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sully-s · 2 months

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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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elder-millennial-of-zion · 1 month

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I miss the days, way back when before October 7, when I felt like I was part of leftist circles. I miss feeling energised by leftist slogans because I thought they included me, instead of targeted me.

I miss hearing “eat the rich” and not hearing it as a dog whistle for “kill the Jews.” I miss feeling inspired by phrases like “our struggles for liberation are all connected,” instead of hearing its real meaning, “the Jews are the evil puppet masters behind everything and the world must unite against them.” I miss believing that when leftists talked about punching up at their oppressors, it wasn’t just an excuse to punch down at more vulnerable minorities that they decided were their oppressors despite all evidence to the contrary.

I miss the days when the left poured into the streets to protest cops and corporations instead of protesting Jews. I miss updating myself on those protests so I could join them, instead of to know which areas to avoid because they’ll be Judenrein for the day.

I don’t wish my eyes hadn’t been opened. I’d much rather see the truth no matter how painful and disillusioning it is, because the alternative isn’t actually “bliss.” It’s having a perpetual nagging feeling that something’s off but I can’t put my finger on it, or if I can then I must be overreacting or imagining it’s worse than it is.

But that pain and disillusionment is very real. That loss is very real. It was a community I thought I belonged to, a community I put a lot of work and energy into for many years, and there is grief at the loss of it. Grief that it’s gone, grief that it never was what it claimed to be in the first place. I guess I’m grieving the loss of that part of my identity. And grieving the loss of how people I thought were my friends and allies perceive my identity. Grieving the illusion that they were ever my allies at all, that they ever would be my allies if I needed. Because I haven’t really changed, but the way my former circles look at me completely changed. People who thought I was a good person and a good ally on October 6 decided I was the devil incarnate very literally overnight.

The person who privately reached out to me a few years ago to thank me for a Facebook post I made defending sex workers, because as a former sex worker they appreciated it. Now they’ve been posting antisemitic blood libel, the kind of rhetoric that’s already gotten Jews killed, for six months straight. I tried to tell them how much pain it causes me as a Jew to see their posts, and they only doubled down. It truly is their loss. I was a good friend and a good ally, and they threw me away because I’m a Jew. But it’s totally not because I’m a Jew, it’s because I’m the evil kind of Jew, the kind that just so happens to be the profile of ninety percent of the Jewish population.

I’m grateful I have such a strong sense of Jewish identity, because otherwise the loss of identity in this other way would be far more destabilising. I get why so many people cling to their political identities no matter how much cognitive dissonance they have to wave away; why they insist their ideology is righteous no matter how much evidence to the contrary. Without any other solid identity they would feel too adrift. But that doesn’t excuse their behavior. It’s not ok to jump on a bandwagon to persecute and kill Jews because you want to belong to something that badly, because you can’t handle your sense of self evolving with all the growing pains that come with it.

So many progressive Jews like myself have described ourselves as “politically homeless.” (Specifically in the diaspora; I know the political framework in Israel is completely different.) We can let ourselves sit in that grief. Being homeless is painful and uncomfortable, but it’s better than staying in an abusive home.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #anti zionism is antisemitism #politically homeless Jews #israel #jumblr

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pickingupmymercedes · 16 days

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Maybe in another life - Lewis Hamilton

Part 2 is here: When I get to meet you

request: "hello can do heavy angst? ... lewis faces the consequences of his stupid actions? like he grovels a lot and suffer a lot. just ripped my heart open with your writing i dont care 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: Blood, Miscarriage, Asshole Lewis

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Angsty anon, that was a hard one to write. I changed the request a bit, hope it's okay. I just really don't picture him cheating with someone so close to someone he loves, specially since his relationships are very open (as of now, anyway), the rest is still there.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

TRIGGERING CONTENT UNDER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

The white of the hotel room walls seemed to closed in on Lewis as he reread the final line of the letter. "I needed you to know." Y/n's words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the roar of the city outside. Every muscle in his body tensed. It couldn't be true. He reread the entire thing, a cold dread settling in his stomach with every sentence.

The letter started with a casualness that ripped at him further. It was a stark reminder of the way they started – a fling fueled by adrenaline and an undeniable connection.

Then came the bombshell. The night she stormed into his Monaco apartment, the one he'd dismissed with a callous "call me later," wasn't just about a fight. It was about a child. Their child. Shame, hot and acrid, burned in his throat. He'd been a fool, blinded by fleeting pleasure, while she carried the weight of the future alone. Their future.

Tears pricked at Lewis's eyes as he read about her decision to keep it, to raise a mini-him, a mini-her, even without him. A part of him swelled with pride, a terrible, conflicting emotion considering how things ended.

The next part though, stole his breath, and even in the second read was still hard to stomach.

He learned about the miscarriage, the brutal way it unfolded – a sharp pain waking her in the quiet of the night, the rush to the bathroom, the crimson staining everything. The helplessness, the loneliness of it all. He should have been there. He should have held her hand, whispered reassurances. But all he'd offered was a dismissive phone call, months before.

Y/n's words about wishing he was by her side echoed in his mind, a constant refrain. The regret, raw and searing, threatened to consume him. He pictured her, alone, grieving a child they both would've never meet.

The letter continued. She spoke of the physical and emotional toll, the weeks that followed, a blur of doctor visits and a silence so deafening it screamed louder than any argument. She told him about leaving F1, needing a clean break from the world that constantly reminded her of what could have been.

The final paragraphs struck him with a force that left him reeling. "Maybe in another life, Lewis.” Another life. A life where he wasn't a self-absorbed champion, where he saw the woman behind the reporter, where he understood the depth of the love she carried, in her heart, and even for a few months in her womb.

