterpreted her, again. But I’m not playing along and letting you box me into a corner about something I haven’t done. Or said. Or thought. All right? Now if you’ll excuse me,” he turned his attention back on his flask, “I’d like to finish this? Because some of us have work to go to.”

“Sure, sure.” Skywarp watched as he picked up the wafer and glared thoroughly at the headlines, just to make it clear how extra done he was with this conversation. “Okay, anyway, fine. Confession time.” The teleport leaned forwards onto his elbows, features softening just a tiny bit. “I might not have been completely honest with you.”

Thundercracker paused with his flask midway to his mouth. “…go on?”

“I was trying to get her a bit fired up, right? I guess I thought I was just teasing, and she’d be all, right, time to prove him wrong! And she kinda… came out with something I wasn’t expecting.”

“I will never understand your idea of foreplay, but fine. Situation normal. What turned that into… whatever this big drama is?”

“So, what she actually said. Was.” Skywarp studied his interlaced fingers, where they rested on the table. “I'd have both of you at once, if the option was there.”

Thundercracker promptly choked on his energon.

“And yeah so ok, she didn’t really say it, as much as just…” Skywarp wafted his hands. “Vomit the words out and instantly look like she wanted the planet to swallow her.”

“So why are you telling me?” Thundercracker finally wheezed, once he’d managed to cough the last few drops out of his air intakes.

“Beeecause… I guess…” Skywarp offered a see-sawing sort of shrug. “I wanted to see if you wanted to?”

Thundercracker stared at him for a very long time.

Eventually he came up with a very inadequate: “What?”

“I thought it was a pretty straightforward question.”

Thundercracker made sure he’d put his flask down, just in case of any other bombshells. “After that time we spilled our sparks to you, and absolutely put ourselves through the mill in the process… You’re asking me if I want to interface with her. With your permission??”

“Not my permission, mech. With me. Together.”

In spite of it being physiologically impossible, it still looked like Thundercracker had paled. “…what?”

“You sure you should be downstairs yet, mech?” Skywarp waved a hand in front of his wingmate’s face. “Not really woken up yet, by my reckoning.”

Thundercracker grabbed the distracting hand and pinned it against the table. “With me. I did hear you right, right? With me. As in, both of us. At the same time.”

Skywarp smiled disarmingly. “Right. Humans call it a threesome.”

“A three-…” Thundercracker opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing adequate seemed to want to come out. He quietly sagged against the chair’s backrest. “We’ve been trine for millennia. Is-is this something you’ve thought about before? Like, are you only just now telling me… you’ve wanted to do this… all that time? And I’ve just… what. Missed it? Never spotted it? Not even a hint?”

“Naw.” Skywarp’s features creased in that silly smile that crinkled his nose (and Thundercracker knew usually got Pulsar swooning. It… was kinda attractive). “I’d have told you long before now if I had. I guess she just got me curious?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah? I mean, why not? I know we’re both gorgeous.” Skywarp flattened his hand against his cockpit, fingers splayed, and Thundercracker couldn’t help the little snort of laughter. “You’ve never been interested to see what it’d be like?”

“Well-… no, honestly? You’re trine, Warp. The idea of interfacing with you has not once ever crossed my processor.”

One brow came up in an arch as if to say oh really. Skywarp sipped (intentionally causally) at his cube.

“I mean it!” Why did he suddenly feel so flustered. “A-aside from maybe… once. Thousands of vorns ago. We weren’t trine then. And then a war got in the way. Remember that part?”

“Pssh. Plenty of romantic trines out there, even if we never did.” Skywarp paused for effect. “…yet.”

Thundercracker rested his head against his folded hands. “I can’t believe you’re actually genuinely trying to talk me into this.”

“Why not?” Skywarp shuffled his chair closer around the table, and claimed one of his wingmate’s hands with his own. “It’d be fun!”

Thundercracker gave him a flat look. “‘Fun’.”

“Yeah. You know. That thing neither you nor Screamer know how to do any more.”

Thundercracker gave him a shove.

“Seriously.” Skywarp scooted back, and closer, this time. “So what if we’re wingbros. This is a thing we like doing, and you’re our friend. Pulse might not have suggested it on purpose, but friends share nice things with each other, and I thought: yeah, okay.” They were almost nose-to-nose, by now. He dropped his voice an octave or so. “…and you really are pretty attractive, into the bargain.”

Thundercracker snorted a laugh. “Colours aside, we’re identical, you vain glitch.”

Skywarp snickered. “Yeah but I never normally see me from this angle.”

“Are you sure Pulsar is all right with it?”

This time Skywarp did look a little sheepish. “Well I, uh, kinda haven’t seen her since she got mad at me and stomped off last night. I think she stayed in dorms. I haven’t actually told her I was gonna talk to you, yet.”

“Only because she’d have told you not to,” Thundercracker growled. “And you better not be using me as a way to apologise to her, either.” He sighed and let his forehead come to rest against his wingmate’s. “…can I think about it?”

“Sure.” Skywarp kissed his nose, playfully. “I can wait.”

-----

When Pulsar was uncharacteristically late to the daily pre-shift briefing, their boss dispatched one of her siblings to go looking for her.

Following her private signal, the eternally-elegant Longbeam tracked her down in the canteen. Pulsar looked somewhat frazzled; antennae askew, optics not quite at full brightness, and still covered in yesterday’s scuffs, contemplating her energon as though hoping to glean the meaning of life from the depths of the flask.

Longbeam slid into the chair opposite. “What happened to you.”

“No spare dorms. Stayed on the couch.”

“And there was me thinking you had a massive house – and a bunch of pretty seekers to go with it – out in the nice part of the city.”

Pulsar glared up from under hooded brows. “Those ‘pretty seekers’ are why I ended up sleeping on the couch. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh-ho.” Longbeam’s optics twinkled. “Say no more, sister. I wondered why you still looked so tired.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that.”

“Nothin’.” The tall bike gestured airily with her long, slim hand. “Crash with me and Vecks, next time. If nothing else, our couch is infinitely superior. You can fantasise all you like and no-one will interrupt.”

Pulsar swatted her hand away, and her sister snickered. “Why are you even here, Beemer.”

“Because you’re late to work?”

…Well done. Go draw a bit more attention to yourself, why don’t you. Idiot. Pulsar vented a long sigh and let her head clonk down against the table.

“So preoccupied that you flat out forgot why they make us come to this dump on the regular, huh,” Longbeam drawled. “Need me to go make some excuses to Nightsun for you?”

“No.” Pulsar’s words came out muffled by the tabletop. “Pass me a lid for my flask…”

In reality, nobody paid the two bikes the slightest bit of attention as they navigated the busy corridors, but Pulsar’s imagination was already in overdrive, (un)happily assuming everyone was talking about her. Why’s she still so scruffy / didn’t take a bath / stayed here overnight / have they separated / what did she do to upset him / really hope I don’t miss out on the juicy gossip. She kept her shoulders round and avoided eye contact.

Nightsun pinged a quick greeting as Pulsar slunk in and found a seat at the back of the meeting area, but otherwise didn’t break his flow, assigning cases and talking through the orn’s operations. She appreciated the discretion.

When Thundercracker drifted past on the way to his office, looking… distant, and distracted, for reasons she strongly suspected she knew… she slumped all the way down on her chair until she could hide behind Longbeam, and quietly took her beacon right off the grid. Just while he was in the vicinity. Just to avoid any awkward conversations in public. Just until she’d squared things up in her own mind.

This is such a screwup.

Eventually Pulsar’s shift ended and she’d run out of data to upload and reports to write and there came a point where she couldn’t justify loitering purposelessly at work any longer. And Longbeam kept giving her funny, knowing looks, so it would only be a matter of time before Pulsar ended up giving her an incriminating punch in the head. She left the building the most circuitous way she could find and skulked home with her tail between her legs, rehearsing over and over in her head what she was going to say to Skywarp. She’d not heard from him all day and didn’t really know what that meant.

I love you and can we forget I said anything.

…You spent all day thinking about it and that was the best you could come up with?

She settled uncomfortably in their lounge, on the edge of the couch under the house-maple, trying to concentrate on her datapad. She’d never really been that bothered that her feet didn’t reach the floor until now, when it felt like it might impinge on her ability to make a quick exit.

Across the room, the news unexpectedly clicked on, making her jump. Footsteps approached.

…and it wasn’t Skywarp. She swallowed the curse before it could escape.

Thundercracker settled intentionally nearby. She tried to ignore his proximity – and the way he was watching her read – but there was something off about his manner that was making the back of her helm prickle with a sort of anxious anticipation.

It was when he shifted slightly to artfully prop his head against one hand, still watching her, that she realised the game was indeed up.

She looked up and met his gaze, and immediately deflated. “…he told you,” she said, flatly.

At least he was smiling – and not in a mocking way, but a small, affectionate smile. “He did.”

She muttered something quiet that Thundercracker didn’t manage to parse, but sensed was probably pretty vulgar. “I might kill him.”

“I might hold him down for you!” He chuckled. “After I figure out which bit of this ridiculousness surprises me more – the fact you thought he might not, or the fact you’re surprised he did.”

His fingers drifted down over her antennae, trailing imaginary sparks all the way, and her fans hitched. She jerked her head away, frustrated. “This wasn’t fun to start with but it’s definitely not fun now you’re both sucking my sump.” She slid off the chair and made a break for the exit. “I thought better of you.”

He put out a hand and blocked her way as she went to pass him. “Didn’t you only just get home?”

“Yeah.” She looked down and watched as his fingers came up to softly encircle her wrist. “If I go now, there might still be some spare berths left. I’m not spending the night on that nasty hard couch again. And definitely not going to crash with Beemer, who can’t wait to rub it in-”

He kept his grip gentle – made sure she knew she could have stepped away any second she wanted, if she genuinely wanted out – but didn’t let go. “Why?”

“Really?” She gave him a tired glare. “Come on. Warp gets me to blurt out stupid, embarrassing garbage, shares the worst of it with you, and you wonder why I feel like I can’t face you right now. The last I need is for you to join in with mocking me.”

“I’m not teasing. I promise.” His smile widened, just a touch. He gave her hand a very gentle tug and she sagged into his lap.

“Well this isn’t fair,” she said, flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to apologise.” Her fans had already picked up speed. Her antennae prickled, like someone had connected them to a lightning rod and a thunderstorm was brewing outside. “I get it! I have a big mouth and no filter and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Maybe.” Thundercracker lowered his voice to a particularly pleasant rumble. “But I’m glad you did.”

It felt like someone had stolen all the air from the room. “…what?”

Pulsar realised she’d wound her field so tightly around herself, she almost missed it when the third person joined the room. A bolt of electric alarm shot right up her back and she froze.

Skywarp sat down on his knees in front of the couch, caging Pulsar at the centre of a circle of arms. “So are we doing this, or what.”

She refused to meet either of their stares, shocked and stiff. “Doing what.”

“Well someone said something about having us both at once.”

Oh mercy. Pulsar covered her face with both hands; felt like her field was on fire. “You’re a teasing pair of glitches.” Her words came out strangled and staticky. “You shouldn’t say things like that unless you mean it.”

Thundercracker leaned down; let his helm bump gently against hers. “Who says we don’t?” he said, softly. “We know you want to.”

“Just because I want-… I-” She let her head turn subtly to the side, until she could just meet the muted garnet of his optics. “I don’t want to hurt you. It was a stupid, unguarded comment-”

“We’ve all said something stupid and unguarded at some point. But now it’s in the open, and we can do something about it.”

Skywarp was leaning in, as well, now. “You left me plenty of thinking time when you flounced last night. Me and TC discussed it…”

“…and that made for an interesting orn…” Thundercracker added, dryly.

“…and we decided, yeah. We’re both up for it. Let’s see what it would be like.” Skywarp pressed in closer “I think it’ll be fun.”

“But you can say no. That’s fine too.”

They were both so intoxicatingly close she could barely think straight. There was no way this could be real. Perhaps she was still offline, scrunched up and uncomfortable and stress-dreaming in the canteen. She scrambled for something that might bring back reality. “This can’t-.. I-I don’t want to hurt you. What if it makes things… awkward, or you fall out, or-… I would never forgive-”

“It won’t.” Thundercracker dipped his helm, until his lips were microns from hers, easily close enough to steal a kiss. “After forgiving all the slag we’ve done to each other during the war… why would an expression of love hurt us like that?”

She could feel the subtle movement of the air as he spoke. So close.

So close.

“But, if you really don’t-”

“Yes.” She dimmed her optics, and breathed the words against him. “I do. Please, Primus; yes.”

Skywarp snrk-ed, then leaned all the way in and tightened his grip on them both.

A sensation of cold and freefall and of being in two places at once-

-and suddenly the lounge was empty.

-----

The first subtle blues of early dawn streamed in through the crack in the blind, slicing the room into a collection of shadows. Pulsar was first to stir, nudged awake by an internal alarm, and the reluctant knowledge that she had a shift coming up. She allowed herself an indulgent few seconds of stillness, to figure out exactly where she was – and more importantly, with whom.

It hadn’t been a dream, then.

Sensation slowly came back to her tired processors, as each individual module booted reluctantly back up. She felt sore, and stiff, and… weirdly stretched… and completely powerless to move, sandwiched between two large, heavy, affectionate bodies.

