foxborn @vulpuslunae - Tumblr Blog

vulpuslunae- (n.) a fandomless oc blog with heavy influences from pop culture. forever wip. written and loved by val. mutuals only.

a study in duality, mythology/fantasy and dark topics that can make anyone uncomfortable. any in-character (ic) threads on this blog is a work of fiction and should not be treated as reality.

start here. dossier. known universes. verse shortlist. memes. open starters.

ask me for my other blogs idk.

#ooc: valentina #//sike one day i can come up with a new promo :)

writing hinokari's drafts and decided to choose violence instead.

#ooc: valentina

vulpuslunae

💬 (for one hot pyromancer)

miharu's unhinged thoughts, i mean feelings @sasorikigai

The hangar hums with its mechanical roar - engines cooling, metal groaning, hydraulics hissing and mechanics beginning their checklists. She hears none of it. Her pulse is still too fast. Her breathing, she's trying to slow down. Adrenaline flows through her veins and her breath shudders even as her aircraft has already landed, and she has yet to realize the damage of her bird, of Strikecoil and she just knows that her bird will need to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Miharu Yamaguchi had disobeyed him.

Eight months, twelve deployments. The second time she'd disobeyed him, through the comms where everyone else listening had heard.

Hanzo approaches behind her - slow, controlled. Always unhurried. Deliberate.

"Yamaguchi."

He speaks in that cadence, low, precise. Disappointed, if he let it show. Which she knows he will not. She knows he will not give her anything.

She straightens, though her body aches with the pilot's exhaustion and every single muscle in her body is in flames. She straightens anyway, spine rigid. Expression frozen and yet the shadow of tiredness lingers.

"Commander."

He stops in front of her. Obsidian eyes with tiny flickers of amber-gold like flecks of sparks under a different light at a different angle. He pauses, deliberate.

"You disobeyed a direct order."

I know, she thinks.

She says nothing. Her expression is frozen, but her eyes no longer hide the flares beneath her stubborn determination, her stubborn conviction that what she did was appropriate and that she'd do it again and again if she had to. They narrow, her feet planted on the ground.

"I told you to stand down."

Her jaw tightens. He will not miss it. She is no longer masking it either.

"You jeopardized the mission."

Silence.

"Nearly compromised us all."

She remains quiet. Bracing. Hanzo is not nagging; she knows this. He isn't the type to ever nag. He is reprimanding her with facts. She does not deny them.

"And you almost got--"

He doesn't finish. She knows where this is going: You nearly got yourself killed.

The silence between them is thick. Palpable. Uncomfortable for lesser soldiers. But neither of them is lesser, and Miharu lets the silence simmer, her mind assembling the correct sentence to say to him.

He will want an explanation, she thinks. She knows. She flew too recklessly, and the weight of command was heavier when her plane was caught in the crossfire, because she'd engaged enemy fire towards her instead of the ground team that should have been the targets.

Miharu stands there, pain spreading through every muscle fibre in her body; spine locked into a rigidity as her jaw. Her pulse still roars in her ears too fast, too loud.

Hanzo watches her - waiting, and he is extraordinarily good at waiting, unyielding and precise and expecting the truth in which a portion will make into the reports, and the rest will find the pages of her journal when she finally has a chance to breathe.

She breaks the gaze, the eyes that once find him - resolve faltering. She never falters. And yet, whatever something is, was, had been - it gave. An inward collapse. Or perhaps maybe something bent than crumbling.

Hanzo closes the distance between them. Three feet become two. She feels him, feels the burning. His fire, her foxfire cannot help but recognize. Her foxfire responds to it, flares like the ones behind her eyes when she tried to stand her ground just a breath ago.

"Explain why you did that," he says quietly. His eyes do not leave her. And he will not miss the part where there is a conflict in her eyes. He would already know this even if she looked away. He expects her to deflect. She always does this.

But he has decided, after the seventh month, after the ninth deployment, that she will keep doing it. And it is up to him to leave the door open. He has learned this from the last time she deviated. She did not disobey last time, only deviated. And still, she drew fire to her, because Miharu Yamaguchi is a pilot who engages fully.

