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blindmagdalena · 4 months

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'Neath the Mistletoe

1k homelander x gn!reader. pure christmas fluff. 🎄inspired by anon. thank you!

When you and Homelander make the decision to go public with your relationship, Vought seizes the opportunity to capitalize on the announcement with a seasonal photoshoot.

There is nothing more quintessentially Christmas than kissing your beloved under the mistletoe. Naturally, Homelander has been anticipating it since the first whispers of the season began to carry on the air.

However, this was not at all how he’d imagined it would happen. He’s been in front of the cameras his entire life, he’s used to it, but you aren’t. You’re tense in his arms, gaze flickering out to the crew, paying more attention to how you’re presenting in front of the camera than you are to him.

It’s hardly the romantic venture he dreamt of.

“Hey,” he whispers, bringing your eyes back to him. You look like a deer in the headlights. He probably looked the same way during his first real photoshoot. Still, he tries to calm you by assuring you, “You’re doing great.”

“How many of these are we going to have to do?” You ask quietly, your tension creeping into your voice.

He frowns. He knows you’re nervous, but it really squeezes out any romance lingering in the moment to think you’re dreading how many more times you’re going to have to kiss each other. If it were just the two of you, it wouldn’t matter. He’d kiss you a dozen times for each mistletoe he saw. A hundred times. He’s got years and years spent without you to make up for.

Huh. Now there’s a thought.

“Hey, let’s take five,” he calls to the crew. Immediately, he feels you relax against him.

“Thank you,” you sigh, squeezing his forearms. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to complain–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he soothes, already fixated on his brewing plot. He leans in to kiss your forehead and gives your hips a pat. “Lemme go get you some water, ‘kay? We’ll bang out the rest of these photos, and then we can get to bangin’ out in private,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh, giving him a playful little push, and he seizes the opportunity to split off and not only grab you a water bottle, but to pull Ashley aside for a quick word, whispering it in her ear.

Ashley’s eyes widen. She pulls back sharply to stare incredulously at him. “By the end of the shoot?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, smiling. “And wipe that fuckin’ look off your face before you’re seen,” he says, giving her arm an unfriendly pat that jostles her slightly. She immediately schools her expression, glancing at you. Luckily, you’re busy briefly dissociating while you recover from the flash of cameras and the bustle of the crew and makeup department.

“Right… Yes, sir,” she says, frantically pulling out her phone the second his back is turned.

Homelander returns to you with a crisp bottle of water and kisses your cheek reassuringly. “Almost done,” he promises you, rubbing your back. “And then I’ve got a treat for you back at my place.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you drink. “Is it something to do with ‘bangin’ out’?”

“More like rockin’ around,” he says, breaking into a cheeky grin while the two of you move back into position.

Just shy of an hour later, the shoot has finally wrapped up–no thanks to Ashley’s thinly veiled stalling–and Homelander is eagerly guiding you back to his penthouse, your hand held firmly in his. Pausing at the door, he peers through it, ensuring everything looks right before he opens it.

Glancing down at you, he steps to the side as he swings the door open, gesturing you inside. “After you.”

That way, he has the perfect vantage to admire your shock as you’re blindsided by the sight of dozens upon dozens upon dozens of sprigs of mistletoe hanging from every doorway, light fixture and arch in his entire penthouse.

“Did you somehow not get enough kisses on set?” You ask playfully, reaching up to bat lightly at one of the hanging mistletoe. They’ve all been secured in place with some kind of clear tacky little bits of paste.

“Not familiar with this concept of ‘enough kisses,’ “ he says, miming quotation marks before dropping his hands to his hips, admiring the work he put into demanding this be done. They did a decent job, all things considered.

You turn around to face him, beaming as brightly as any shining star.

God, you look… beautiful. Backlit by the glittering Christmas lights decorating his penthouse–the cast of them warm on your skin–you give him a melancholic sense of nostalgia for something he’s yearned for his entire life, but never known. You look cut straight out of every Hallmark moment he’s ever dreamed of. You look the way Christmas does in the movies. You look like home.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you, your face cradled delicately in the warm, soft leather of his gloves. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, slipping his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He leans into you the way he wanted to throughout the entirety of that goddamn photoshoot, taking so much more now than those chaste little kisses. They had only served to whet his appetite for you.

You sigh against his lips in a way that drives him insane with hunger, pushing your hands into his perfectly styled hair, thoroughly mussing it. He pushes further into you, forces your back to bow until he’s snaking his arm around your waist and becoming the only thing holding you up as he dips you in this fervent, aching kiss.

When he does finally relent and draw back, you suck in a breath, your cheeks flushed warmly, your eyes bright and glimmering in the twinkling lights that surround you both.

“God,” you exhale, licking your lips. “Now that was a kiss under the mistletoe.”

Homelander glances up at the mistletoe dangling above you, and then back down. His smile is equal parts warm and wicked. “One of many to come.”

“I don’t think my lips are going to survive it,” you say, but your eyes betray your excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs. You give a giddy little yelp as he effortlessly lifts you up into his arms, settling you against his chest. He kisses you again and again, one for each mistletoe you pass on the way to his bedroom. “These lips aren't the only part of you getting thoroughly kissed tonight.”

He made sure there was extra mistletoe above the bed.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #ho ho homelander

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hauntedheroines · 4 months

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Dark Ships from 2023

It's not the greatest year for villain/heroine or problematic ships I must say. It was really hard to find new juicy stuff but here is what I came up with by order of preference:

Homelander x Starlight (The Boys)

Homelander x Maeve (The Boys) - in a smaller scale

Agatha x Dracula (BBC Dracula)

Eren x Mikasa (Attack on Titan)

Debbie x Nolan (Invincible)

Ikaris x Sersi (Eternals)

Motoko x Puppet Master (Ghost in the Shell (1995))

Charlie x Charles (Shadow of Doubt)

Alice x Luther (Luther)

Gabriel x Michael (Star Trek Discovery)

Guts x Griffith (Berserk)

Happy holidays, everyone!