And… she found she really didn’t care, actually? It was a good sore. It came with quiet and calm and contentment, all folded up in a soft nimbus of protection and affection.

Would be nice to stay like this forever, actually.

She called up her memory record, just soaking in the remembered pleasure, for a little while. Thinking about those careful, cautious little experimental touches, working out each other’s boundaries and individual hotspots… Of trying really hard to give as good as she got, but also of being trapped at the epicentre of a tornado, swept along, ultimately able to do nothing except surrender control and enjoy the ride.

Then, when she was too sore and exhausted to do anything more, just… laying to watch, and purr contentedly, enjoying vicariously as they explored each other, in ways that were simultaneously completely alien (those wings, oh Primus those wings), and also so unbelievably familiar she could almost feel it.

Yeah; mmh, that had been good, too. Particularly good. She shivered at the memory, filing it carefully away, wondering if she’d ever be able to get Warp making those same soft little noises of pleasure and need that he’d wrung from Thundercracker.

She turned her attention quietly to her berthmates.

Skywarp was an untidy sprawl, of course, because when wasn’t he. Limbs and wings at all angles, as though he’d just been dropped there from a great height. His cheek pressed heavily against the top of her helm, though, and the arm on which she lay was bent around just enough for his fingers to rest on her hip.

The smudge of blue on the other side, in the periphery of her vision, was a less familiar sight to wake up to, but… welcome. It also revealed the source of the weight resting on her shoulder. One big wing protruded into her field of view, like a shield against the world. Thundercracker’s free arm stretched all the way across both of them; possessive, protective.

She managed to wriggle one arm free, and stroked the pale cheek pressed against her shoulder.

It took several seconds for Thundercracker’s optics to respond, and they remained dim, but his features softened into a smile. “Good morning.” His voice was thick, and distorted, but comfortable – as though he’d quite happily let his mind slip back into idle and stay that way for the whole orn.

“Very good morning, from my perspective.” She kept her fingers against his cheek and purred quietly as he leaned into the touch. “I was worried I just dreamed it.”

He harmonised his purr with hers. “I’m glad you didn’t. Thanks for including me.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to come.”

Thundercracker gave an involuntary little snrk, and they shared a tired giggle.

“Those were some interesting noises he got you making last night,” Pulsar added.

A little flicker of mixed amusement and embarrassment danced through the blue seeker’s field. “All that practice he’s had with you probably helped.” He stretched his shoulders, subtly, looking for a slightly more comfortable position. “…and I guess I needed it. It’s been a while.”

She pressed a little kiss to his brow. “I’d like to think maybe this doesn’t need to have been a one-off,” she suggested, carefully. “If you’d be interested.”

He brought his own hand up, and coaxed her closer for a proper kiss; her fingers threaded between his, pulling tighter against him.

“Definitely interested,” he murmured, letting his lips linger close to hers when they finally parted. “And flattered that you’d like to share.”

Her words came out underlaid with a subtle static. “You’re absolutely worth it.”

He chuckled. “And how long have you been fantasising about Warp and me together?”

Pulsar smiled and glanced away, optics brightening. “I stand by my assessment. You look so good,” she husked, drawing little wispy fingertip lines against his helm. “But who wants to just watch. Being involved with the two people I love most in the universe is better.”

He hummed his amusement, and let his head come back down onto her shoulder, at just the right angle to encourage those pleasant little doodles to continue.

All too soon, a reflected beam of strengthening sunlight had found its way through the nearby buildings, and lanced straight into his optics. Thundercracker grimaced and flinched his face subtly out of its line of fire, then sighed. “This is probably fate’s way of saying I should be starting to think of going to work, about now.”

“Call in sick,” Skywarp said, muffled and distorted; Pulsar hadn’t even realised he was awake, and if his volume were anything to go by, he was only just.

“Thank you for the tip, but some of us are meant to be setting an example.” Thundercracker pushed himself partially upright, and grunted softly. “Oof. Even if they’d rather stay here all orn. Until all their cable tensions rebalance.” But he soon succumbed to gravity, sagging back to his elbows. “Primus, ow. I am amazed you two can ever walk, if this is what the two of you get up to on a regular basis.”

Pulsar felt her optics brighten, and audibly rebooted her vocaliser to cover the embarrassed giggle. “Practice, remember?”

“They’ll survive without you for half an orn, TC,” Skywarp added, sleepily. “You’re the boss. You write the rules.”

Thundercracker dithered for several very long seconds, under the expectant weight of his friends’ combined stare.

“Maybe just another couple of breems won’t hurt,” he accepted, tiredly reorganising his bulk so he wasn’t pinning them quite so completely – but keeping that possessive arm around them.

…by the end of the first breem, he was clearly dozing contentedly again, growing heavier as systems went dormant, and by breem two was completely offline again, fans cycling with a low, quiet purr of satisfaction.

“So much for setting an example,” Skywarp observed, quietly, voice still muzzy. “I guess he never said what sort of example.”

“Aw, leave him in peace. He deserves at least one morning off for once in his life.” Pulsar gave his nose a little flick. “What about us?”

“Stay here as well, I guess.” Skywarp grunted and after a little ineffectual squirming managed to fold her a little deeper into his arms. “Seeing as we can’t get up anyway, looks like we have the boss’s permission for a lay in.”

“Probably imprudent to go to work with paintstrikes in his colours, as well.” Pulsar examined a little azure scuff on the teleport’s obsidian enamel. “Would you take a bath with me?”

“Guess I can indulge you, this once.” Skywarp remained silent for several loaded seconds before speaking again. “And fine. You were right.”

“…What?”

“…He is a better frag than me.”

Pulsar tried unsuccessfully to smother him with a pillow.

---------------

If you need a soundtrack to this, I guess it’d be this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSRYvYN1ayw (Górecki, by Lamb. One of my absolute favourites of all time)

(Yes OK I posted this to AO3 MONTHS ago. I’m still catching up with posting stuff here...)

#skywarp #thundercracker #pulsar #trine #short fic #blue au #transformers #there's probably better tags but i don't tumblr well

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blue-inferno · 2 years

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Short angsty Wheeljack x Bulkhead fic coming very soon.....

you may need some tissues or something.....

#transformers #transformers prime #bulkhead #wheeljack #fanfic #short fic #updates #blue inferno updates

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scentedpoetrywitch · 5 months

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artfire is one of the most saddistic woman who came in front of both blurr and ultra magnus except they have been defend by inferno and red alert from herself with her partner in crime . she;s short but shorter than arcee and 1 inches taller than amphi trite and she's mostly childish at each point .

#artfire transformers #blue robot #gorgeous woman #very short woman

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queenimmadolla · 11 months

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝

Summary: . . . you're drunk off your ass and your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, has to chase you down. that's it.

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐥, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

“Eddddiiiiee,” you whined, trying to break out of the iron hold around your waist but no matter how much you pulled on your boyfriend’s arms, he wouldn’t release you.

“Baaaaaby!” He mocked, arms tightening around you as he pulled your back to his chest, eyes searching through the crowd to see if Harrington had gathered the rest of your rag tag group of friends.

The lot of you had been invited to a rager thrown by one of Argyle’s friends. You’d also neglected to mention to Eddie that you’d magically forgotten to eat more than a party sized bag of chips the entire day, so with three shots and a couple of strong mixed drinks in you, you were drunk. Very, sloppily, adorably drunk.

Eddie followed you around when you became impatient with him, huffing and puffing anytime you saw him because you knew he’d prevent you from getting more drunk—sure enough, he’d swoop in and take away any bottle, cup or drink you’d get your hands on.

He had made one crucial mistake though, having decided you were done for the night and with Robin throwing up a bright blue liquid—it was time to go. Eddie had had a twelve second conversation with Steve in which he would go and find Jonathan and Nancy, taking Robin with him.

When Eddie turned back to you, you were hastily shoving something in your mouth, something small enough to be concealed between your fingers.

“No, no, no!” He rushed over, taking your face in a hand and gently squeezing your cheeks to try to get you to open your mouth but it was too late, whatever pill it was, you had already swallowed, “Baby, what did you just put in your mouth?”

You giggled, pleased to be causing him a little trouble and made kissy faces at him instead of answering.

He sighed, wrapping his arms around you while he glared at everyone else.

Speed. Where the fuck did you even get it???

And that’s how you found yourself imprisoned in his arms, patience once more dwindling due to the cotton candy haze of your mind and the energy filling your body.

Eddie could feel your jitters and chanced a glance down at your shoes to confirm they hadn’t magically transformed into a pair of sneakers you could run off in. He’d made it a rule you couldn’t wear a pair if you’d be drinking (yeah, this wasn’t the first time you’d try to flee from him, drunk off your ass, and no, you didn’t do it all the time), and he was relieved the pair of short heels were still in place.

“Please, can you let me go?” You craned your neck back to pout up at him, eyes big as you peered at him from under your lashes.

You were too fucking cute for your own good.

The answer to your question was still no, he’d never let you go but you wouldn’t like that answer right now, so instead he said, “As soon as we’re home, sweet thing.”

That was not the answer you wanted to hear, either, and you scowled, slouching back into him as you glared at nothing.

Eddie was pleased when Steve, Nancy and Jonathan (carrying a passed out Robin over his shoulder) appeared in the crowd, making their way towards the pair of you.

When they got close, Nancy tripped and Eddie dove forward to catch her before she could meet the ground.

“Whoa, Wheeler!” He laughed as he helped her rise and steady, “Forgot how uncoordinated you are with some liquor in you.”

“The sad thing is I’m not even that drunk,” She admitted, grateful she hadn’t been subjected to the stickiness of the floor.

“Thanks Eddie,” Jonathan shifted Robin a little over his shoulder, trying not to touch her too much since she was prone to having physical reactions and he didn’t want to be punched in the face, “Can we leave now?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Eddie turned back to you, ready to throw you over his shoulder if he needed to and his mouth dropped open, eyes widening when the spot you’d occupied, literally not even 10 inches away, was empty.

Well, not completely.

The group looked down at the floor to see your heels left behind.

Eddie’s head darted towards the front door just in time to see you escape out of it.

“Oh, shit, not again!”

Eddie swooped up your heels and ran after you, bashing into bodies on the way before he finally made it out of the doorway to see you sprinting across the lawn, your laughter ringing in the night air and he quickly gave chase.

“BABY! BABY, STOP!”

You didn’t stop, having the time of your life as the need to flee from him became more urgent. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just nice to feel like the main character having a little silly, goofy moment and you wouldn’t feel silly and goofy when your boyfriend would be having you drink a ton of water to flush the fun from your system!

“No, I’m fast! Gotta go!” You called over your shoulder, still laughing as you met the asphalt of the street, lungs and legs doing a surprisingly good job at keeping you going and ahead of him.

Eddie kept going too, though he felt the burn of it, chest already heaving but he feared where your drunk ass could possibly end up if he gave up and stopped.

“BABY, I AM BEGGING YOU, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, STOP RUNNING!”

He chased you down several streets, through lawns— apparently you were suddenly good at parkour, jumping over children’s toys and playsets he crashed into—and just when he was finally beginning to think you’d never stop, you started to slow.

Not because you wanted to stop the game or anything, you’d just spent your time running away from your boyfriend thinking about how cute he was. And so sweet and good to you. You longed for him. He always took care of you—drunk or not—gave you tons of smooches, held you whenever you were near, went in search of you when you weren’t, peppered your face in kisses like Pepe Le Pew did to that cat he was always chasing around in the Looney Tunes cartoons and professing his love for you in a shitty French accent, and he always cuddled with you, giving you head scratchies while the two of you lay in bed.

WAIT.

You’d get cuddles, kisses and head scratchies tonight!!!!!

You’d slowed in your thought process, and suddenly you’d gone from eager to get away from Eddie for no real reason, to desperate to be in his arms so you turned around and ran towards him.

Eddie hadn’t been expecting that, the two of you collided, but he wrapped his arms around you to keep you from toppling over.

See??? You knew he’d hold you.

“Gandalf the freaking Grey, baby, you are trouble and too damn fast,” he heaved out, arms tightening as he smashed you to his chest for a tight hug, the hand not clutching your heel straps cradling the back of your head. Eddie was relieved to have you safe in his arms again.

“I’m fast as fuck, I’m a track star,” you chirped, nuzzling happily into the crook of his neck and making it hard for him to be even a little upset with you.

“No you’re not and no more running,” You made a sound of surprise as he quite literally swept you off your feet and carried you back to the house party you fled from, bridal style.

You didn’t fight him, keen on pressing kisses to his neck, pretty face and just about anywhere your lips could reach.

Halfway there, you ran into Steve and Jonathan practically limping. Both were heaving and covered in sweat, the front of their shirts stained dark with it.

“Oh, thank god! No more running. My side hurts, I think I popped something.” Steve said between gaps of panting.

Jonathan couldn’t even speak, the poor guy looked like he was ready to collapse.

“Where are the girls?”

“On. Front. Lawn.” Jonathan finally wheezed out, they’d left Robin snoozing in Nancy’s lap on the lawn while they ran to help (but not really) Eddie catch you.

When you were finally home, squeaky clean after a shared shower with Eddie—you still seemed to have enough energy for one due to your high, though the alcohol was making you a little sleepy—and you were in bed, curled into him with your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck as his fingers massaged your scalp and nearly put you in a coma, he mumbled, “You little shit.”