He knows why. He knows that she knows.

But the naming helps, he has learned. In a language that he still does not possess, and she translates it into one that he can understand. Because if the reason for her insubordination is something beyond technical issues, then it only confirms what he already knows.

Something in her chest tightens.

"Look at me, Miharu."

Miharu. Her given name. Not Yamaguchi. Not the rank.

She swallows.

"I could not watch you die."

Hanzo goes still. She continues. Her voice trembles and the admission costs her. Everything.

"I knew what was going to happen. And I have--"

Her breath hitches. "I have watched you die before."

The words detonate.

Her voice cracks now. "I remember seeing you die. In another life. In another time. I don't know how. I don't know why. I just remember losing you. And I cannot--I cannot do that again."

She does not tell him: I saw the blast radius closing in, and I knew where you were.

She does not tell him: I knew the timing, the outcome and I already know this.

She does not tell him: I already lost you once.

And then she is quiet.

sasorikigai

▬▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| Something in him answers before he understands it - not thought, but recognition, old as scar tissue, old as a wound that never quite closed.

He does not move. For a long moment he only watches her, obsidian eyes gone strange, gone distant, as though he is looking through her rather than at her, through the hangar and the oil-stained concrete and the years, back to a place bathed in the copper stink of his own blood.

Because he remembers.

Not clearly. Not as men remember mornings or names or the weight of a rifle. He remembers it the way the body remembers falling - a plummet the mind refuses to hold onto, a cold that arrives before the wound does.

He remembers lying somewhere that was not this life, gravel or stone or dust beneath a back that would not stop leaking warmth into the earth, and a voice above him he could not place and could never forget. A voice cracking the way hers cracks now. Saying his name like it was the only rope left to hold. He remembers the ember of himself - small, stubborn, clinging low in his chest like the last coal in a dying fire - guttering. Guttering and refusing, and then not refusing anymore. He remembers surrender dressed up as peace. He remembers the exact moment his life stopped fighting to stay and simply left, quiet as smoke through fingers, and how cold that leaving was, colder than any winter his current body has known, hollow in a way flesh should not be able to survive being hollow. And then - nothing. And then, impossibly, something. A flicker. A single stubborn flame cupped against a gale that should have smothered it a hundred times over. A candle in a storm that had no business surviving the night, and yet.

He is standing in front of her now, and he does not know if the ember was hers. He does not know if she was the storm or the cupped hands. He only knows that some locked and rusted door in him has, for the first time in this life, moved on its hinges.

None of this reaches his face.

"Miharu." Her name again, low, unchanged. Not gentler than before - he does not offer her gentleness, does not know yet if he is capable of it, or if she would even want it from him dressed as anything but honesty. "You disobeyed me because you were trying to keep a dead man from dying twice."

It is not a question. It is not comfort, either. He lets it sit there between them, plain and unadorned, a blade laid flat on a table rather than pressed to a throat.

"I do not know what you saw. I do not ask you to prove it." His jaw is granite, but something moves behind the obsidian, gold sparking faint and involuntary, like flint struck once in the dark. "But you wear three stripes and a call sign because you can be trusted to choose the mission over yourself. That is the order I gave. That is the order you broke."

He does not soften the words. He will not pretend the report writes itself differently because of what she has just handed him - her grief, her impossible memory, laid bare on the hangar floor between them like something still bleeding.

"You will not do it again," he says. Quiet. Absolute. Not because he doubts what she remembers. Because he remembers too, now, in the marrow, in the ash-cold place where an ember almost did not relight - and a commander who lets his pilots die chasing his ghost is no commander at all.

His eyes hold hers, unflinching, amber flickering like something old, something recognized, something neither of them yet has language for.

"Whatever you saw," he says, "you do not get to trade yourself for it. Not for me. Not for anyone." ▬▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥||

vulpuslunae

The words land.

Like blade pressed against her neck.

You were trying to keep a dead man from dying twice.