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life-of-kalos · 1 year

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(@casteliacityramen) Rio (not really noticing that the Ho-Oh God is in human form):

Hey, uh... got an idea what the shortest route to Ecruteak City is from here?

“Ecruteak City? As in, Johto’s, Ecruteak City?” Harumi looks sympathetically at Rio. “I’m sorry dear, you’re actually in Kalos…”

@casteliacityramen

#ask #ho oh #pokemon #harumi #rockruff #casteliacityramen #gijinka #look at the pup #and his little food stand on his back #Harumi would love a taste from her homeland #thank you for the ask!#act 1: bleeding heart

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kinnoth · 1 year

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Dude

Aurora borealis -> bifrost, the rainbow bridge connecting Midgard to the realm of the gods y/y??????

#thanks i JUST made that connection #shocking to me that all depictions I've seen of bifrost have just been a literal rainbow tho #would possibility help to convince the Norse that they had a special relationship with their gods #bc the polar lights arent visible except in their homeland #<- making shit up wholesale i actually don't know a lot about the norse #(who does really; thanks for not writing ANYTHING DOWN YOU HOS)#(extra thanks to snorri for christianizing fucking all the mythology he could get his nasty little hands on)#internal thor tag

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keroujack · 2 years

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*throws brain on the floor* there! I just finished binge watching the boys and I must say: this shit is bonkers ! also, I fucking loved it, like, really fucking loved it. Kimiko better not actually die tho, ‘cause I get attached easily and she’s now my boo, no take backsies. plus jackles? like, wow, did I really just watch that “rapture” performance or was that a fever dream?! you were right tho, soldier boy’s first scene to “rock you like a hurricane” = fucking gold, I’m now a smear on the ground (plus it reminds me of billy’s entrance in st to the same song). so, pretty great show, 10/10 would recommend. can’t wait for the next ep !!

yesssssSSSSSSS OMG I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!!!!!!! billy's entrance is EXACTLY what rock you like a hurricane made me think of. the guitar came in and i literally lost my mind. i've been saying for months that i think jackles is gonna fuckin eat this role and i'm so excited he's like. Here For Real now so that i can be right. also. kimiko is my fave (mm close second), she better be okay and i think she will be? ig she just won't have her powers anymore bc kripke said that that lil soldier boy explosion fries the compound v out of supes. it's weirdly? frenchie? that i'm nervous about something happening to this season??? idk what it is. but frenchie, quick get behind me

#me on a platform with a megaphone: antony starr emmy WHEN #the inevitable soldier boy threatening homelander scene oh ho hO i'm shaking like a wet chihuahua just thinking ab it #i'm literally so excited that you're watching it u have no idea jfkdsakksa #ask #pixieandthehawk

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uwmspeccoll · 7 months

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Indigenous People's Day

DR. HENRIETTA MANN Cheyenne

On this Indigenous People’s Day, we are featuring Matika Wilbur’s recent publication Project 562: Changing the Way We See Native America, published by Ten Speed Press in 2023. Wilbur (b. 1984) is a visual storyteller and member of the Swinomish and Tulalip peoples of coastal Washington. She holds a degree from the Brooks Institute of Photography alongside a teaching certificate that has shaped her style of educating through narrative portraits.

Project 562: Changing the Way We See Native America, a book born from a documentary project of the same name, resolves to share contemporary Native issues and culture. In 2012 Wilbur set out from Seattle to visit and photograph all 562 plus Native American sovereign territories in the United States.

Wilbur’s engagement with the communities she visited resulted in the creation of hundreds of dynamic portraits and documentation of conversations about “tribal sovereignty, self-determination, wellness, recovery from historical trauma, decolonization of the mind, and revitalization of culture.” She refers to her portraiture approach as “an indigenous photography method” that includes several hours and sometimes days of interaction with the participants, an exchange of energy and gifts, and asking sitters to choose their portrait location. The outcome is a stunning collection of Native narratives and portraits.

GREG BISKAKONE JOHNSON Lac Du Flambeau Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians

HOLLY MITITQUQ NORDLUM Iñupiaq

J. MIKO THOMAS Chickasaw Nation

MOIRA REDCORN Osage, Caddo

HELENA and PRESTON ARROW-WEED Taos Pueblo/Kwaatsaan, Kamia

STEPHEN YELLOWTAIL Apsáalooke (Crow Nation)

LEI'OHU and LA'AKEA CHUN Kānaka Maoli

ORLANDO BEGAY Diné

KALE NISSEN Colville Tribes

GRACE ROMERO PACHECO Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians

ISABELLA and ALYSSA KLAIN Diné

NANCY WILBUR Swinomish

DR. JEREMIAH "JERRY" WOLFE Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians

RUTH DEMMERT Tlingit

MARVA SII~XUUTESNA JONES Tolowa Dee-Ni' Nation, Yurok, Karuk, Wintu

Matika Wilbur will be speaking on UW-Milwaukee's campus Thursday, November 16 from 6-7p.m. in conjunction with her exhibition Seeds of Culture: The Portraits and Voices of Native American Women on view at the Union Art Gallery November 16 through December 15, 2023.

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern

We acknowledge that in Milwaukee we live and work on traditional Potawatomi, Ho-Chunk, and Menominee homelands along the southwest shores of Michigami, part of North America’s largest system of freshwater lakes, where the Milwaukee, Menominee, and Kinnickinnic rivers meet and the people of Wisconsin’s sovereign Anishinaabe, Ho-Chunk, Menominee, Oneida, and Mohican nations remain present.