You giggled, eyes still shut as his chest shook beneath you with his own chuckles.

“You still love me?”

“Always,” Then, after a brief and comfortable silence, “Baby, you should’ve been on the track team.”

“Mmm, I don’t really like running.”

And again, “You little shit!”

#eddie munson x reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic

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hamletteprinceofdenmark · 9 months

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Aside from the everything else about it, changing twitter’s name to X is just so … short sightedly juvenile?

Like, it’s got the energy of a nine year old calling their superhero villain X-Corp “cause it sounds cool.”

Because X as a letter is cool, it’s unique and rarely used in English because it has a very narrow purpose and sound that doesn’t get used often in everyday speech. It catches the ear … but that’s kind of all it does.

“Twitter” works as a company name, because it rolls off the tongue and, as a bonus, works etymologically. To “twit” or “be a twit” is to be silly, foolish, meaningless — the original purpose of twitter before it became one of the most essential and transformative social media platforms in terms of spreading news quickly and concisely in times of chaos and disaster (and I’m also not about to pretend that twitter has not, on the whole, remained silly, foolish, and meaningless). To “tweet” makes sense to the English brain wonderfully. It expresses exactly what it means. There is no doubt in my mind that it’s name and the way it could be adapted so easily into the language played markably into the platform’s remarkable success.

And how does “X” work in that context? How does “X” work, linguistically? Short answer, it doesn’t. It literally can’t, because of how X is used in the language. We literally use that letter to mark nothing, negative, a blank or rejected space. It represents void. And the way we say it and use it reflects that.

To say you “x’d” something means you ruled it out. You rejected it. Unmade it. It’s quite literally the opposite of creation and creativity. Of generation. On a platform that relies on creativity and constantly generating content.

Every roll out has emphasised how Elon insists on continuing to limit the use of the site, Twitter Blue, maximum posts sighted, I just saw he’s limiting the amount of times you can DM someone.

It’s become an anti-social site, being killed slowly from the inside like a mindless and completely ignorant rot.

#twitter #x #elon musk #language #linguistics

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 3 months

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Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher 1931

"Minnie the Moocher" is a jazz-scat song first recorded in 1931 by Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, selling over a million copies and was the biggest chart-topper of that year. "Minnie the Moocher" is most famous for its nonsensical ad libbed ("scat") lyrics. In performances, Calloway would have the audience and the band members participate by repeating each scat phrase in a form of call and response, eventually making it too fast and complicated for the audience to replicate. The song is based lyrically on Frankie "Half-Pint" Jaxon's 1927 version of the early 1900s vaudeville song "Willie the Weeper".

"Minnie the Moocher" was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999, and in 2019 was selected for preservation in the National Recording Registry as "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress.

In 1978, Calloway recorded a disco version of "Minnie the Moocher" on RCA Records which reached number 91 on the Billboard R&B chart. "Minnie the Moocher" has been covered or simply referenced by many other performers. Its refrain, particularly the call and response, is part of the language of American jazz. At the Cab Calloway School of the Arts, which is named for the singer, students perform "Minnie the Moocher" as a traditional part of talent showcases.

In 1932, Calloway recorded the song for a Fleischer Studios Talkartoon short cartoon, also called Minnie the Moocher, starring Betty Boop and Bimbo, and released on March 11, 1932. Calloway and his band provide most of the short's score and themselves appear in a live-action introduction, playing "Prohibition Blues". The thirty-second live-action segment is the earliest-known film footage of Calloway. In the cartoon, Betty decides to run away from her parents, and Bimbo comes with her. While walking away from home, Betty and Bimbo wind up in a spooky area and hide in a hollow tree. A spectral walrus—whose gyrations were rotoscoped from footage of Calloway dancing—appears to them, and begins to sing "Minnie the Moocher", with many fellow ghosts following along, during which they do scary things like place ghosts on electric chairs who still survive after the shock. After singing the whole number, the ghosts chase Betty and Bimbo all the way back to Betty's home. In 1933 another Betty Boop/Cab Calloway cartoon with "Minnie the Moocher" was The Old Man of the Mountain.

Calloway performed the entire song in the movie Rhythm and Blues Revue (1955), filmed at the Apollo Theater. Much later, in 1980 at age 73, Calloway performed the song in the movie The Blues Brothers. Calloway's character Curtis, a church janitor and the Blues Brothers' mentor, magically transforms the band into a 1930s swing band and sings "Minnie the Moocher" when the crowd becomes impatient at the beginning of the movie's climactic production number.

"Minnie the Moocher" received a total of 71,1% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #30s #cab calloway

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bigwishes · 2 months

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Terms and Conditions

Levi arrived at the train station late at night. Nobody else was on the train on his way home let alone on the platform when he got off. Levi took his ear phones out of his pocket ready for for his walk home but to his disappointment realised they were dead. He sighed folding up his earphone case shoving it back in his pocket preparing for the quite walk home in the dark. As Levi approached the station exit he heard what sounded like arcade music and saw flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. Tucked away in a small room was a table set up, arcade music was playing in the room as cheap disco lasers spun around. On either side of the table were posters of chiselled abs with the words "FREE TRANSFORMATION BECOME THE ULTIMATE MAN" written over the top in what looked to be a rushed photoshop job. Levi had been thinking about getting a personal trainer for a few weeks now and he didn't want to pass up on the chance for a free session or two, even if the trainer was this bad at advertising. He looked around for any information but all he could see was a QR code taped down to the middle of the table. Levi scanned it and it took him to a website just as corny and asked him to upload his 'before' photo. Shrugging it off he scrolled through his photos and selected one he had taken on a night out a few weeks earlier.

Once uploaded the website brought up a page 'TERMS AND CONDITIONS'. Levi began reading but after the first sentence assumed it was the basic bullshit all websites have, he tried to skim read it but after realising that the terms and conditions document was over 400 pages long he just speedily scrolled his way to the bottom ignoring all of it until a large blue button labelled 'ACCEPT' showed up. Levi pressed the button and his phones web browser instantly closed. Levi tried to do the whole process all over again but the browser couldn't even open the website anymore. Rolling his eyes in disappointment it became clear whoever was running this program was struggling to get their career off the ground because they were so bad at marketing or even basic tech. He put his phone in his pocket and left the station to head home and go to bed.

The next morning Levi woke up and felt groggy, his body was sore all over like he had just done a week long boot camp and he felt slightly heavier. He stretched and felt like his shoulds and quads were much tighter than usual. He put one hand on his shoulder to try and help stretch it but it felt larger, bulkier...

Looking down he saw that his shorts had split open in the middle of the night and out of the shredded fabric poked strong thicc smooth muscles. his abs were more defined and and his arms were pumped up with definition. He had always been fit but somehow over night had transformed into a complete jock. He covered himself up and took a picture, surely this was all just a dream.

Whilst trying to find his gallery he came across a new app on his phone labelled 'Ultimate Man' when he opened it he was saw just a page that looked like it was written in the notes app with a few sentences on it.

"congratulations on embracing masculinity, through your free transformation we are going to turn you into the ultimate man! get ready to embrace manhood big guy"

Levi cringed at the terribly written message but whoever was behind it clearly was doing something right, even if they came off like an idiot.

Suddenly Levi began to feel warm and could feel his heart pumping. But it didn't feel like exercise or even anything strenuous it just felt like he could really notice all of the blood in his body moving around. Levi felt himself get hard and he looked down under the covers. Even his dick looked bigger. He opened up his browser app and went to his favourite website to look at videos and images of hot guys. On the home page happened to be an image of a buff Olympic swimmer climbing out of the pool, instantly Levi moaned as he came without even touching himself. He looked down at his twitching manhood, it continued to drool over his bare abs. He cleaned himself up and put a pair of shorts on and tried to make his way to the kitchen. It didn't even take two steps before Levi moaned loudly again and his knees locked together causing him to fall to the floor. He felt his underwear fill with warms and he felt his dick pulse and twitch, he took a breath thinking it was over before it fired off again.

Levi squirmed on the ground moaning unable to stop as his body forcefully went through cycles of pleasure. He didn't even have the strength to sit up. His shorts had become drenched and were stuck to him but it didn't stop. Levi tried to take them off but his hands never even made it to the waist band he simply stopped and massaged his throbbing pelvis as waves of pleasure were sent up to the rest of his body. He didn't know what was happening and couldn't even think he just laid on his bedroom floor squirming in pleasure as he was forced to come over and over again.

After a few hours it finally stopped. Levi was stuck on the ground panting like a dog in summer but after a few minutes he was able to pick himself up. He pulled off his shorts now 3 shades darker and coated in a layer of sticky gloss. He went to put them in the wash basket but ended up just dropping them on the ground next to his bed and by the time the loud wet *shlop* of his shorts finished echoing around the room he had already forgotten about wanting to wash them.

Levi put on a basic black shirt and another pair of shorts, both felt so tight it was almost like a second skin. He passed the mirror in his hallway once again he looked bigger, more defined and the imprint of his dick stood out like a sore thumb. He was still hard and his sorts were so tight every second step made him wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as he had become so sensitive down below.

Levi went to make breakfast and realised it was almost lunch

"fuck I really need to get to the gym"

he thought to himself, forgetting that he didn't even have a gym membership. Mindlessly Levi started to make his way to his car and drove to the closest gym. He was panting like a dog the entire way as the vibrations from the car gently stimulated his manhood but to him it felt like the best pleasure his dick had ever received. He felt his shirt and shorts become tighter, a few tears began to form around his thighs and the shirt started to ride up revealing his abs, it was almost like his clothes were shrinking. His toes curled as his shoes felt tighter. Finally he arrived at the gym.

Levi needed to take a moment after parking his car, he was still panting and he couldn't help but rub his groin which alone was enough to make him feel like he was edging. After almost half an hour of sitting in his car trying to collect himself he finally got out and made his way to the gym entrance. His car somehow looked smaller to him, and all his clothes felt like one wrong move and they'd all rip off. He tried his best to pull his shirt down to his waist but there was still a few inches of skin that could be seen. His shorts where the worst, he could see in the reflection of the gym windows how they hugged his thighs forming a nice V shape and he could feel how they rode up his ass, like he'd put on a pair 6 sizes too small.

Levi opened the door and went to the reception desk as his body began to feel warm again. He rapidly dinged the bell on the desk a few times before hearing a slight click noise, looking down he noticed the top of the bell had caved in and he gritted his teeth with a slight look of embarrassment on his face. A receptionist walked over from the other side of the desk and took one look at Levi, without even thinking he said,

"forgot you member ship again big guy?"

the trainer sighed and buzzed the small plastic gates open, Levi was confused but didn't question it, he quickly walked through the gates feeling desperate to work out. As he walked he felt his thighs now rubbing against each other, he felts he biceps and pushing past his pecs as his arms swung, and he felt the monster python in his pants creep slightly further to the elastic in his underwear.

Levi set up the cable machine almost by instinct. He began pulling the weight and didn't even realise he had it set to the most weight possible, and it didn't even feel like anything.

His shirt felt tighter and tighter as the sleeves pulled up above his biceps and the waist pulled up almost to his pecs, by now it looks like he was wearing a crop top. Levi struggled to pull his shirt off and was stunned by the amount of mass on his body. He could barely pull his eyes away from the mirror as he watched himself workout, he was hypnotised by the way his biceps moved and the way his pecs bounced with each movement.

Levi felt himself get heavier and heavier to the point simply moving between machines now had him out of breath, his shorts were now so tight and pulled up they practically looked like a thong. Finally Levi stopped working out feeling the enormous weight of his size falling on his. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stared at the freakishly massive man in the mirror.

He took a step back whilst flexing and felt something bump up against his ass. He turned around expecting it to be a bench but it was one of the gym staff.

"hey man, watch where you step hahah" the staff member laughed

It took Levi a minute to get the joke, he thought the staff member was sitting at first, but his eyes widened as he realised he was in fact standing. Levi scratched his head trying to work out if this guy just happened to be short but it was hard to work out when half his view was blocked by a massive shelf of his muscles that were his pecs. It was him finally realising he was half barefoot that finally made it click in his head. He looked in the mirror at the remains of his size 12 shoes torn to pieces and bits of fabric and rubber barely around his enormous feet.

He walked through the gym to the changing rooms trying to gauge how large he had become when he saw the weight station people used to track their stats. As he got closer to the station he watched the plank of wood used to measure height get smaller and smaller until he found himself in front, looking down at the number 8FT that was barely up to the bottom of his pecs. Levi stepped on the scales and watched the digital numbers rapidly shoot up until it began to slow around 700lsb. Levi took a deep breath as he moved his mass off the scale back down to the ground, even the 3 inch drop was enough to make small things on shelves near him rattle and shake.

Levi caught himself moving towards the changing room in the mirror, he thought he was walking normal but in reality he had a ridiculous wide waddle that took up the entire walk way. As he walked through the doors to the changing rooms a large thud caused everyone in the gym to turn their heads. Levi, not used to his new size had smashed his head into the door frame but it felt like someone had flicked him rather than walking face first into metal, as he took a second to recover he saw that the door frame had actually bent slightly from the impact.

The massive giant sat on the wooden bench alone in the changing room, it comedically bent in towards the centre, his massive weight almost causing it to bend to the ground. Levi scrolled his phone to find the app hoping there was a way to size down. He opened the app he saw a few notifications but clicked the latest one.