Miharu does not know if that is the case. In another lifetime, Hanzo had been so alive - the kind of alive that for a moment she had been terrified and worried that it did not take long before he was gone from her life. One deployment where she'd been the one who clasped her hand on the controls, with hands steady as her breath, and she'd deployed the missile, and he'd been caught in the blast radius without being given a chance to recalculate and the seconds counted and there had been a voice on the radio who insisted on deploying the strike - she doesn't remember if in those past lives it had been him, or someone else - she suspects it had been him, and the memory had surfaced midflight, her fingers hovering over the button that would deploy the blow that would not only annihilate their enemies from above but those who are within the blast radius.

For a moment, the sky doubled - present sky overlapping with a sky that was not of this lifetime, vision tunnelling longer than a breath, tightening beneath her sternum which should not be there, the heat of a remembered explosion lingering on her skin before it materialized, the half-second stutter of a breath - all of which have been the catalyst of her coiling, her flying insultingly low, flying into enemy crosshairs with one thought only in mind: protect him and his men, divert fire that's targeted for the ground unit.

The rest of that life's memory fades, but it did not make it any less difficult to process, to learn that this was that moment, of many others where the skies have turned against her, and his life was the cost - his life over hers always, it seems and in every other iteration where one of them must perish.

She remembers the moment the order came through the communications line - a different frequency only between a commander and his pilot. Clipped. Decisive. No hesitation. Deploy the strike.

Whence before, her thumb immediately pressed on the trigger, after having locked her target, breath steady the way she had been trained all her entire career, something in her instead coiled.

Recoiled.

The deviation that cost them another three seconds.

In those three seconds, she saw the terrible memory resurfacing, clear as day: the blast blooming outward, devastating orange swallowing metal and sky and him. The familiar shockwave from a previous lifetime in the aftermath that should not exist in this timeline. The vibration through her bones. Cockpit lights flickering. The silence that followed.

The static going completely silent.

She had lived that once.

She cannot painfully relive that again.

But.

She would do it again.

That is perhaps the most honest and reckless thing about her. She broke formation, drew fire to herself. A nine-second dive after she'd flown high up, once the enemy target systems found her, and she'd flown up, as though she were racing against time - missiles on her tail while her aircraft protested in blaring alarms, straining against gravity with every incremental increase in altitude. She'd flown with a quick acceptance of the calculus that the sky might finally deliver its verdict with her life on the scale.

She does not regret it. She positioned herself on the enemy's targeting systems toward her, toward not her tail but her head, before diving. She remembers the alarms screaming in her cockpit, blaring through her ears and through the radio frequency that for a moment feels like a lifeline to the ground, the sky narrowing into a test of survival.

But she remembers too the relief when his voice returned through the static silence - the same relief that eludes her now because she is bracing for his disappointment. She kept flying as if nothing happened.

"Alright, drinks on Morrison when we get back, folks," she'd cracked a joke on the radio comms, knowing well that everyone who listened in would know she made it to the other side of the battle.

But when she landed, she braced for the punishment she already knew would come as a consequence.

The rest of the memory has dissolved now, fully. But the remnants of the feeling remains, which he does not ask, and she will not tell him until he is ready to receive it. If he wished to even know the truth in which she has arrived in that disobedience:

In every sky, in every lifetime she exists as his pilot, the cost has always been the same: his life over hers.

He is standing in front of her now, and she just knew that the trajectory of the strike had felt so familiar, she could not help but let instinct drive her, before she could actually think, and the next thing she did was to invite enemy fire and redirect their focus to her, and shield the man who had already become an anchor to her since her first month in this unit, only to deviate from the executes until the deviations have accumulated into something like now.

She didn't know why she felt drawn to him in this lifetime, a man whose fire hers recognizes, until she'd been transferred to his unit, without the fluency of the language that she'd learned in previous lifetimes.

This time, she does not look away.

She forces her breath, wills it to steady - steadier than before, even though something inside her tightens instead. Folds inward, like instinct.

"But you do."

Three words. Unadorned. A version of her truth that she offers. The truth that he has already demonstrated since he'd become her commanding officer, since she had learned of the way he leads - the soldier who leads at the front, who finds himself within the battlefield, leading the charge with his people - who are now with just a short amount of time, also her people.