#indigenous people's day #matika wilbur #project 562 #Ten Speed Press #Native Americans #holidays #UWM Native American Literature Collecton

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yawarakaizai · 7 months

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pm dazai and pm chuuya who constantly fight each other for readers attention... but then someone hurts reader and all of a sudden they work together so seamlessly to kill the mf who dared to touch you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

ⵌ YOU'RE QUITE THE SAME IF LOVE'S THE GAIN

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM!Dazai Osamu + PM!Chuuya Nakahara (BSD) CONTENTS jealousy, reader+chuuya+dazai are 16/17, reader is an heiress, hostage situation, fluff n cute!! (implied) torture, worried chuuya NOTE This wasn't the department you specialised in. You wanted to manage finances, and while Mori was more than happy to grant you the role - Dazai would nag for you to join him and Chuuya on missions that didn't concern you in the slightest. There's only so much patience one can have. COMPANY Tangled Up

A/N THI S WA S RLL Y C UT E !! sorr y this one was l ate ;//; i hav e a scho o l trip tmrw ^^// maybe i'l l t ry sm ut nex t ... i have a l ot of good re qs i ho pe i ca n ge t throu gh the m a ll ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Missions with Dazai and Chuuya always resulted in a thrilling adventure. There was never a time you'd look back on a mission you'd had with both and say to yourself, 'that was a bummer.'

You weren't supposed to work alongside them. Within the Port Mafia, Dazai and Chuuya were always to be assigned missions that were too dangerous for someone ordinary.

And, you? Well.

You possessed no ability. Your purpose in the Port Mafia was your background - your status.

Heiress to your father's wealth in your homeland of France, your parents were part of a certain elite group that made you a walking target should you venture without protection.

That is why you were always thrown as the bait.

With all respects to Dazai, that is, who introduced to Mori the idea of having you be the helpless, dumb damsel skipping merrily into danger.

You weren't happy about this arrangement and that was made clear by your sulking.

" Oh, look at me, I am an unattended woman. "

You sluggishly wandered around the dark halls of the abandoned facility, your voice just barely loud enough for the walls to echo your sarcastic jokes.

" This is serioouuuss! " The earpiece cleverly hidden in your ear crackled into life, you knew the voice belonged to Dazai. " Been chasing this guy for ages now, I think he's got some sort of phasing ability. He might appear outta no where, but Chuuya's trailing behind you, so don't worry. "

As if it could ease your nerves, it only made you regret agreeing to this further. " Great. I'm comforted. " You replied in a snarky manner.

You were dressed in lavish clothing that not even your pompous, arrogant mother would ever think of wearing. You seemed to have a distaste for reminders of the generational wealth you possess and opt to distance yourself from a 'royal' life. It proved impossible when it was the only thing that allowed you to maintain a job in the Port Mafia.

The gloomy and cold atmosphere left you hugging yourself for warmth as you traversed through complicated corridors. Although your earpiece was not connected to Chuuya's, you worried that you were walking off-course and/or Chuuya knew where you are meant to go, but could not blow his cover to correct your stupid mistakes.

Chuuya did a pretty good job at staying hidden. You could not hear a thing other than the clacking of your heels against metal flooring. " Ohh.. I'm so scared. " You pitched your voice higher, this being your best shot at luring out whoever it is the PM were after. You weren't taking this seriously, that was clear to both Dazai and Chuuya.

This wasn't the first mission you three were together, there were a few others that you'd two go through but this was the first time you were thrown a seal to a shark.

Dazai was elsewhere in the building, you weren't sure where and he gave no information when asked. With the affirmation Chuuya had your back, you knew that there was nothing to fear.

You would have appreciated some communication on his end though. You figured it must be his unnatural shyness towards you that made it hard for him to be too forward.

You easily noticed how his behaviour would change around you. And with Dazai around? Oh, boy.

Even if you could be a little air-headed sometimes, you weren't dumb to the hints in front of you.

From the day you were rescued from captivity - a story for another day - Chuuya stood out. You find it funny how he'd be unable to face you for more than a minute before looking away hurriedly. It sprung your new-found hobby of teasing Chuuya whenever you could. Of course Dazai picked up on it pretty soon after too and Chuuya has not known peace since. You couldn't help it! You weren't to blame! You giggled to yourself reminding yourself of Chuuya's little crush, fingers intertwined behind your back loosely, your back straightening from its previous hunched-over stance.

Feeling sudden confidence surge through your veins with the recollection of memories with Chuuya, you were just about to turn on your heel to address the gravity manipulator until a hand grabbed you from behind - before you had the chance to see who it was, you felt cold metal press against your temple that made you freeze up.

In front of you, Chuuya had finally revealed himself, but he too was stood as still as stone.

" Kill me 'n the girl goes too. "

They have never let it get THIS bad. Not ever have you ever even been in the hold or this close to an enemy, and here you were at gunpoint, something that was not planned.

You didn't dare break eye contact from Chuuya. This might just be your final moment. With great trust in Chuuya and Dazai's ability, you weren't sure how they'd proceed with this.

Chuuya might end up being the last thing you see. The look of fear on his face too didn't ease your nerves. They were not in the position to bargain. And funnily enough, you blamed yourself for this.

" Fine, yeah. Let her go. " Chuuya stood up from his mid-offensive position and dropped whatever weapon he had. A gun and a small knife for close-combat, he raised his arms above his head to firmly show his surrender. The hand that was previously on your lower hip raised to roughly cover your mouth, a gloved palm shoving itself in your face and that broke you down immediately. Fear took over and your knees went weak with pure fright, yet the man behind you had his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek with such a harsh grab that it kept you standing up-right, the barrel of the gun pressing in deeper to your skull, sure to leave indents - that is if you weren't just shot dead. Then an indent would be the less of your worries.