"Congratulations, you are almost the perfect man, one final step and you will be the optimal man! FINAL STEPS: Intellect deletion protocol and Personality Rewrite"

Immediately after reading those words Levi's head felt funny, felt almost blurry, all the embarrassment about turning into a literal giant went away, all the worries about clothes fitting him were gone and new feelings started to come in. Levi looked up into the changing room mirror and smiled.

He flexed his massive bicep

"OOOOOOH YEEAAH THATS NICE"

he rose his second arm to flex his other

"FUCK IM SO BIG, BEING THIS HUGE IS AMAZING"

He stood up once again feeling his insane weight

"Oh fuck, im so heavy, but damn, so big" He said as he struggled to reach across his own body to reach his bicep

His phone pinged loudly and Levi opened it to the app, but it looked like gibberish, he couldn't make out a single word, he scratched his head with confusion, Suddenly an audio file played

"Congratulations on becoming the Ultimate Man, we are currently offering a one time special offer for only the manliest of men, increase size by an additional 2 feet and 130 pounds, to claim say "I'm a manly man"

Levi's eyes lit up with glee, he didn't understand a single thing it said other than the words 'increase size' without missing a moment he yelled at his phone

"FUCK YEAH, IM A MANLY MAN"

He watched as his hands became thicker, watched as his dick print started to look like it was gonna rip through what was left of his clothes, his head turned to the mirror and he flexed his hulked out frame with all his might watching as it started to expand even bigger.

"FUUUUUUCCCKKK YEEEEAAHHH MAN" He screamed panting, completely out of breath as the giant before him got bigger and bigger and it was almost too much for him to even move......

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change

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forever--darling · 1 year

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as the world caves in | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: there is nothing left to do but bite the bullet and face everything head-on. when neteyam finds you at the tree of souls, he can't help but demand answers while showing the remnants of his broken heart.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 8.7k ( i am nervous about this one)

warnings/notes: slow burn, swearing, major angst continued, mention of sky people, many feelings (too many to be honest), arguing, admission of feelings, crying, double heartbreak, almost to the end (1/3)

series masterlist | one of us: part six | requests are currently open for now

Freedom is a privilege no one really appreciates when they have it. Especially when you’re used to having it; you take it for granted, think it’s going to be there forever, and think that your life is built around free will and personal rights. But that's not always the case when you live in Pandora as a sky person. You’re locked up in a building, dependent on oxygen, on resources that aren’t even from the planet you’re on. Privilege is designed and seen by the link pods, the only machine that can transform you into someone else within seconds. Even that is short-lived though because even when you have the ability to become someone else, something else, freedom isn’t permanent. Because sooner or later, you always have to wake up.

It was iridescent, the only way to utterly describe the sight before you. Iridescent bathed in bright neon bioluminescence lights that glowed as readily as the green lush of the forest. Mauve tendrils dangled down in front of your face, whispering soft assurances back at you, as you stared forward with silent prayers on your tongue. Silent prayers you had held in until now. It was like once they met your lips, they would become poisonous to not only yourself but everyone else around you. The sight of Vitraya Ramunong’s long luminescent rods, reflected in your eyes coating them with hope and The Great Mother’s comfort. The Tree of Souls offered a sacred site for those seeking solitude, a place to bear your soul in the hope of being answered.

You had a lot to bare as you stood there within the draped tree, queue with the lightest sensation bound to a mauve tendril. A neural link, the only possible connection between you and the great Eywa. With your eyes closed, your eyelashes felt like woodsprites on your cheeks and you took in a deep breath, one that felt as if you were filling your lungs completely with hot scorching blood rather than air. A plea was the only thing you could think to ask her. No other words could fall from your tongue but they didn't need to as you could feel her; her large motherly arms and firm comforting aura. You knew you didn’t need to say anything for her to feel your presence and the pain that was sewn across your heart.

Salty tears were beginning to form behind your eyelids. You clenched your eyes harder, trying to conceal them from falling across your blue skin. It was as if the organ in your chest that you were trusted to keep safe was failing you. Slowly piece by piece being chipped away along with the hope you were trying to hold onto. But the longer you kept using the link pod and prolonging the link process, the more it felt the virus was no longer just infecting the body you were born into but every part of you.

Almost as if the virus had made it to your brain and the effects were nullifying the spiritual bonds you had with the Omatikaya clan. Abiotic forces aren’t derived with empathy and you knew it wouldn't surrender just because of your ceremony. You were one of the people and now just as quickly, it felt as if you were being ripped away. With no escape, no lifeline from this very battle, you knew under Eywa’s consolation she wasn’t trying to offer you absolution from your lies or secrets but open up a home for your soul.

As the tears began to slip from your eyes as easily as you were slipping from the concreteness of the world, you could feel the mourning that had overtaken you. Your cries were mournfully falling from your parted lips and you dare to let them swallow you whole. You were mourning this life, this world, this encapsulating version of yourself you hadn’t even known existed but that this body had graciously granted you. You were mourning the future and the love that had overtaken your heart but now fell at your feet like withered petals.

The Great Mother had her great plan laid out and with you completely stuck in the dark about it, you couldn't help but let sickness claw and tear at every remaining hope you had left. Its cuts were deep, tainting, and leaving the last remaining pieces of your personality to resemble the physicality of your human body. Death had plagued you and you knew based on the shakiness of your form and the dizzy spells behind your gold eyes that things were bad. If you were feeling the effects here in this other world and this other body then it had reached a point of no return.

With your jaw trembling, and lips chewed to a pulp in between your pointed teeth, you released the queue from the tendril. Standing up, your hands wiped manically at your cheeks ridding them of the hot salty streams. You rid yourself of the physical implications of the pain that was sewn deeply across your back. Instead, as if it never happened, you let the tendril fall through your touch, the softness and comfort of it leaving your fingertips. Staring forward at it, your ears twitched at the quiet sounds of Omatikaya ancestors.

You then let your head fall back to peer up at the towering tree before you with complete and utter awe. It was a site that had been off limits to you until now, until you had become one of the Omatikaya. With tear-stained cheeks, a broken laugh fell from your lips. With the luminescent green ground warm under your feet and pulsing with every neuron of the forest, you felt the sorrow and the ruminations be pulled from your body.

Laughing like a madwoman, you walked along the hanging tendrils with a light smile pulled at the ends of your lips. You leaned into Eywa’s consolation, her plan tickling your ears as if she were going to whisper it to you. Face clean of the intense feelings that once harbored your body, you walked as if your shoulders were free of every burden you had acquired. It was as if Eywa heard your silent pleas and offered you a moment of relief. A moment of bliss overcompensated by an expression of tranquility that had appeared across your face.

Within the secluded part of the thick forest, your skin buzzed at the sound of muffled footsteps walking along the lush ground. Your ears twitched at the familiarity of it and you let out a breath of relief. Relief that he had decided to come and find you within the tree of pure spirits. You knew you should have retired to your human form hours before, the weakness evidently now taking a hold of your insides, but you couldn’t when you hadn’t seen him yet, knowing that you hadn’t talked to him. You needed to take in every moment of his presence you could. The very presence that left your heart aching for more — for more time, more courtesy to the feelings that were tightly wound around you, for more of him.

Your smile widened. It was soft and completely docile as you watched the lush ground of the forest illuminate under each of his heavy footsteps. Dots decorated his face like ivory stars radiating within the darkness of the eclipse, and you held your breath, praying to the Mother that he would reward you with the sight of his pearly white-coated smile. If there was anything you wanted to commit to your memory, it was that look, that infrequent smile, and the swelling feeling that appeared in your chest at the sight of it.

With anticipation and you standing under the tree, Neteyam felt his chest constrict at the sight of you completely dosed in bright colors reflecting off your skin. You were mesmerizing and ethereal as you stood there still dressed in what you had been during the ceremony with soft wispy pieces of hair framing your face. Even if he wished you could be the last thing he’d ever see, he felt the misery reach around him again and squeeze every delusion to the surface.

The sight of Lo’ak’s battered face flickered behind his eyes and it only reminded him of what had led to it. Of what destruction he had encountered that led to his own crumbling. When he stared at you in your ethereal form, he didn’t feel like he had anything left. Like after all the long months of stolen glances and mixed signals, there was nothing left of himself to give to you. Slowly he had wantingly opened up his ribs and the confines of his body to offer you everything he had inside, mistakenly. Because where that fondness of you still remained it was now overshadowed by anguish and exhaustion.

As he appeared in the light, the soft callings of Eywa draping his face in color, you felt your smile slip from your face. As if the Great Mother was asking you to push it back inside where it came from — to save it for another time away from the Toruk Makto’s oldest son. A gasp was wrenched from your throat, breathlessly, gold eyes dancing across his skin worryingly. Because paired with those scattered constellations was blackening blood expelled from the deepest cuts across his temple, just above his eyebrow, and bottom lip. His chest rose and fell distressingly when he breathed because of the purple and black swellings pressed along his torso and sides.

“Neteyam,” you whispered, disbelief coated across your tongue.

Your eyes flickered down to his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if they hadn’t softly been pressed against your chest hours ago. His tail swished from side to side while his guarded eyes that managed to never leave yours, the entirety that he approached, refused to waver until you said his name. His eyes stared back at you until his name had fallen effortlessly from you. The overwhelmingness that coated his insides forced him to drop his stare to the lush green ground rather than the woman before him.

Your silence became suffocating as you stared, unable to look away from the stains that coated his skin, caused by someone else’s hands. It made your whole body tighten. The effects of his crestfallen expression and the state of his body filled you with an entirety of new panic you had never felt before. Your thoughts bled with questions like bulletholes that were detrimental and unable to coagulate. How did this happen — the spotting with his father, while in the sky, did a sky person shoot them down, threatened them, chased them back into the forest where more were left waiting, and worse of all had they been far over the territory line than anyone realized. Like a never-ending horror show, you felt the panic take over every inch of your body completely taking priority over anything else.

Neteyam could not stop the pounding in his ears as your quietness did nothing to resolve his pain-stricken self. Even with you there in front of him, he felt Lo’ak’s words echoing in his head, tearing down every reserve he tried to build up on his walk over. He told himself to not get too close to you, to separate the light featherlike hold you had around him. The hold was evident in the way his eyes flickered back up to you with your silence drawing him back in, asking for him. The notion brought on a cold sweat that bathed his skin and sunk deeply into the open wounds like salt.

He could read your mind, the panic that had completely overtaken your features, burning every other emotion that had once resided there. Your mind was going around in circles like a boundless carousel and he cursed himself for feeling affected by it. Your eyes met his and with so much uncertainty filling them, he only had one answer for what and who was responsible. “Lo’ak.”

Your eyes widened the panic starting to crawl at the back of your throat drowning you completely, “W-What? Is he okay? What happened?”

A slight hiss fell from his lips as if you had reopened one of the many bullet wounds lodged deep within his chest wall. One that Lo’ak had put there. Tilting his head to the side, he closed his eyes for a moment. It was like you had struck him and he hated himself for how much you asking about his brother affected him — hated how much you affected him.

When he looked at you again he noticed that the pinched look of confusion on your face had deepened at his reaction. He shook his head slowly, glare meeting your timid gaze. “No. Lo’ak.”

You shook your head softly, trying to decipher the meaning of his brother’s name. Frantically, your eyes swept back and forth between Neteyam, the boy in front of you, whom you were desperately praying for day and night, and the dark forest behind him. His cryptic response left you with a dizzying, all-consuming trepidation. Your hands hung out in the air, ears tightly pulled back, and your gaze matched the constant steady of your thoughts as they flickered every which way. Lo’ak.

As if Eywa had sent you the very answer, your breath was snatched from you and your body stiffened. No. No. Your eyes snapped up to meet his just as your tail swished irritatingly. His once fleeting stare didn’t move again but stared forward, watching as all fear was expelled from your body with a single realization. You looked at him with disbelief, taking in his clenched jaw, spiteful eyes now being overtaken by unshed tears. Within the desolate area, it was like the distance was vast between your fragmented bodies. It was like you had already lost him to an unimaginable force pulling the two of you apart. But to Neteyam it wasn’t an unimaginable force, it was Lo’ak.

Distress overtook your shaking form at the thought. Lo’ak. You wondered what he must look like in comparison to Neteyam and felt your entire will be wretched from your body to only be laid at the future Olo’ektan’s feet. Because what happened to them wasn’t something or someone but each other.

“Neteyam, no,” your voice trembled as you let yourself breathe again, “No.”

He was silent for a moment, face struck with the same distress that you thought had occupied you. But based on the tension that was pressed firmly between his shoulder blades and the scowl on his face, his was far heavier than yours. His glare didn’t falter but only seemed to harden further as if he was once again the shell of the man he was when you met him. Spoiled with an anger that was grasping tightly at his throat, mostly afraid of anyone seeing past the facade he had stitched onto his face for years. He was trying to hide the stability of his sanity and the pain that was threatening it. He was trying to hide how you made him feel and worst of all, the affliction you had caused him.

You could see it past the unshed tears in his eyes and the frustration that was reverberating from his hands. How desperate he was for some exoneration. As he stared forward at you, you knew then that somehow he had heard about everything that had happened between you and Lo’ak. It was a rotting truth that somehow had taken the man you had known for months and turned him inside out. As horrible as it was, some of you felt satisfaction. Even as his heart twisted before you like it couldn’t take any more, you were presented with the indisputable fact that what he felt for you was there. His pain served as a confirmation to you.