The frozen composure breaks, fractures the way has found an opening within the stone's surface, eroding layer by careful layer, sediment by incremental sediment, and it is the thing she will permit him to see.

She does not tell him that she will do it again.

"You are asking me not to be the pilot that the war has made me. Not in the skies, I cannot do that."

A beat.

A breath.

"They need you."

In the quiet that follows, she lets him see the part of her that seems to always have chosen him even before her arrival, before her landing, even when the sky did not.

#ic: miharu #sasorikigai #au: the operative

clairesbeauchamp

OUTLANDER: BLOOD OF MY BLOOD (2025 -)

1.02 S.W.A.K (Sealed With A Kiss)

#relationships tag #sasorikigai

dingyuxi

MY ROYAL NEMESIS 멋진신세계 (2026)

#relationships tag #thoughts: miharu #sasorikigai

updates from science camp:

we have pizza for lunch on day 1 and we have coffee and donuts for the morning. and shirts. volunteer satisfaction seems good.

hoping to be writing a lot tonight since day 1 crazies have been settled.

#ooc: valentina

eroticamagica

#sasorikigai #relationships tag

mcflymemes

PROMPTS FOR YEARNING, LOTS OF YEARNING... * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i had a dream about you last night.

i remember every single kiss you took from me.

you are my everything.

i feel the same way about you.

where you go, i follow.

you're mine. you've always been mine.

i'm in love with you to the point of breathlessness.

after all this time, you still give me butterflies.

you make it hard to breathe, you know.

you fixed me. you fixed my broken heart.

i will not go another breath without you.

i crave you.

i need to be close to you.

i think i've loved you since the day we met.

i'm with you.

you touched me, and i came alive.

the universe isn't big enough to hold the depths of how i feel for you.

are you sure we're not dreaming?

kiss me again, and don't stop this time.

i can't bear the thought of living without you.

you complete me.

i want all of you. every piece of you.

i won't lose you again.

you're the most important person i have ever known.

the universe gave you to me.

you're the answer to every question i've ever had.

i want you close. i want to feel you sigh.

how am i supposed to do this without you? i can't.

all i love i knew before... it's nothing like the love i have with you.

you changed everything. everything looks different now that you're here.

i'm not ready to let go of you.

i want you safe. i want you close to me.

you fixed all of my broken pieces. you stitched me back together.

nothing will take you away from me.

i love you in every language and in every song.

i need you.

i'd rather die than let you go.

i need a whole day with you, spent in bed, just the two of us.

all that i am and everything i'll ever be belongs to you.

do you have any idea what you do to me?

stop looking at me like that. i can't focus.

you can't expect me to just... wait like this.

don't go. do that again, please.

you are everything i could ever want.

i was an empty shell until we met. i was a haunted house, darkened with pain, and you turned my lights on.

you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen.

i'm always going to be madly in love with you.

if you don't kiss me again, i'll die.

i crave the taste of your kiss.

i can't believe you're real.

if you only knew what you did to me...

there aren't enough words to explain how much i love you.

i love you more than anything.

a life without you isn't a life worth living.

don't let go of me.

you're the only one that matters.

you don't know what you do to me.

pretty sure i've fallen in love with you four times today.

you're my love.

lay with me. be with me.

they don't know you the way i do.

don't give up on me. don't give up on us.

you know what that does to me.

not even the poets could properly describe what you mean to me.

i miss the way it felt to be touched by you.

you are the sun and the stars and every other golden thing in the universe.

am i dreaming? is this real life?

i was living life half-alive until i met you.

i've never needed anyone like i need you.

please take my hand. hold it and never let go.

i love when the sun hits your eyes. you're glowing.

be with me tonight.

i've only ever wanted you. just you.

#prompts: memes

ok i did some writing. i'm off to mobile and sending memes if you reblog em. winding down. wrote a good chunk of that headcanon about miharu's fire/foxfire but i am sleepy and i have a long weekend ahead of me.

#ooc: valentina

miharu glares 101 - a guide