With your back pressed against the chest of the stranger, you could feel the vibration of his confident voice as he spoke loudly, " Don't take me for a fool, Nakahara. You could easily use that ability of yours. " And that was true. You actually forgot about Chuuya's ability. Your mind was too foggy at the moment.

It was the first time you saw Chuuya Nakahara look uncertain in whether this mission would end well or not. He smiled insecurely as he let out a gruff exhale, " Wouldn't do that if I wanted her to live, yeah? Now let her go. "

Even if he kept grinning, you could see how the sweat dripped from his face even through your own teary eyes. With the palm pressing over your mouth and nose, it was difficult to breathe and steady your heart that was already beating fast enough as it is.

" Hmm.. " The gun was lowered slowly, caressing down your cheek and to your chest before being positioned at the pit of your stomach, " But do I really wanna? "

You began to squeal in protest, unable to accept your helplessness but it seemed someone else did your job of retaliation for you.

In the blink of an eye, the man holding you captive fell backwards and consequentially dragged you down with him but ended up tripping you up a bit further. You fell with your head banging on the hard floor, your captors hand slipping from your mouth and allowing you to briefly ‎gasp for air. The clattering of a gun was heard somewhere yet you were too dazed to properly do anything at this point.

The last thing you remember was the feeling of being raised from your underarms and distant shouting.

" -as if she'd be able to do-"

" No, you shut up! You could've done something easily. "

" It was your idea to use her as a fuckin' pawn, don't twist this. "

" Uhh! I'm sowwy~! I thought Chuuya Naka-fucking-hara had some balls to intercept~! "

" Zip it! She's waking up! "

Groggily, you stared at the two of them, sitting opposite each-other on the end of your bed. Judging by the bright white, you were most likely in the infirmary.

Chuuya was the first to lean in, he must have not noticed his hand coming to rest over yours which were folded nearly over your stomach. He had hope in his eyes, contrasting with the emotion you last remember them in. " Y/N? " He called out to you, taking a glimpse at the steady heart monitor.

Testing your voice, you let out a low hum before croaking out a meek, " Heya. "

Dazai was the first to break a laugh at your first words. His and Chuuya's eyes were soft.

" Don't look cute, I'm pissed at you both. " You huffed, turning your head to the side, avoiding them both.

Chuuya held your hand a little tighter, he understood if you decided to be unhappy with him. " Sorry, Y/N. I really fucked that up. Shit, I just didn't know what to do. " He explained himself with such compassion you were urged to look at him again. " I guess I discovered seein' you like that. Uh. In trouble and stuff, makes me seize up badly. "

From the corner of your eye you saw Dazai huff before standing up, but Chuuya held onto your attention as he continued speaking tenderly to you, " I thought that this loser would have planned a set-up and knew that was gonna happen but. It took too long. I realised last second he didn't plan shit. "

" Hey! Don't be so rude, Chuuya~ Besides, if it weren't for me, precious princess would've been shot. " You saw Dazai reach into his back pocket for something you couldn't quite recognise yet.

" Oh, that was you, Dazai? " You asked, alluding to the sudden drop during the action. " Yuup~ And y'know what the best part is? "

You quirked a brow and stole a shared glance from Chuuya. Dazai was unexpectable.

" Since me and Chuuya are so nice.. "

So Chuuya was in on this too?

Dazai paused his sentence and hummed in a baby-ish voice. " Kill me and the girl goes too! " He mocked, earning him an earnest giggle from you. " That wasn't funny, Dazai! I was scared! " You retorted, but still couldn't wipe that smile off of your face.

" Sorry, sorry. But, like he wanted, he's not dead. "

Dazai held the object he had pulled out in front of him. Bloodied priars.

" Technically death caused by unattended injuries is not 'killing him' on MY end, isn't that right, Chuuya? "

Chuuya nod his head before you.

They have that man locked in a fucking basement.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

#chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #pm dazai x reader #pm chuuya x reader #dazai x reader x chuuya #bsd x reader

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tylermileslockett · 9 months

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Hellenic Polytheism or Hellenismos is the traditional, polytheistic (multiple gods) religious belief system of Ancient Greece. Modern people who believe in pre-Christian and polytheistic belief systems often refer to themselves as pagans. Let’s look at some of the general practices of typical Hellenic worship.

Hellenic Polytheists use altars or shrines to worship specific Gods within the Greek Pantheon. For example, an altar for Apollo may contain an image or sculpture bust of the god, as well as a side table, called a trapezōmata, which holds offerings of incense and flowers or food and drink such as wine, honey, milk, or olive oil. Another tripod incense holder was called a Thymiateria.

Before engaging in a ceremony, the practitioner will employ purification methods with lustral water (ritually cleansed). They may recite hymns or prayers in honor of the god, using the Homeric hymns for example. The practitioner may use a divination practice to seek guidance or gain insight from a god through methods like casting lots, reading signs from nature, oracle prophecies, and dream interpretations. In their ceremonies, ancient Greeks would perform rites in respect to their Ta Patria, (ancestral homeland heritage), and they would take pride in their reverence with Hos Kallista, or the highest level of beauty.

Hellenic Polytheism follows annual calendar festivals commemorating Gods or famous mythological events such as the Panathenaia in Athens (commemorating Athena), the Anthesteria and City Dionysia; (festivals celebrating Dionysus) The Olympics (a physical competition in honor of Zeus) and the Thargelia, (dedicated to Apollo and Artemis), and the Thesmophoria, (a festival exclusive to women in honor of Demeter), among many others.

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in October.You can also sign up for my free email newsletter. please check my LINKTREE:

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charactersiwouldfuck · 1 month

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The homelander AKA John Gillman

I already told you ho's that I have problems and I will not be taking any constructive criticism at this time, you may speak to my lawyer, but it must be known that if he ever gave me a chance, just one chance, I would remove my wisdom teeth and my tonsils just to get his dick down my throat far enough that my nose could press against his pubic bone.