“He told you,” you whispered.

Neteyam huffed suddenly, his arms lifting out in front of him as his hands clenched further into fists. At the sight of the dried blood as well as the open cuts on his knuckles, you felt your stomach drop and your eyes soften There was nothing you wanted more than to step forward and take each of them in yours. You wanted your touch as well as your lips to heal his wounds you had caused not only physically but emotionally, but the look in his eye had you glued to your spot. A wave of anger and hatred you had never seen before in it.

You felt yourself stepping closer craving to be near him. Needing something to ground you as it felt like the whole world was burning around you. His eyes narrowed, and you felt yourself crumble slightly at the sight. Deception.

“You act as if I did this,” you suddenly felt defensive as if you had to protect what was left of your own heart, “The choice wasn’t mine. I didn’t ask Lo’ak to make this decision of who he wanted to be his mate. It’s not mine to bear.”

“So you’re saying you told him no,” Neteyam said, breaking slightly noticeable by the sharpness in his tone as he took a step closer to you, “You explicitly told him that you didn’t want to be his mate. That you couldn't, not with what rules Mo'at has set.”

It was a shot. Such harsh words to get back at the inexplicable deception he felt by you. He wasn’t going to try and lessen the blow not when he thought you had done so much worse. You felt it just as it was meant to. Like he was trying to hurt you, go against every part of himself that had feelings for you, and hurt you plain and simple — whatever it took. You knew this was his defensive nature, his soldier makeup, doing everything he could to not break, to not tarnish, to remain strong to the orders bestowed on him.

He was being cruel because cruelness would keep you at an arm’s length away. Far away so he could stay true to what the clan needed of him, what the world needed of him. They needed every part of him including his heart which meant it wasn’t free to give away, especially to you.

You glowered up at him, trying not to let your mind get distracted by the bleeding cuts across his face.

It was your turn to have your quietness serve as an answer for him. An answer to his question. He nodded then dropped his arms to his sides as a pained exhale parted his lips, “Then it is yours to bear. Then it is just as much your choice as it is his. It is yours to bear.”

It is yours to bear. The words were spiteful but so desperate and you felt them shake your core as every expectation and ask of him seemed to be proudly on his shoulders at that moment. He bears the entire world and he always would until it would lead to his collapse. He would hold it all until it finally killed him. He will give the clan, his family, and his father everything until there would be nothing left of him but an imprint of dust. He didn’t have the strength to carry the weight of his love for you, let alone his pain. The repetition of the unknown article of it was completely evident as were the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall. Where he held up the entirety of the world and the conflicts that arose with it, the rest was yours to bear — his heart, his soul, his suffering.

“Then I will bear it,” you whispered, the sob within your chest was scorching, as the quiver of your lips was inevitable, “You’re right. It was just as much my choice as his. I should have told you that he had asked me, but I didn’t. Because I haven't decided.”

You had watched as he had absorbed your first sentence like it would save him but then by the end of your honest answer, you watched just as carefully as his entire body fell. Because I haven’t decided. Soldiers and warriors are trained to be made like gunmetal and piercing arrows, but even gunmetal can tarnish and arrows can break. No one is imperishable or has the ability to prevent themselves from getting hurt because you’re not in charge of your own pain. Other people were. They are the ones who deliver the blows, who ask for everything and give nothing. They are the ones who prove that you can’t be imperishable.

His eyes became drenched, his unshed tears displaying it all to you. You knew then as your own tears threatened to spill, even if you took his suffering away, bearing the weight of it wouldn’t make the truth any less painful. He shook his head almost mournfully, like no matter what you said to him, he would be saying goodbye to not only you but the possibility of the two of you.

“I didn't give him an answer or tell him no because I just needed a minute — a moment to feel like this isn't my life. That a man can propose to me and I have the ability to say yes. Trust me, all I think about is what Mo'at said. Because no matter how hard I try or what I do, I will never be allowed to live like everyone else. Not while I still have this weight of a whole other life on my shoulders. And it is suffocating because it’s all I can think about. How ceremony put aside, I will never be one of you.”

Just like that streams of salty tears rushed down your cheeks, the hold on them broken by the very same words that had once been spat in your face by the same man before you. The very man, who once had to say those heavy agonizing words as if it was the easiest thing he ever did. Now you mirror them back at him earnestly, torturously like it took everything in you to say. With your ears pulled back, you feel that sob rising in your throat like a knot that refused to disappear. It threatens to cause more wreckage to this already fatal tragedy.

You sighed, it sounding broken as it escaped, “So when Lo’ak asked me if I wanted to be his mate, I allowed myself a moment to feel what it would be like to say yes. A moment where I could have everything. Right then, I couldn’t say no because I needed to remember that feeling it gave me, and now I just need time to try and figure out what to say.”

The exhale that is ripped from his throat pulls the sob right out of yours. His dreadful gaze is nauseating as he steps closer to you, his own lips trembling as if he had already been crushed, and by his next words, maybe he had.

“A moment?” a cool chuckle fell from his lips, “Really? So, then why did you go to Mo'at? Why do you request a consciousness transfer? If it was about some fucking sentimental bullshit, you wouldn’t have asked this of our Tsahik and decided to gamble your life with Eywa. You’re planning your whole damn life here Y/N. Your future. So, don’t go and tell me you haven’t given him a decision yet because you needed a fucking moment to try and revel in some feeling.”

It turned out as he stared back with daggers in his eyes, it wasn’t the weight of everything he carried that led to his demise but the weight of his broken heart. You think yours became collateral damage, broken just as much as his, caught in the line of fire.

“Neteyam,” you cried, not knowing what else to say but his name.

He recoiled from you, taking a step back as if whatever answer you gave him or explanation wouldn’t be enough. His lips twisted painfully, trying to stop them from trembling as he wiped at his eyes. He had been trying so hard, to keep his tears from escaping, to keep them where they were gathered within his eyes. At the sound of his name falling from your mouth, sounding so much like grief, he was able to pull himself together letting his anguish be masked by anger.

“Just stop! Just... what the fuck, Y/N? A consciousness transfer. Are you serious?” he cursed, the only way to handle how absolutely empty he felt inside, “Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”

Taking your silence into his hands and the fresh tears that fell from your eyes like a river, he let the last of his patience snap inside him like his last will to live. “How can you do this? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

That one hit you right where it needed to and you felt your mouth drop in shock and just as your chest tightened it was accompanied by a flutter — a flutter that wasn’t supposed to be there. You didn’t let it have your attention though, not even for a second. However left with your mouth agape, you were stranded of knowing what to say next.

“What you are asking of the Great Mother is too much. It is dangerous, not to mention rarely successful. You are risking your life and what I can’t believe is that Lo’ak was going to let you. He fucking knew and was going to let you go through with it anyway. He is a coward and he knew about your request to Tsahik. Not only did he not try to stop you, but he used it as a way to get you to be with him. Like some damn bargaining chip. He is a fucking coward and you’re just mindless.”

“Mindless?” you huffed, your voice unsteady and aching from the cries that had reverberated within the quiet forest, “You don’t get it, do you? You were supposed to understand this better than anyone but I guess I was fucking wrong about that too. Neteyam, time here is a factor. A factor that one day is going to run out, maybe quicker than any of us realize. Oxygen is depleting, and resources are limited. More sky people are coming. They are coming and they are not going to stop. Nothing is promised and what I want more than anything is this. It’s this life.”

The flutter increased but as it did it only became an ache, an ache that seemed to increase as your heart rate did. His eyes drank you in as if it would be the last time, a sheer of sweat formed across your back and your palms. He doesn't move closer though. No, he just stands there, mesmerizing every inch of your face in case this is an argument he won’t win. In case Tsahik accepts your request and you are uprooted from this existence and his whole world.

“I can’t let you do this,” he spoke, strongly, his voice cutting through all of your senses as if it had complete control over you.

“It’s not your decision to make.”

It was brutal. Your words and admission were brutal, leaving him with his breath hitching like he was afraid to cry. An irrational fear that it would break everything inside of him to pieces worse than you already had. He hated this. He hated this. That was all he could think as his eyes clenched shut, worried about the ruinous consequences he would face when he chose to ask his next question.

“Why Lo’ak?”

The question was torturous to him, the mention of his brother excruciatingly reminding him of the markings across his entire body as well as the welts across his knuckles that were left.

He sighed, as he managed to push out the last of his remaining words, “Why didn’t you say no? I know Lo'ak and for years I have had to listen to him talk about you, go on and on and on about how he feels. But I think you and I both know that the way he feels isn't how someone should feel for their mate. So, tell me, why haven't you told him no?"

The ache worsened and it was like your chest was going to explode. Your lungs were burning like pins were being pelted at the organ trying to poke holes into them. That nauseating feeling returned to your head from what you could only assume was the rush of emotions pulsing through your entire body. But you wouldn't let yourself falter under his unwavering gaze. You wouldn’t dance around it and offer him cryptic explanations or hide how easily you craved him. You craved him and knew that with every fiber of your being as easy as he had broken you, he could put you back together. And as you stared at his wet eyes, emerged in unsaid words, you knew deep down that if you could, you would spend an eternity letting him do it.

“Because I knew I could never have you.”

A shudder shocked through Neteyam’s body at your words, his hands clenched shut, yearningly. His head was swirling with a newfound desire. One of relief to hear you admit it so willingly, to finally say in so many words that what you felt for him was real and that what he felt for you was requited. It wasn’t in his head and it never had been. It had always been him. That thought paired with the way your gaze was swimming in so much passion and so much hurt made his chest tighten as if he would stop breathing right there. He felt his words get lodged in his throat and he knew if you got any closer you would be able to hear the interworkings of his heart. The way his heartbeat was frenzied and completely under your control.

“Neteyam, the way I feel about you is... consuming. The way I want you consumes me, completely.”

He knows the meaning behind your words, how scary it had to have been to say them. He knew the weight of them as they actively slithered their way past his chest after all the beatings it had taken in a single day. The words installed every single hope back into his shattered organ but even with the warmth that was beginning to spread, the spite dipped in acid was not budging from where it sat lodged in the base of his stomach. He knew what he was about to do was going to leave you battered and bruised and completely dejected but he couldn’t help himself from saying it anyway.

“No,” he denied your words like he was denying a fact that had been calculated wrong. He was taking your feelings that had been expelled from deep inside and was giving them back to you on a platter as if he didn’t want them.

“No?” you choked breathlessly, your voice losing all the strength it had left as the burning in your lungs become completely unbearable.

His face loomed over yours, face twisting further than it had before as if his next sentence would hurt him more than it could possibly hurt you, “No because how could you just not say anything? How could you contemplate having something with Lo’ak? If it was me... how could you? If you felt this way, why not tell me?”

With a shuddering inhale you reply with, “You’re going to be Olo’eyktan one day.”

He huffed, your answer fueling the anger that lingered in the base of his stomach. You lifted your arms up just as your vision began to blur, becoming waves of mauve and the blue of his skin. With your hands reaching out towards him, he didn’t bother to move away from your touch. “How could I tell you when—”

He cut you off, voice overpowering yours. “I trusted you. I trusted you and the second that I think… you just move on as if I didn’t have a say. You know you’re just like everyone else.”

His words tore into you. Tore into your flesh as if making you bleed could possibly heal his own wounds or rather settle the scale. It felt like maybe it had as it was like your lungs had bursted, the struggle to breathe emulsifying with the rapid heart rate and your sweat-coated skin. Your hands were shaky and desperate to be held, hoping he would grace you with one last touch.

With the only breath you had, you felt yourself pushing it out painstakingly with his words I trusted you still coating your heart. “Neteyam, I—”

The link pod lifted like the top of a casket and you felt the light blind your eyes in hues of white. A huge gasp was wretched from your chest like your soul was trying to be yanked from your body. As if the afterlife was present and ready to collect. Skin drenched in sweat, your lungs were gasping, trying to devour the air that was being pulled in from your diaphragm. Fingers curled together at your sides, you felt your eyes flickering to the ceiling as control had disappeared from your body. The feeling of the gel encasing your body was cool but you couldn’t completely register it. Not with your heart beating as fast as it was paired with how your whole body was twitching beyond belief. It was almost like every anatomical system was failing you.

“Fuck,” the coarse word echoed in your ears like hysteria as the person lifted the metal cage from your body, “No, no, no. Ugh, fuck.”

The ringing in your ears subsided, as the sudden interruption of the link process numbed your senses. Within the next few seconds, you were cognizant, able to hear the obnoxious beeping next to your ears that usually only went off when there was a machine malfunction. Then you felt the twitching in your toes like a reflex reacting to a sensation. It started in your fingers a second later and from there began to travel up your entire body through the neuron channels of your nervous system.

Two hands slipped under your shoulders and began to lift your body as your gasping got worse. “Max, help! Need some help here, now!”

Norm watched as the twitch in your fingers stop for a second, a mere second before your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Your body went limp in his arms and knowing what was to come, he slipped a hand under your knees and lifted you from the link pod. Your breathing was short now, too quiet, as your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids. The second your human body started to convulse in his arms, jerking back and forth, he began to lose his grip. With not enough time to get your body to a bed, he fell to his knees and laid you on the tile floor. As he rolled you onto your side, he couldn’t help but take note of your gritting teeth and shaking limbs. Your cold, pale skin, slipped through his fingers as your head flailed from side to side.