#john gillman #homelander #charactersiwouldfuck #homelander x reader #the boys #the homelander

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homelanderbutbig · 5 months

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I Did It For You (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2433 words. Hurt/comfort. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are harassed by a scuzzball co-worker, and Homelander is a bit too forceful in protecting you.

You have been dating Homelander for a couple months now, with this fact hidden from the rest of Vought. However, you were fortunate enough to transfer from your boring desk job to become Homelander's personal assistant, allowing the two of you to spend more time together without suspicion. While most of your former co-workers are confused as to why you would take such a dangerous position, you shrug off their concerns and keep your real reasons to yourself.

One evening after a considerably busy workload, you are separated from Homelander to finish up some paperwork before signing off for the night. Making your way down the halls of your old floor, you are approached by one of your prior co-workers.

"I'm surprised to see you here again", they say, which is a bit baffling to you. The entire time you'd worked with them, not once did they return your attempts at small talk.

"I just had some forms to deliver to my old manager," you explain, trying to resume your stroll. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my boss". However, your previous co-worker blocks your path, reaching their arm out in front of you.

"Hey now, what's the rush?" they question, getting a bit too close for comfort as they invade your personal space. "You afraid that oversized supe is gonna throw you off the Tower like every other assistant he's had?"

You can't hide the glower forming on your face when they insult Homelander like that, causing them to chuckle at you.

"Come on now," they snort, eyeing you up and down. "We all know something is going on between you and that giant freak. You've lasted this long without him killing you, and you don't think anybody's noticed? You have some kinda dirt on him, dontcha?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I'm just doing my job," you counter, again trying to end this awkward chat, but you are startled as they roughly grab onto your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

"Tell me what you know," they sneer as their face is right in front of yours. "I haven't been working at Vought this long to be upstaged by some newbie. You know something, and you aren't leaving without sharing."

"And what do we have here?" a voice suddenly reverberates through the hallway, causing you both to jump. You don't even have to turn around to know who has arrived, and you know for a fact he's been listening in on this whole conversation. You just pray that he's not in a bad mood.

"H-Homelander!" your co-worker stutters, letting your wrist go as they are unable to mask their unease seeing the leader of The Seven smiling down at the two of you. He rarely ever comes to this floor, and if he does it's never for a good reason. "W-We were just catching up on work matters, nothing to concern yourself about!"

"Ah ah ah," Homelander smugly retorts, wagging his finger as he leisurely saunters closer to your co-worker, forcing them to stagger backwards into the wall as he looms his massive form above them. "Don't you fucking lie to me". Although Homelander still has a smile painted on his face, it's obviously laced with venomous intent.

When your co-worker tries to flee, they are swiftly halted by his large hand enveloping their arm, just as they had done to stop you moments ago. In one quick flick of his wrist, he breaks their arm as easily as one would snap a graham cracker.

"How pathetic," Homelander scoffs, dropping his fake smile. Without any emotion, he ignores your co-worker's screams as they fall to their knees, writhing in pain. He bends down to snatch them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them back onto their feet. "You really are just fucking scum."

"And scum like you don't deserve anything," he snarls, baring his fangs. Wrapping one hand around your co-worker's neck, he effortlessly hoists them up and pins them against the wall eight feet in the air.

"Homelander, no! STOP!!" you gasp as your co-worker fruitlessly tries to break free from his iron grip, frantically kicking their legs while struggling to pull the large hand away from their throat. You grab onto his thigh, in a futile attempt to shake some sense into a brick wall.

Since starting your job at Vought, your co-workers have told you rumours about Homelander's inescapable rage. Sure you've seen his temper flare at the drop of a hat over something minor, but you're always there to calm him down. Around you, he's never gotten this mad before, and it terrifies you that he's not listening to your outcry.

You can see Homelander giving into his fury, his eyes turning red from his laser vision activating as he relishes torturing this mudperson by slowly applying more pressure to their windpipe. This worm dared to touch the only thing in the world he treasures, and he intends on making them pay. Once your co-worker's legs start to go limp, you know he is seconds away from killing them. In this moment you are aware that you only have one option left to attempt to stop him.

"JOHN!!" you shout, finally enough to grab his attention. Briefly turning his gaze to you, his face twitches involuntarily.

"Don't… don't call me that," Homelander snaps back at you, sounding more like a plea than a demand. Although his expression remains angry, he squeezes his eyes shut while breathing heavily through his nose. Thankfully, you can tell this was enough to have broken through his tough guy persona to the tender little boy he hides inside.

When Homelander first told you his birth name, 'John', he insisted you only use it in situations where you two are alone, and when he is comfortable enough. This name is the last piece connecting himself to his childhood, and he still has trouble dealing with the memories it conjures. Hearing it makes him feel small, vulnerable, and… human. You've seen how much he gets affected by you calling him 'John', even in an entirely loving way, and you understand it's something he only prefers on his own terms. However, you know you had to do something to stop him from murdering this person.

"John, please," you persist, ignoring his request. You reach up to caress his free hand, which is tightly clenched as he tries to control his conflicting emotions. "It's alright. I'm fine."

Homelander slowly relaxes his fist and allows you to weave your fingers around his own. Opening his eyes again, he looks tentatively down at you. While his outrage is beginning to soften, his pupils are still glowing red. His other hand is starting to release your co-worker's throat, albeit very reluctantly.

"Please put them down," you plead, massaging his hand while you refuse to tear your eyes away from him. "It's okay now. Everything's okay". You know he'd never laser you, and you need him to know you trust that he won't either. Luckily, he seems to understand your message as the light from his eyes slowly dims and his blue irises return.

There is a sudden thud once Homelander abruptly frees your co-worker from his grasp, dropping them hard onto the floor. At first you are alarmed that the fall could have done more damage because they appear to be unconscious, but you are relieved to at least hear them still breathing.

Looking back up to Homelander, you notice the last of his ire has vanished, now replaced by an intense distress as he comes back down and registers what he has done. It's not the near murder that's upset him, it's hearing your rapid heartbeat and smelling your cortisol levels spiking from fear. He's gone too far, and now you're frightened. He wants to say something, to put his bravado back on display and reassure you this mudperson doesn't deserve your compassion. However, he is just as petrified as you are, unable to form even basic sentences while his body is frozen in place. His mind is going a hundred miles an hour, convincing himself that you are going to realize that he is a monster and leave him.

As much as you are afraid by what has just occurred, you have come to learn the easiest way to diffuse situations like this is to soothe Homelander's anxieties. In a way it is a little disconcerting to you, having to be the one to tell him that everything's fine after what he's done. It's like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, life and death dependent on making sure Homelander feels loved.

And yet, over the weeks you have gotten close to him… you want to be that person. You want to swaddle him with your devotion, because although he hides it from everyone else, he truly is broken. His life has been nothing but tragedy, a neverending nightmare that he has been forbidden to heal from. He deserves to be loved, and there is never a day that goes by where he doesn't display his ceaseless gratitude to everything that you do solely for his happiness.

"Could you please pick me up, sweetie?" you ask softly, raising your arms up to signal your intentions. Homelander swallows timidly, his lower lip quivering as he fights a losing battle with his tears. Carefully, he bends down to raise you up and cradle you in his arms. Propped up to be eye-level with him, you can readily discern the profound fear in his eyes, apprehensively waiting for you to speak first.

"I know you were just trying to protect me," you say, petting his cheek. He leans into your hand, chasing for affection. "And I'm grateful that you were there to help, but…" you trail off, biting your lip. You are trying to think of the best way to put this without making him more distraught.

"I don't like seeing you hurt people," you express firmly, immediately noting how hard he is trying to conceal his pain at hearing your disappointment in him. He hates letting you down, it reminds him too much of how miserable he was everytime he displeased Madelyn.

"I… I-I did it for you," Homelander whispers faintly, angling his head lower to do his best not to look you in the eyes. He doesn't want to catch a glimpse of your face, worried that he will be forced to see your grievances for his actions. Regardless, he feels your tiny hand moving from his cheek to under his chin in an effort to redirect his vision. You lack the strength to actually lift his massive head up, but he doesn't want to frustrate you anymore than he already has, and obediently does what you want. To his surprise, you don't look irritated… you only show sympathy.

"I know baby, I know," you console him, resting your forehead on his while you nuzzle into his nose. "Please, just… no more violence, okay?" you stress, bringing both of your hands back up to scratch his undercut. You feel him nod at your words as he closes his eyes and deeply sighs, completely melting into your touches. If there's one thing he would never do, it's go against your wishes. Under no circumstances would he willingly deprive himself of you.

Suddenly, Homelander's expression goes sour once he hears your co-worker finally awaken, roughly gasping for breath. You both glance over to see them rubbing their sore throat with their good hand as they shakily stand up, their back against the wall to support their battered body. When they eventually regain their bearings, they are shocked to spot you in Homelander's arms.

"Leave," Homelander states, staring daggers into them. The one thing he wanted to avoid has now happened; someone has discovered your secret relationship. Their hesitation to move only seems to anger him more, causing his face to twitch and contort into a menacing grimace.

"I SAID LEAVE!!" he yells, his voice booming throughout the hallway as his rage reignites his laser vision. Fearing for their life, your co-worker doesn't waste a second more as they run away as fast as their unstable gait will allow, disappearing down the hallway.

Homelander keeps his eyes focused on them, following their movements with his X-ray vision to ensure they don't come back. You can't stop yourself from feeling intimidated by the incredible heat emanating from his eyes, which fortunately dissipates when he redirects his gaze back to you.

"They're going to tell everyone about this," you fret, trying to ignore how cognizant you are seeing how quickly Homelander's demeanour flipped back to fury. He reminds you of a child when he does things like this; he really isn't the best at regulating his emotions.

"They'll stay quiet if they know what's good for them," he declares, still looking quite serious with his brows tightly knit together. "I'll make sure of it."

"Promise me you won't hurt them again," you fuss, doing your best to calm him down by bringing your palm back up to his cheek. "I know they're a horrible person, but just… promise me, please."

Like magic, your caresses return Homelander to the pliable state he was in before, efficiently wiping away all of his exasperation. Again, he sinks into your hand and nods to agree with your request. He hopes you recognize the level of restraint he is showing not ending your pitiful co-worker's life. This isn't something he'd do for just anyone, he only wants to be good for you.

"Vought will deal with them," he assures you, speaking from experience. This isn't the first person he's injured on purpose that the company has had to pay off, but this is the first instance where he is actually grateful humans are greedy enough to accept these bribes.

Homelander doesn't want to worry you anymore, he just wants you to be proud of him. You're always there to save him, and he's messed up his initial chance trying to do the same for you. More than anything he wants to see your face light up as he swoops down to guard you from danger, to show you his true power as he fights off the vermin of the city, or anyone that would even look at you the wrong way.

Even if you don't want him to, he's always going to be there to protect you. And one day, he yearns to show you the same level of care you give him, when you shelter him from himself.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing #i struggle to write homelander mean #he's a baby boy 😢

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blindmagdalena · 9 months

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The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn. ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from.

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it. However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel.

What the fuck?

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed.

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don��t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust.

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent.

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up.

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you.

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips.

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them.

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows.