“Max,” he screamed out again as a few other scientists appeared at his side trying to do what they could to help. His arm braced against your back to keep you from falling flat onto your backside. “Diazepam, now!”

His panicked eyes found your form again and as he stared at your stiffening face, all he could think about was you at six years old, laughing in a chair, sharing your red stringy candy. Your giggle was the sweetest sound in the world as you watched the scientist make horrible jokes that could only get a child to laugh. Then as he blinked the memory was gone, replaced by the eighteen-year-old young woman who now lay convulsing under his hands. Suddenly, the future, the very demise that the two scientists had been working all day and night to deter or to altogether avoid was playing out right in front of his eyes. An inevitable outcome of an impossible problem.

He says your name. Once and then twice. Anguish and distress laced into his voice so strongly he felt that it could be permanent. He doesn’t move but stands, now with the physicality of holding his world up in his arms; you. His calloused and familiar hands cascaded across your arms to your back — your exposed now suddenly cool back. His touch languished as his fingers rubbed up and down the base of your back feeling the indent of your spine. Your name suddenly felt like the only word he could manage to form as his breathing heaves up and down while his body trembled and shook with terror.

The rest of your words had been stolen from you and let to drift into the unknown that was the desolation between him and you. His name was the last thing to grace your tongue, leaving him in a puddle of heartache. Your dispute was being pulled into the air by the large gasp that had been wretched from your body. Legs collapsing under you, he felt his entire universe shift as you fell forward, eyes rolling back into the base of your head. He grunted as he caught your torso in his hands, his battle-scarred hands, covered in his brother’s dried blood and his own. Your neck collapsed from the weight of your head and he felt your forehead fall to his chest. The pull of gravity paired with dead weight drilled your body straight into his.

He felt himself stumble as his hands shifted to wrap around your back while the panic began to claw its way from his stomach. With one arm strongly wrapped around your lower back, his other hand drifted up quickly to your face. Pulling your head back away from his chest, he feels his insides tighten at the way your head folds back. Your face was tilted up towards the mauve tendrils of the Tree of Souls as if asking for a kiss from Eywa herself while Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek, brushing the soft hair from your face.

“No, no, Y/N,” he tripped over his words as he took a breath, solidifying the terror rising up in his throat. Alarmed gold irises wide and quivering flickered across every feature of your face. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, and the softness of your eyelashes that peacefully kiss the tops of your cheeks. He found himself tracing the ivory specks that were scattered across your smooth blue skin.

“No, Y/N, please,” he begged, the tone of his voice foreign to himself as he stared up into the lush dark forest around him. The quietness reminded him of the void that surrounded him. Ruminations were taking over his face led by your heavy words that had once been whispered in his ears like the best-kept secret. The way I want you consumes me.

But all things must come to an end.

You were being ripped from his reality and as his thumb traced over the cupid’s bow of your upper lip, he knew this couldn’t be his goodbye. Whatever had happened to you, this wasn't going to be his last image of you.

All of his senses became alit at that moment, focused on your collapsed form in his body. Clearing his throat, he tilted his head up towards the night sky as the stars taunted him back. He let out a loud scream, a call sign that echoed within the trees of the forest. His hand fell from your face and instead swooped under your legs, pulling your entire body up and off of the ground into his strong statue. He stumbled away from the Tree of the Souls into the clearing of the forest, eyes racking the sky in desperation, a quiet please falling from his parted lips.

He heard the familiar screech paired with blue and purple-coated wings as he was about to tilt his head back and yell out again. Relief flooded Neteyam’s system for a moment as his Ikran flew down and landed within the trees of the forest. He climbed on with ease and connected his queue, arms tightening around you. With a single click of his tongue, the Ikran was taking off into the night sky towards the village. Neteyam's eyes throughout the ride flickered from you to the sky, feeling the panic increase and begin to suffocate him from the inside out slowly.

Landing in the base of the village, he slid from the creature, his arms numb and chest heaving. Not many people were still out and wandering but those that were, found their wide terror-stricken faces on Neteyam as he carried you with both arms. The anguish of his pain was now tightly swelling around every piece of him, the idea of losing you in his grasp killing him slowly. The fire was put out and other riders and hunters who watched the future Olo’eyktan sprint by with the new Omatikaya woman in his arms felt the alarms going off in the man’s head. They could see the panic laced within his eyes and couldn’t help but feel it forming in themselves. They all began to mumble to one another and just as his own hut came into view, it felt as if the news was going to get there before him.

Stood outside, illuminated by a soft lantern and the night sky, Jake stood with Neytiri. They were whispering under their breath as their youngest son sat in their tent, getting patched up their two daughters. Lo’ak’s hisses of pain and discomfort echoed out of the tent but the couple was too immersed in their conversation. Their conversation about Neteyam. Jake had agreed to give the boy another ten minutes before he was striding out of the village with an attitude to be reckoned with. Neytiri stood trying to calm her husband down as they tried to unravel what had happened between their two sons to invoke a fight.

A fight that seemed to come out of nowhere, invoked by all of the worst possible feelings and words. Jake had been trying to wrap his head around what his oldest son could have been thinking for almost twenty minutes. His very son who could never go out of his way to defy him — his very own son that would one day own and control every piece of Jake’s current world.

Neteyam — the warrior, the soldier, the hero. The very man who could have outfought Atlas, Achilles, or Hercules. The very man who gave everything to the world including his bones, tears, sweat, and blood. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. Toruk Makto’s firstborn had thrown a punch at his younger brother, multiple at that and Jake simply couldn’t figure out where any of it was coming from. The last look on his son’s face as he stormed off, was the only thing on repeat in his mind.

“Dad!” Neteyam yelled with as much of his voice as he could as his throat was raw.

Jake’s ears flickered curiously able to hear his son’s voice as well as the desperation heard in it. With his arms tightly crossed over his chest, he was prepared to deliver hell but as he turned to face Neteyam, his facade dropped immediately. Quickly it was forgotten as he found his son's battered form rushing towards him caring a statue of dead weight in his arms. A dead weight Jake could clearly identify as you. Neteyam was barely breathing at that point as both his mom and dad rushed toward him.

“Dad, please,” Neteyam begged.

“Shit,” Jake cursed, eyes scanning your ashen form to see no markings or visible injuries, “What happened?”

Neteyam stumbled over his words, his father’s question bringing back every single second of the conversation you two had. Muted within his ears, he felt as if he could still hear your voice. He shook his head, arms tightening around you unable to even calm down enough to let his father take you from him, “I-I don’t know.”

Neytiri gasped at the sight of you, her hands reaching out to take one of yours that was hanging limply in the air, “Oh Eywa.”

Jake’s hands ghosted over your form as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His marine persona instantly clicked on and like a true soldier, he began to go through a checklist in his mind. No bulletholes or blows to the head. “No injuries? She didn’t fall or anything?”

Tears gathered in their son’s eyes and Jake tried to not let himself get so caught up in it knowing his attention needed to be on you. Neteyam shook his head still unable to let his tears fall recklessly across his face, especially not in front of his father. “No, no, we were just talking and—”

As if it was the most evident answer in the world, right in front of his face, especially as a previous dream walker it should have been the first thing he thought of. Sudden disruption to the link process. It was the only explanation, usually done by either someone manually kicking a person out of the avatar body through a red button or the individual pulling themselves out. Jake knew Norm and Max though and knew how dangerous it was when a link process was interrupted. What it could do, the harmful effects, and how the longer the link procedure the higher the risks increase. Jake knew Norm and Max. Jake knew you. This wasn’t deliberate. Something had happened.

“We have to go,” Jake suddenly snapped, his eyes connecting with Neytiri’s within the darkness of the village, her eyes clouded with sorrow, “We need to go right now!”

As if his words had cut through the air like a knife, his head snapped into the direction of their hut, hearing the front flaps be pulled back quickly with hurried steps following. Kiri and Lo’ak rushed out from inside as they heard their father’s tone through the doorway. Spider and Tuk were only a step behind them. It was as if a war had been set off then. Like a siren had gone off initiating war and the beginning of a long cold spell of suffering. All of their eyes fell on the lifeless form draped across Neteyam’s arms.

A moment of silence. A beat where all of their eyes were drilling into the body — your body. The shock after a few seconds wore off and their eyes widened in horror and their lips twisted on their faces. The parents were quiet, feeling the grief that was starting to form within their children and the denial that was sure to follow. Jake shook his head, hands locked around your cold shoulders, knowing that it wasn’t time for that yet. Not when they didn’t know what had even happened.

It was too early to be grieving over someone who wasn’t even dead. That’s what Jake told himself as the tears from his youngest began to fall in complete confusion. Jake could only hope that he was right as the thought rang through his mind — you being sick. Norm told him it wasn’t great. Dread formed within his stomach then, knowing it had to have been the cause.

At the same time that Kiri mumbled out Neteyam’s name to draw his gaze to her, Lo’ak was sputtering out in confusion, “W-What h-happened?”

How was he supposed to explain this to his children, his four children who didn’t understand the entirety of what link pods were or the neural pathways that connected the human consciousness from one form to another? They barely could perceive the idea of dream walkers and let alone that you were one, how was he supposed to explain that what happened to you wasn’t normal but there was a chance you were okay?

Just then a cry from Tuk filtered into his ears and he felt his fatherly instinct start to outway the soldier. Neytiri was about to release your hand from her grasp to scoop her youngest child up into her arms but was still at the worried look that washed over her husband’s face. His frown practically glued her in her spot and asked her not to move. “Neytiri, we have to go.”

She nodded and as both her and Jake released their hands from around you and stood, he could feel the sharp gaze from his children burning holes into his back.

He couldn’t escape though as his oldest son’s voice was drawing his attention again, “Dad I want to come with you.”

Broken. That’s how Jake could describe Neteyam. The sight of a broken man as if he had lost everything and at that moment as he held your body in his arms, unshed tears staining his eyes, he was. And it was all that Jake needed to understand what was going on. You, that was the sole answer. The answer that Neytiri and he had spent most of the evening trying to find. The common link between it all. Neteyam’s brazen attitude, his absence in the hut at night, his distractedness, the need to start a fight with his brother, and his storming off after. You — you were the formidable answer.

Which was the exact reason why he couldn’t let Neteyam come. If that wasn’t the look on his face and if you weren’t the answer to everything, he would. Now that he was older, it was very rare that Jake wouldn’t have Neteyam accompany him anywhere, but this wasn’t right. Especially when he wasn’t sure what they would find, he couldn’t.

“No, I need you to stay with your sisters and with…” Jake felt his voice trail off as his eyes fell down to the avatar’s body still tangled in his son’s grasp. It felt wrong to say that it was you because even if it had been for months, in the current state it was just a shell of a person — consciously you weren’t there. “Just take her to Mo’at, okay? She’ll know what to do.”

Jake watched his son’s ears become taut, his lips twisted into a frown. The disappointment was the sole cause of the look on his face, almost as if he had his hands tied around his back. There was no argument, no defying of his words, just complete silence, bestowed on Neteyam like an unwanted gift. He watched as his father and mother called to their direhorses, the sound of their calls perpetrating his ears. Then as if they were never there, they hopped on and rode off into the forest. The pliable shape of your avatar body was the only reminder that it all had in fact happened.

one of us taglist is not working the best right now and I have over the limit of people asking to be tagged (it says it's fifty) so, for now, I am just not going to have a taglist because I can't tag everyone and it's taking a lot of work to figure out.

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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itsbuckytm · 5 months

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Little Bird / Coriolanus Snow

summary: Being the Capitol's favorites subject has consequences. Consequences that subject to be paired with the most influential man in Panem entirely.

notes **reader is an idol/singer in Capitol's first attempt into making a group for each annual Hunger Games. but with snow's obsession into making you entirely his and with his job as mentoring lucy gray, he tries his very best, but fails miserably.

ps ; english isn't my first language so i apologize in advance for some minor errors and please do not copy my work without credit thank you!

Your connection with Snow encompassed diverse facets. At times, he exuded an irresistible charm, drawing you in effortlessly. Yet, in the next moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with audacious intent, as if daring anyone to approach and touch even the slightest expanse of your skin – a challenge few would ever contemplate.

Being the Capitol's favorite came with its own set of challenges. Compliments on your skills or charisma were either sincere or fueled by envy, making it doubly difficult for those striving to surpass their yearly earnings. This aspect of Panem's functioning was something Coriolanus exploited way too much. The artificiality of the stage, adorned with makeup to project an illusion of wealth, highlighted what he found enduring. The ease with which one could become the favorite by merely speaking or moving to the latest musical rhythm was something Coriolanus himself could not keep his eyes away from. And that person was you.

He despised witnessing other men vying for your attention, their eyes lighting up as soon as you entered the Capitol's theater. There was no denying that you were the favorite member among your group. However, during your debut, the spotlight only found you officially when it was announced that the Capitol's new favorite group would be welcoming a new member. Given your position at the Academy, your choices were limited – either mentoring a tribute and risk bringing shame to your family if they lost. Or become part of Panem's newest favored diversion. It wasn’t until the very next day, that many became obsessed with you. And as much as Coriolanus tried to oblige on that single though, he was afraid to admit that he too became a little too obsessed over you.

To compound Coriolanus's discomfort, he had to endure the ceaseless styling rituals accompanying each new album or song released to the public. This entailed donning short skirts and crops, transforming your body into a specific attire as a statue to be admired for hours on end. For the hapless Coriolanus, sitting there was challenging enough, watching you perform with a self-assured smirk, reveling in every bit of skin. How the skirt would flare up and brush against your skin, how he wanted to feel such fantasy. From each moments of your act, while beads of sweat glistened across every inch of your body. He couldn't help but fantasize scenarios from scenarios that you would be his, envisioning the two most influential figures of the Capitol as the perfect pair. And that was only during the ceremony of the 10th Hunger Games.

Post the 10th Hunger Games, a significant shift occurred. Lucy Gray's presence lingered in Coriolanus's thoughts, causing him to perceive you in a completely new light. You were constantly in his mind. Although you though, with hearing the constant rumors of a possible relationship between him and his tribute. While you continued to excel in your performances, earning the success both you and your group rightfully deserved, you were aware of Coriolanus's altered fate.

Once he had been sent back to District 12 after his victor, Lucy Gray, who was also a performer. He remembered occasionally, after the victory ceremony, how you had the opportunity to chat with Lucy Gray. Discovering that your old classmate may have developed feelings for her. As Coriolanus Snow’s proud smirk upon seeing the people he seemingly cared for interacting with each other. Only to be so blind by the fact that you had expressed prior feelings for him, but instead confidently expressed his plan to join forces and visit her in her District wasn’t what you had intended to hear.

While you refrained from expressing any objections, your suspicions regarding the burgeoning emotions between the two of them proved well-founded. Little did you know, Coriolanus engaged in those actions merely to divert his thoughts from you, acknowledging he wouldn't have a chance with you. Lucy Gray became his chosen distraction. Simultaneously, he caught wind of a potential rumor suggesting you were seen intimately with another man. The revelation that this man wasn't him intensified his already pronounced obsession with you. However, this time, Lucy Gray played a role in assisting him.

The revelation of his truth dawned on him only upon his return to Panem. The snake bite's impact intensified, with only your silhouette haunting his thoughts. In this return, he presented a wholly transformed appearance – his hair slightly longer, adorned in his father's old crimson jacket, albeit somewhat intoxicated, attempting to erase all memory of you. What Snow remained oblivious to was your patient anticipation during his absence in District 12. It was Tigris who knocked on your door that very evening, sparing you from the surprise of his return.

However, Snow chose to make his entrance at the stroke of midnight, reminiscent of the times when both of you would clandestinely navigate the Academy. In those intimate moments, he patiently bided his time for the Capitol streets to empty, stealthily entering through your bedroom window. Hours were spent in each other's arms, reveling in discussions about new projects, with his assurances that everything would be alright.

This time, however, an inebriated Snow had a different agenda beyond comforting cuddles for sleepless nights. His primary goal was to solidify your relationship officially. "If you don’t tell her, I will." Echoed Tigris’s voice in his mind upon seeing her cousin return from duty as a Peacekeeper. She was among the few who truly knew about the budding romantic connection between Coriolanus and you. She pleaded with her cousin to go ahead, noting. "She hasn't touched a man since the last time you spoke, you know." That last statement served as a testament to your unwavering fidelity towards him. It was only a matter of time before he knocked on your door that very night.

On the contrary, you took it upon yourself to tidy up the entire apartment. Anticipating Coriolanus's return, you were determined not to leave a single mess, mindful of both his and your own peace of mind. Despite the fact that chaos often defined your shared living space, when in each other's arms, you both found solace in tidiness and tranquility. However, as dinner passed and bedtime approached, you couldn't help but notice Coriolanus's absence. Was he running late, or was he entangled in some trouble that you would only learn about the next morning? Various questions raced through your mind as you attempted to drift off helplessly on the living room couch, with the TV's echo serving as a backdrop.

Coriolanus stood there silently, observing from a distance outside your apartment window. Anyone observing from afar would catch a glimpse of you nibbling at your cuticles – a habit he had learned you indulged in when he wasn't around, a realization that would later make him feel remorseful upon witnessing the marks it left on your fingers. In response, he would tenderly peck each bruise, a silent acknowledgment of your thoughts mirroring his own. However, this time, he chose to forgo surprising you with the cliché bouquet of flowers or any conventional gesture. After indulging in the contents of a second wine bottle before making his way to you, he had no plans of raiding the florist shop either. Knocking on your door with determination, he felt an unusual hesitation, a departure from his past boldness of entering and showering you with kisses. Contemplating the prospect of declaring you entirely as his, especially in his inebriated state, he wasn't entirely certain if you would fully trust his words.

Luckily, you had left the door ajar for him, a gesture he expected. Upon entering, he was met with the familiar background echo of the TV, confirming his assumption that you were already asleep. Nostalgia washed over him as he recalled the mornings spent lounging in bed with you or embarking on early runs for coffee. Despite his aspirations to bring about change in Panem and restore his family's reputation by aspiring to become President, he understood that true fulfillment wouldn't come until he had you by his side entirely. Limping slightly due to the effects of his drunkenness, he made his way into the living room and began to softly whisper your name, until his gaze met your sleeping figure. "Y/N... My sweet bird."

His breath carried warmth that gently brushed against your cold skin. Despite the lingering scent of alcohol, indicating Snow had been drinking before his arrival, your eyes responded to the touch of his finger delicately tracing your cheek. "Coryo…" you murmured his name with a loving tone, reveling in the vulnerability of calling out to him. "Shh… I am here," he reassured you, prompting a soft smile to grace your lips at the sound of his comforting voice. A voice you had missed dearly, compelling you to slowly rise from the much-needed slumber after a demanding day. However, lately, without Snow's presence in your arms, the nights became sleepless and challenging to endure alone. Despite acknowledging this truth, there was a conflicting sensation, a twinge of discomfort knowing that Coriolanus relished the fact that without him, you felt incomplete. It was this dynamic that rendered the two of you an unforgettable pair, seemingly inseparable.

“How I missed you so much.” He continued to say, with seeing your face arousing from your slumber, how he had missed kissing your soft lips each night before going to sleep. If it wasn’t for being a Peacekeeper back in District 12, he’d say he was damn for letting himself kiss Lucy Gray while thinking of you the entire time. “I missed you more, Coryo. Everytime, during performances and even in my relentless dreams.”

A subtle smile played on his features as his fingers traced down your body, an unspoken desire evident in his every touch. His lips yearned to kiss every inch, a longing to finally claim you as his own. He envisioned proudly holding your hand in public, marking you as his and sending a clear message to other men about your ownership. "You want to know something?" The amusement in his voice prompted a soft giggle from you, appreciating his seemingly all-knowing manner of sharing information, despite the evident effects of his earlier drinking. "What, drunk boy?" You playfully teased, noting the light pink hue that adorned his cheeks—a clear sign of his inebriation.

He vehemently denied it with a pout, his lips subtly mimicking a desire for a kiss. Coryo was just touch starved. "You know, I haven't been properly fed with love lately. Coryo has been away from his bird for far too long..." His voice deepened, the intensity of his gaze barely allowing for a blink, making it abundantly clear who he desired: you. An intensifying blush crept on your features this time. Of course you knew your history with him, a caring gentleman who made sure to take care of the one he loved most. But this Coriolanus, objected something in you that you enjoyed seeing probably a little more. To be completely under his control. To bow to his command.

"And as much as I hate to admit..." Your voice took on a gentle tone, a stark contrast to the confidence you exuded in the public eye. Sensing his fingers trailing down your body, from your hips to your lips, he couldn't help but notice their softness, prepared to be pampered at his command. However, he had to restrain his temptations for a moment, feeling his teeth sink into the bottom of his lip. You continued. "I might have been a naughty bird, moaning your name during sleepless nights, hoping you'd come save me from my little cage. You have no idea how eagerly I waited for you to come back."

Honestly, Coriolanus found himself just as taken aback by your confession, despite the obvious history between the two of you. The mere thought of you in bed, adorned in barely anything, accentuating your beautiful form, fingers exploring sensually. The vivid image of you pleasuring yourself, uttering his name amidst a chorus of enticing sounds, drove him to instant madness. Tonight, he was determined to lavish you with everything he could muster—to claim you as his own, leaving marks on your body that not even the most skilled makeup artist could conceal come morning. Without explicitly professing love in the conventional sense, it was evident that Coriolanus and you were destined to be together. In times of need or distraction, both of you instinctively knew where to find solace in each other's presence.

"I want you, Coryo..." you pleaded, your fingers clutching his shirt, the skirt from today's performance riding up slightly. Upon arriving from work, you had removed your underwear just for him—his eyes alone to witness, taste, and appreciate. His hands gripped firmly on your arse, and it was his turn to shift positions, settling onto the couch with you atop him. Your blouse, with a revealing cleavage, owed its allure to Tigris, your stylist. You couldn't help but wonder if the same effect would have been achieved without her touch. Extricating yourself from his grasp, you observed his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. It was a smirk that served as a reminder, and in that instant, you knew that tonight, you were unequivocally his—his and his alone, his cherished little bird.

"I can't wait to finally show my little bird what I can do."

Coriolanus spoke those words with genuine anticipation. It was undeniably the most memorable night, and he intended to recreate it repeatedly. After all, you were his little bird—his to cherish, tourmate, and play with as he pleased.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the huger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x y/n #president snow x reader #hunger games x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagines #coriolanus snow imagines #hunger games imagines

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satoshy12 · 3 months

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Bat Archer

Danny, during a new power going awry, finds himself transformed into a spectral bat. And it turns out he can still use his sonic scream/ghostly wail while doing it.

So while playing in CW Tower in his new body, Danny discovers a portal he didn't see before with cool new things! And he did the only normal thing. He flew into it. If it were bad, clockwork would have stopped him!

Danny was now in Star City, and he helped the hero as a bat. He kind of likes this form; it's fun to use.

Green Arrow wasn't sure what he saw when he saw the bat use a Black Canary scream against the goon who was behind him.

But Oliver was a simple hero; he did dibs! As he saw the tiny bat with Dinah's powers.

He now has a new Meta Bat sidekick! An adorable white bat with green eyes.

Imagine his surprise as the bat turned into a tiny child! With black hair and blue eyes. Yeah, he and Dinah are now parents again! And Roy is a big brother.

Danny had no fun being taken with that hero. He seemed to be having fun, and he learned new things! If Vlad were this way without being creepy, he wouldn't have a problem with a mentor.

Danny's human form is him having a bow and arrow, and in his Bat phantom, he doesn't have it, but he uses ghostly wail and ghost powers. And flee if it's dangerous or he is tired.

Oliver walks most of the time with Danny sleeping in his green Arrow hood. When Danny is a bat and bored,

+ Danny was able to find the OG. Roy, who was 1 arm after a short time, Oliver asked Danny to find him. Danny took a short time to find him.

++ Yeah, Green Arrow had a Bat sidekick before Batman had one. Batman has just his Robins.

One of Danny powers is a small heal, so he helps as Arrow Bat the people in the city who are attacked by doing first aid.

#danny phantom #dc #dcau #dc comics #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp #dp + dc #Green Arrow #Bat Danny #Real Bat #Roy Harper #dinah lance #justice league #batman #young justice #Clockwork #Star city

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scentedpoetrywitch · 11 months

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every time blurr see’s arcee he make her feel very unconfertible by stammering at her and fall head over heals for her but blur is trying to get used to it because he only like ultra magnus as he liked blurr . the reason white blurr loved arcee because there both small and blurr is a part sea monster and arcee is an earthling .

#transformers arcee #transformers blurr #short man #thin man #sensitive man #gorgeous woman #average height woman #attractive woman #female robot #male robot #Blue Warrior #red warrior #Female warrior #male warrior

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reasonsforhope · 3 months

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Paywall-free version

On the outskirts of Austin, Texas, what began as a fringe experiment has quickly become central to the city’s efforts to reduce homelessness. To Justin Tyler Jr., it is home.

Mr. Tyler, 41, lives in Community First! Village, which aims to be a model of permanent affordable housing for people who are chronically homeless. In the fall of 2022, he joined nearly 400 residents of the village, moving into one of its typical digs: a 200-square-foot, one-room tiny house furnished with a kitchenette, a bed and a recliner.

The village is a self-contained, 51-acre community in a sparsely populated area just outside Austin. Stepping onto its grounds feels like entering another realm.

Eclectic tiny homes are clustered around shared outdoor kitchens, and neat rows of recreational vehicles and manufactured homes line looping cul-de-sacs.

There are chicken coops, two vegetable gardens, a convenience store, art and jewelry studios, a medical clinic and a chapel.

Roads run throughout, but residents mainly get around on foot or on an eight-passenger golf cart that makes regular stops around the property.

Mr. Tyler chose a home with a cobalt-blue door and a small patio in the oldest part of the village, where residents’ cactus and rock gardens created a “funky, hippie vibe” that appealed to him. He arrived in rough shape, struggling with alcoholism, his feet inflamed by gout, with severe back pain from nearly 10 years of sleeping in public parks, in vehicles and on street benches.

At first, he kept to himself. He locked his door and slept. He visited the clinic and started taking medication. After a month or so, he ventured out to meet his neighbors.

“For a while there, I just didn’t want to be seen and known,” he said. “Now I prefer it.”

Between communal meals and movie screenings, Mr. Tyler also works at the village, preparing homes for the dozen or more people who move there each month.