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #depowered homelander #i was originally just going to edit the original post but #i couldn't add a title to it that way #so have a brand new post lol #i never posted this one to ao3 because i always meant to do this #so i'll cross-post this later #also i think i want this to serve as the foundation for my depowered HL verse #especially that one where he's seemingly lost his powers for good #my writing #ho ho homelander #enjoy some wildly out of season christmas btw lol

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alexaloraetheris · 1 year

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Finally watched Goncharov (which was hell to find, but yo ho ho!) and excellent homoerotic subtext aside, what really shot me straight in the heart was... Katya's whole arc. The way she falls apart no matter how hard she tries to hold her life together. She's a working class Russian woman who runs from her homeland because she blames herself for the crime that wasn't actually her fault. She meets a rising mob boss in the foreign land and he's the first familiar thing she sees and she clings to him. She becomes the mob wife, and builds the empire, but any power she has is dependant on her leverage on her husband, and their marriage is slowly but inexorably falling apart. She seeks solace in Sofia and Yelena, one of which is manipulating her, and the other is just being paid to listen to her and pour her drinks. The man her husband is fighting a bloody yet emotionally charged war with is the only one who actually listens to what she's saying, and he's doing it in his own interests as well.

I mean, what the hell else was she supposed to do in the end? Her life had fallen apart for a second time, and this time she sees the writing on the wall. The clock is literally ticking right before her eyes, she feels her time running out. And all that anger, rage, betrayal and alienation that's been building up throughout the movie, and even earlier, culminates in that bullet.

And like so many things in her life, it misses the target. She shoots her husband, the source of her 'power', and her truest love, and she misses.

She 'dies' for the second time, possibly for real, and she has to restart her life, whatever it might be, just wait for it to fall apart again.

Just. The whole tragedy of Katya's arc... God, it hits me straight in the kidneys. Like, she gritted her teeth through so fucking much, she held the entire empire by her bare bleeding hands, and it still fell apart. Like, the tragedy of it all... Fuck. I mean, the movie is a mess of all the things Mateo couldn't NOT shove in but Katya felt like she was written specifically to make me cry.

#goncharov #unreality #katya goncharov

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romanpaulov · 1 year

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Yo-ho-ho! Today celebrate their birthday- incredible Lev (レフ, Лев, Refu) and-and-and… his beautiful sister Lastochka (Ласточка)!!!🎂

On this day nine years ago - May 15, 2014 - these beautiful fluffs born in the Novosibirsk zoo in the family of Khan from St. Petersburg and Marquise from Poland: Lev, Lastochka and Altay (Алтай) (he’s not Altay from Izhevsk).

Lev, as all you know, moved to Japan and became a real star there, Lastochka stayed in Novosibirsk and became a mom for many wonderful manuls, and their brother Altay moved to his father's homeland - to St. Petersburg (unfortunately, he passed away last year 🌈). Such different lives of equally beautiful and beloved cats❤️

Happy birthday to Lev son of Khan and Lastochka daughter of Khan! We wish both of you strong Siberian health, warm and cozy houses and delicious meats! Be happy, darlings!🎉

1st photo – Lastochka, 2nd photo – Lev. Alas, we do not have photos of Altay from Sain-Petersburg.

#manul #манул #furrycat #manul cat #pallas cat #cat #wildcats #furryfriends #pallascat #wildanimals

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honeybubblebeeeeee · 6 months

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EXILE || Kylo Ren x Fem!reader

Exile by Taylor Swift but it's you and Kylo

Tw: Straight angst honestly

You and Kylo had a falling out. Not just a falling out. A full on terrible break up. Words were said, threats were made. You were tired of begging Kylo for the bare minimum. You had split a few months ago and had successfully avoided each other. But you knew you'd see him tonight at the First Order ball. You chose a black dress with deep red accents that hugged your body in all the right places, a thigh slit up the side and a deep neckline. One Kylo had picked out for you long ago. Did you wear it so he would look at you? Maybe, but you would never admit to it.

Your date was not someone you knew well, just someone who had worked in your division and had asked you to go. You wanted to apologize in advance for the backlash he would receive from Kylo but you didn't. You swayed together to the music that played as other couples danced around you. His arms were wrapped around you pulling you closer than you had really wanted to be to him as your eyes scanned over his shoulder for the darkness that had shadowed you for so long. Your date whispered something in your ear, something that was probably supposed to be funny but you weren't listening as your mind was occupied, you forced a laugh anyway. I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughing but the joke's not funny at all

Kylo stood in the hall outside the ballroom. The doors were slightly open, enough that he could see you without you seeing him. He felt his skin crawl as your date's hands caressed the skin that was uncovered by the openness of the back of your dress. The one he got you. His jaw clenched as you smiled and laughed at something your date whispered in your ear.

And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holding all this love out here in the hall

Kylo wanted to rip his arms off of you and drag you out of there. You had not even been apart that long. Months maybe, but that was nothing to Kylo. He would never think of another person again and here you were already in the arms of another. You were still his regardless of what you thought. He scoffed as you left the dance floor to sit at a table hand in hand. Kylo had thought you wanted space. That is why he left you alone these past couple months. You were the only place Kylo felt comfortable, he might say safe even. He felt like he was watching from behind glass, like he wasn't really here. Everything he did was for you, so why were you acting this way?

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seeing you out I think I've seen this film before

Kylo pulled the doors open wider and stormed into the room. People looked to him as he stalked to the side of the room farthest from you. You didn't even look past the man sat in front of you to look at him. It only angered him more. I can see you staring, honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

You forced yourself not to look as Kylo stalked into the room. He of course haunted the corner directly in your line of sight if you looked past your date. You could feel his eyes burning into you. Your date excused himself a moment as a group of men called him over.

You looked directly to Kylo. You could almost see the violent tendencies that were crawling under his skin at the sight of you with another man. Not that the man meant anything. Kylo would make him temporary even if he did mean something. You couldn't help but shake your head and look away.