In the next few years, Community First is poised to grow to nearly 2,000 homes across three locations, which would make it by far the nation’s largest project of this kind, big enough to permanently house about half of Austin’s chronically homeless population.

Tiny-home villages for people who have been homeless have existed on a small scale for several decades, but have recently become a popular approach to addressing surging homelessness. Since 2019, the number of these villages across the country has nearly quadrupled, to 124 from 34, with dozens more coming, according to a census by Yetimoni Kpeebi, a researcher at Missouri State University.

Mandy Chapman Semple, a consultant who has helped cities like Houston transform their homelessness systems, said the growth of these villages reflects a need to replace inexpensive housing that was once widely available in the form of mobile home parks and single room occupancy units, and is rapidly being lost. But she said they are a highly imperfect solution.

“I think where we’re challenged is that ‘tiny home’ has taken on a spectrum of definitions,” said Chapman Semple. Many of those definitions fall short of housing standards, often lacking basic amenities like heat and indoor plumbing, which she said limits their ability to meet the needs of the population they intend to serve.

But Community First is pushing the tiny home model to a much larger scale. While most of its homes lack bathrooms and kitchens, its leaders see that as a necessary trade-off to be able to creatively and affordably house the growing number of people living on Austin’s streets. And unlike most other villages, many of which provide temporary emergency shelter in structures that can resemble tool sheds, Community First has been thoughtfully designed with homey spaces where people with some of the highest needs can stay for good. No other tiny home village has attempted to permanently house as many people.

Austin’s homelessness rate has been rapidly worsening, and the city’s response has whipped back and forth... In October [2023], the official estimate put the number of people living without shelter at 5,530, a 125 percent increase from two years earlier. Some of that rise is the result of better outreach, but officials acknowledged that more people have become homeless. City leaders vowed to build more housing, but that effort has been slowed by construction delays and resistance from residents.

Meanwhile, outside the city limits, Community First has been building fast. [Note from below the read more: It's outside city limits because the lack of zoning laws keeps more well-off Austin residents from blocking the project, as they did earlier attempts to build inside the city.] In a mere eight years, this once-modest project has grown into a sprawling community that the city is turning to as a desperately needed source of affordable housing. The village has now drawn hundreds of millions of dollars from public and private sources and given rise to similar initiatives across the country.

This rapid growth has come despite significant challenges. And some question whether a community on the outskirts of town with relaxed housing standards is a suitable way to meet the needs of people coming out of chronic homelessness. The next few years will be a test of whether these issues will be addressed or amplified as the village expands to five times its current size.

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024. Article continues below (at length!)

The community versus Community First

For Alan Graham, the expansion of Community First is just the latest stage in a long-evolving project. In the late 1990s, Mr. Graham, then a real estate developer, attended a Catholic men’s retreat that deepened his faith and inspired him to get more involved with his church. Soon after, he began delivering meals as a church volunteer to people living on Austin’s streets.

In 1998, Mr. Graham, now 67, became a founder of Mobile Loaves and Fishes, a nonprofit that has since amassed a fleet of vehicles that make daily rounds to deliver food and clothing to Austin’s homeless...

Talking to people like Mr. Johnston [a homeless Austin resident who Graham had befriended], Mr. Graham came to feel that housing alone was not enough for people who had been chronically homeless, the official term for those who have been homeless for years or repeatedly and have physical or mental disabilities, including substance-use disorders. About a third of the homeless population fits this description, and they are often estranged from family and other networks.

In 2006, Mr. Graham pitched an idea to Austin’s mayor: Create an R.V. park for people coming out of chronic homelessness. It would have about 150 homes, supportive services and easy access to public transportation. Most importantly, it would help to replace the “profound, catastrophic loss of family” he believed was at the root of the problem with a close-knit and supportive community.

The City Council voted unanimously in 2008 to lease Mr. Graham a 17-acre plot of city-owned land to make his vision a reality. Getting the council members on board, he said, turned out to be the easy part.

When residents near the intended site learned of the plan, they were outraged. They feared the development would reduce their property values and invite crime. One meeting to discuss the plan with the neighborhood grew so heated that Mr. Graham was escorted to his car by the police. Not a single one of the 52 community members in attendance voted in favor of the project.

After plans for the city-owned lot fell apart and other proposed locations faced similar resistance, Mr. Graham gave up on trying to build the development within city limits.

In 2012, he instead acquired a plot of land in a part of Travis County just northeast of Austin. It was far from public transportation and other services, but it had one big advantage: The county’s lack of zoning laws limited the power of neighbors to stop it.

Mr. Graham raised $20 million and began to build. In late 2015, Mr. Johnston left the R.V. park he had been living in and became the second person to move into the new village. It grew rapidly. In just two years, Mr. Graham bought an adjacent property, nearly doubling the village’s size to 51 acres and making room for hundreds more residents.

And then in the fall of 2022, he broke ground on the largest expansion yet: Adding two more sites to the village, expanding it by 127 acres to include nearly 2,000 homes.

“No one ever really did what they first did, and no one’s ever done what they’re about to do,” said Mark Hilbelink, the director of Sunrise Navigation Center, Austin’s largest homeless-services provider. “So there’s a little bit of excitement but also probably a little bit of trepidation about, ‘How do we do this right?’”

What it takes to make a village

Since he moved into Community First eight years ago, Mr. Johnston has found the stability that eluded him for so long. Most mornings, he wakes up early in his R.V., feeds his scruffy adopted terrier, Amos, and walks a few minutes down a quiet road to the village garden, where neat rows of carrots, leeks, beets and arugula await his attention.

Mr. Johnston worked in fast-food restaurants for most of his life, but he learned how to garden at the village. He now works full time cultivating produce for a weekly market that is free to residents.

“Once I got here, I said, This is where I’m going to spend pretty much my entire life now,” Mr. Johnston said.

Everyone at the village pays rent, which averages about $385 a month. The tiny homes that make up two-thirds of the dwellings go for slightly lower, but have no indoor plumbing; their residents use communal bathhouses and kitchens. The rest of the units are R.V.s and manufactured homes with their own bathrooms and kitchens.

Like Mr. Johnston, many residents have jobs in the village, created to offer residents flexible opportunities to earn some income. Last year, they earned a combined $1.5 million working as gardeners, landscapers, custodians, artists, jewelry makers and more, paid out by Mobile Loaves and Fishes.

Ute Dittemer, 66, faced a daily struggle for survival during a decade on the streets before moving into Community First five years ago with her husband. Now she supports herself by painting and molding figures out of clay at the village art house, augmented by her husband’s $800 monthly retirement income. A few years ago, a clay chess set she made sold for $10,000 at an auction. She used the money to buy her first car.

“I’m glad that we are not in a low-income-housing apartment complex,” she said. “We’ve got all this green out here, air to breathe.”

A small number of residents have jobs off-site, and a city bus makes hourly stops at the village 13 times a day to help people commute into town.

But about four out of five residents live on government benefits like disability or Social Security. Their incomes average $900 a month, making even tiny homes impossible to afford without help, Mr. Graham said.

“Essentially 100 percent of the people that move into this village will have to be subsidized for the rest of their lives,” he said.

For about $25,000 a year, Mr. Graham’s organization subsidizes one person’s housing at the village. (Services like primary health care and addiction counseling are provided by other organizations.) So far, that has been paid for entirely by private donations and in small part from collecting rent.

This would not be possible, Mr. Graham said, without a highly successful fund-raising operation that taps big Austin philanthropists. To build the next two expansions, Mr. Graham set a $225 million fund-raising goal, about $150 million of which has already been obtained from the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, the founder of the Patrón Spirits Company, Hill Country Bible Church and others.

Support goes beyond monetary donations. A large land grant came from the philanthropic arm of Tito’s Handmade Vodka, and Alamo Drafthouse, an Austin-based cinema chain, donated an outdoor amphitheater for movie screenings. Top architectural firms competed for the chance to design energy-efficient tiny homes free of charge. And every week, hundreds of volunteers come to help with landscaping and gardening or to serve free meals.

Around 55 residents, including 15 children, live in the village as “missionals” — unpaid neighbors generally motivated by their Christian faith to be part of the community.

All missionals undergo a monthslong “discernment process” before they can move in. They pay to live in R.V.s and manufactured homes distinguished by an “M” in the front window. Their presence in the community is meant to guard against the pitfalls of concentrated poverty and trauma.

“Missionals are our guardian angels,” said Blair Racine, a 69-year-old resident with a white beard that hangs to his chest. “They’re people we can always call. They’re always there for us.”

After moving into the village in 2018, Mr. Racine spent two years isolated in his R.V. because of a painful eye condition. But after an effective treatment, he became so social that he was nicknamed the Mayor. Missional residents drive him to get his medication once a week, he said. To their children he is Uncle Blair.

Though the village is open to people of any religious background, it is run by Christians, and public spaces are adorned with paintings of Jesus on the cross and other biblical scenes. The application to live in the community outlines a set of “core values” that refer to God and the Bible. But Mr. Graham said there is no proselytizing and people do not have to be sober or seek treatment to live there.

Mr. Graham lives in a 399-square-foot manufactured home in the middle of the village with his wife, Tricia Graham, who works as the community’s “head of neighbor care.” He said they do not have any illusions about solving the underlying mental-health and substance-use problems many residents live with, and that is not their goal.

“This is absolutely not nirvana,” Mr. Graham said. “And we want people to understand the beauty and the complexity of what we do. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on the face of the planet than right here in the middle of this, but you’re not fixing these things.” ...

From an experiment to a model

Community First has already inspired spinoffs, with some tweaks. In 2018, Nate Schlueter, who previously worked with the village’s jobs program, opened Eden Village in his hometown, Springfield, Mo. Unlike in Community First, every home in Eden Village is identical and has its own bathroom and kitchen. Mr. Schlueter’s model has spread to 12 different cities with every village limited to 50 homes or fewer.

“Not every city is Austin, Texas,” Mr. Schlueter said. “We don’t want to build a large-scale village. And if the root cause of homelessness is a loss of family, and community is something that can duplicate that safety net to some extent, to have smaller villages to me seemed like a stronger community safety net. Everybody would know each other.”

The rapid growth of Community First has challenged that ideal. In recent years, some of the original missional residents and staff members have left, finding it harder to support the number of people moving into the village. Steven Hebbard, who lived and worked at the village since its inception, left in 2019 when he said it shifted from a “tiny-town dynamic” where he knew everyone’s name to something that felt more like a city, straining the supportive culture that helped people succeed.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes said more staff members had recently been hired to help new residents adjust, but Mr. Graham noted that there was a limit to what any housing provider could do without violating people’s privacy and autonomy.

Despite these concerns, the organization, which had been run entirely on private money, has recently drawn public support. In January 2023, Travis County gave Mobile Loaves and Fishes $35 million in American Rescue Plan Act funds to build 640 units as part of its expansion.

Then four months later came a significant surprise: The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved the use of federal housing vouchers, which subsidize part or all of a low-income resident’s rent, for the village’s tiny homes. This will make running the village much more financially sustainable, Mr. Graham said, and may make it a more replicable blueprint for other places.

“That’s a big deal for us, and it’s a big deal on a national basis,” Mr. Graham said. “It’s a recognition that this model, managed the way that this model is, has a role in the system.”

Usually, the government considers homes without indoor plumbing to be substandard, but, in this case, it made an exception by applying the housing standards it uses for single-room-occupancy units. The village still did not meet the required ratio of bathrooms per person, but at the request of Travis County and the City of Austin’s housing officials, who cited Austin’s “severe lack of affordable housing” that made it impossible for some homeless people with vouchers to find anywhere else to live, HUD waived its usual requirements.

In the waiver, a HUD staffer wrote that Mr. Graham told HUD officials over the phone that the proportion of in-unit bathrooms “has not been an issue.” But in conversations with The Times, other homeless-service providers in Austin and some village residents said the lack of in-unit bathrooms is one of the biggest problems people have with living there. It also makes the villages less accessible to people with certain disabilities and health issues that are relatively common among the chronically homeless....

Mr. Graham said that with a doctor’s note, people could secure an R.V. or manufactured home at the village, although those are in short supply and have a long waiting list. He said the village’s use of tiny homes allowed them to build at a fraction of the usual cost when few other options existed, and helps ensure residents aren’t isolated in their units, reinforcing the village’s communal ethos.

“If somebody wants to live in a tiny home they ought to have the choice,” Mr. Graham said, “and if they are poor we ought to respect their civil right to live in that place and be subsidized to live there.” But he conceded that for some people, “this might not be the model.”

“Nobody can be everything for everyone,” he said.

By the spring of 2025, Mr. Graham hopes to begin moving people into the next phase of the village, across the street from the current property. The darker visions some once predicted of an impoverished community on the outskirts of town overtaken by drugs and violence have not come to pass. Instead, the village has permanently housed hundreds of people and earned the approval and financial backing of the city, the county and the federal government. But for the model to truly meet the scale of the challenge in Austin and beyond, Chapman Semple said, the compromises that led to Community First in its current incarnation will have to be reckoned with.

“We can build smaller villages that can be fully integrated into the community, that can have access to amenities within the community that we all need to live, including jobs and groceries,” Chapman Semple said. “If it’s a wonderful model then we should be embracing and fighting for its inclusion within our community.”

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024

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