Second, third and hundredth chances Balancing on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

You had given Kylo more than enough chances for years to give you more than the bare minimum. You had begged and cried and hoped he would act like you were more than something replaceable. He was cold and unforgiving. In all honesty, you never really knew how he felt about you because he would never tell you.

You looked up and made eye contact with him. The look on his face made you wince. At first glance he looked angry and you were sure he was but his eyes, his eyes looked almost teary. Hurt.

You looked for your date, who seemed to have found someone else to be more interested in. That was probably for the best.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown Now I'm in exile seeing you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leaving out the side door

You stood abruptly and moved quickly to the smaller door behind you to leave. You couldn't stand to be here anymore. To see him stare at you like a neglected puppy when you were the one who had been neglected. You slipped through the door, walking quickly down the hall when the door opened behind you and heavy footsteps followed you.

So step right out There is no amount Of crying I can do for you

A gloved hand grabbed your arm and whipped you around as tears fell from your eyes. Kylo gripped your shoulders as he stared into your eyes, jaw clenched. All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) "What do you want Kylo?" Your voice broke as it left your lips.

"Why were you with him? I gave you space like you wanted and this is what I get in return?" His voice was cold as always.

You scoff and shake your head pulling away from him. "Space? Really? When did I EVER ask for SPACE?"

He stares at you, unmoving as if his brain cannot process the words.

"All I have ever wanted is for you to act like you actually give a shit about me Kylo." You spun to look to him as he continued to stand there emotionless. You scoff and shake your head. "And for the record we have not been together this entire time, we are not together right now so it does not matter who I am with." You turn away from him but his voice stops you.

"When was it decided that we were not... I did not realize you did not want to be with me" You let you a chuckle, he couldn't even say you were together.

"Kylo, how many times did I beg you to stop treating me like I was temporary? Did you not hear me every time I told you I couldn't do this anymore?" The look on his face made you feel like maybe you really hadn't said it out loud but you know you did.

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs So many signs (You didn't even see the signs)

"You don't understand or you don't want to understand? What, did you think I was avoiding you for fun these past few months? That I removed all my belongings from your room just for something to do?" You threw your hands up in defeat. Again as usual, he still showed not a single emotion.

He opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly.

"I'm done Kylo." You turned away and made haste in escaping him. He didn't follow this time. He hadn't seen the signs.

His hands bunched into fists at his side as the ring in his pocket burned a hole in him.

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

#kylo ren x reader #kylo fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo #kylo angst #kylo ren

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laineystein · 6 months

Text

I know that the media would have you believing that war is constant and ruthless but sometimes it’s a lot of sitting around and waiting for orders. And a lot of talking. Really introspective talking. And the things that people say when there’s a very real chance that they might die, are probably the most poignant and well said. So here’s a conversation my unit had in a million different ways with a million different words:

We love beings Jews. We love being Israeli. We can’t imagine being anything else or belonging to any other group. But this statistic that we are 0.2% of the worlds population has been so much more than a statistic lately. We all feel it. We feel how so much of the world has turned their backs on us — how the same people that posted those stupid blue squares on instagram are now using language that calls for our genocide and the destruction of our homeland. We know that for so many people we are pawns in their political game. We know that so many people think we are sub-human and therefore deserving of less respect than any other person. We don’t need anyone to tell us what they think of us because so many people are showing us by what they’re doing or not doing. And that’s okay. We’re used to it. We’ve always been alone. We’ve always fought (and won) our own battles. We’ll win this one without any of you. It’s fine. But it makes me think about how the same people that alienate us are the ones that critique how we live in insular communities (like the neighborhood I grew up in Crown Heights) and how our religion is closed and how we don’t need a place (read: Israel) where we all live together (assumedly because no other group has such a place — which is just a total lie). And there’s this thought amongst many Jews that communities like the one I grew up in in Brooklyn exist as a result of the persecution we faced. Just like there’s this thought that Israel exists because of the Holocaust. The survivors of the worst thing that can happen to a group decided to live together and close out the outside world. Now I’d argue that we certainly haven’t closed anyone out in Israel - I’m currently serving with Israelis that are Arab and Druze. But is our country very Jew-centric? Absolutely. Just like Crown Heights is very Jew-centric. Goyim can/do live and visit Crown Heights but it is a place that caters to what is otherwise considered a counter-culture in America. Just like Israel caters to Jews in an area of the world where all of us were expelled. We are fine living in these places. We have created these communities and curated them to our Jewish way of life. But people wonder why we close ourselves off and why we need special spaces - and that same ignorance is the answer. Sure, our diets are different and we have laws about how we go to school and work and pray that make it very difficult to live in a non-Jewish world but there’s a very real truth that so many people are scared to say aloud so I will: We don’t trust goyim. Goyim have never stood up for us or protected us. Only we can keep ourselves safe. Only we truly care about our wellbeing. We do not feel safe around goyim. And I think we have every right to be distrustful. We have every right to think that our survival and security rests solely in our fellow Jew. So while this has all proven that the Jewish people are amazing and loving and stronger than even we knew, it’s also only cemented this idea that we absolutely need our own world. And it’s clear that we’ve essentially lived in our own world all this time anyway - our world view is not your world view. Our experiences are so incredibly different than the goy experience. If you’re not Jewish and especially if you’re not an Israeli Jew, you can’t possibly understand any of this. And that’s fine! But don’t get angry when, in the absence of your support, we’ve figured it out. And don’t be upset when your Jewish friends - Israeli or not - have pushed you away because you didn’t show up in the way they’d hoped. You’ve merely proven us right. We do not need you. Our communities are enough. Our country is enough. Together, we will outlive you.

#let a girl kvetch #let a girl kvell #I really don’t know which one fits better here #⚔️🇮🇱#we will outlive you

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