Lewis crumpled the letter in his fist, the weight of his mistakes crushing him. The roar of the city outside mocked him, a reminder of the life that went on regardless of his private turmoil. He wanted to call her, to apologize, to somehow bridge the chasm he'd created. But the letter offered no contact information, and the knowledge that it might be too late settling heavy in his mind.

He sank onto the plush hotel bed, the opulence offering no comfort. He was a champion, a winner, and yet he'd lost the most important race of his life – the one for a future he’d thrown away in a haze of selfishness.

Now, all that remained were the ghosts of what could have been, a forever reminder of the price of his arrogance.

_________________________________________________________

Hi Lewis,

I don't want to blame you for any of what I'm about to tell you.

Our story wasn't exactly a fairytale romance, and I knew full well the kind of life you led when we started seeing each other. But somewhere along the line, things started to feel different. Maybe it was the late-night talks after Monaco, or the way you looked at me after a win, a genuine joy that went beyond the cameras.

Whatever it was, I fell for you, harder than I ever thought possible.

That night in Monaco, when I walked into your apartment, the smell of something I shouldn't have smelled. Then I saw the girls, the half-empty bottles, the porno on repeat. I was disappointed.

But deeper than that, I was scared, so damn scared. I needed to talk to you, Lewis, not just about the obvious, but about something more, something monumental.

See, the reason I was there, the reason my voice was shaky and my eyes probably held a storm you couldn't understand, was because I was pregnant, we were.

We were going to have a baby, Lewis. A tiny little person, half you, half me.

The thought had terrified me at first, the responsibility, the unknown. But then, this strange sense of calm. Maybe I could do this. We could do this.

I'm not gonna lie, I thought about ending it, the pregnancy. And that night made the doubt so much greater.

I need you to know I called the abortion clinic. Twice. I even scheduled a date. But I couldn't do it.

Turns out the universe had other plans.

It was still early, barely into the fourth month, but I swear I could already see a hint of a bump. Just the tiniest swell beneath my usual clothes, a secret I carried close.

I imagined late nights with a fussy baby, the smell of milk instead of the usual post-race adrenaline.

I pictured you, maybe not holding the baby because you were off winning another championship, but calling, checking in, a flicker of pride in your voice.

Naive, I know.

For a couple of days, there was just a feeling, a vague unease that settled low . Like a distant echo of discomfort, easily dismissed with a deep breath and a glass of water. But then, the backache started. A dull ache that settled and radiated outwards. It felt familiar, a dull echo almost like cramps, but different somehow. Deeper, more insistent.

The night it happened, I woke up with a sharp pain ripping through me, from the inside out. It stole my breath away, leaving me gasping for air. Panic clawed at my throat as I scrambled out of bed, a cold dread pooling in my stomach. I didn't make it to the bathroom in time, the crimson stained my clothes, the bedsheets, the mattress.

The smell of blood clung to everything in that bedroom for weeks.

The doctor confirmed it in the emergency, a hollow echo in a sterile room. I had a curettage to get the rest of tissue out.

The weeks that followed were a blur. Doctor visits, tests, a crushing silence that spoke louder than any argument we ever had. The grief was a physical weight, a constant ache in my chest.

I also need you to know that through it all, I mourned the life I couldn't carry to term, the tiny flicker of hope that had bloomed within me and that I couldn't keep safe.

That's on me, and I take full responsability.

I couldn't handle F1 after that. The constant reminder of what could have been, it was suffocating. And leaving was an incredibly hard decision, but I needed that. I had to move on.

Maybe in another life, Lewis. Maybe then things would have been different.

Maybe, I would have told you about the day our child started school, all jitters and excitement, a backpack bigger than their little body. Or maybe I would have been showing you their first wobbly steps, a mess of giggles and misplaced feet, a tiny us with ours eyes.

A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind.

This isn't a plea for a response. I don't even know if you'll read this all the way through. Maybe you'll crumple it up and toss it aside. God, maybe I hope you do. But I needed you to know.

- Y/n

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine

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bird-inacage · 3 months

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Net x James: An important reminder that BL partnerships consist of two individuals and they are not just a single entity.

So the Netjames news has been a notable bombshell in the fandom of late, and I've been quietly observing this as it unfolded earlier this week, particularly the varying reactions and discourse around it.

In his statement, James explained that his current career goals are moving in a different direction, which has resulted in him pulling out of 'Love Upon a Time', and by extension his acting partnership with Net. He wants to explore his other avenues as an artist, whereas Net is presumably focused on acting for now.

With BL partnerships, we often see the two co-stars tied at the hip. Its part of the gig and it comes with the territory. They don't just work together on their project, but they do a huge amount of activity (both public and private) outside of that. They travel, perform, they do fan meets, press events, and spend a huge amount of time together as a twosome. So we get accustomed to seeing them as a united entity, which means news like this tends to hit harder because it feels akin to a divorce. This is one of the pitfalls of the Thai BL industry. When you create a narrative around two people who exclusively come as a package, it makes it incredibly difficult for both the actors themselves and fans to accept or make peace with any possible deviation from that. I think it's natural for any actor or artist to desire collaboration with different people: to develop their craft, to further their experience, to broaden their versatility. If sticking to only one working partner 'for life' doesn't work for them, I completely empathise with that.

In their recent Instagram lives, Net and James were clearly sad and their feelings still very raw. This led to a lot of speculation regarding any ill-feeling or fall out between the two. But such accusations can be harmful. Even in an amicable or mutual break-up where ending a relationship is in both parties' best interests - the two people involved are still grieving. Being brutally honest and transparent with someone close to you, that things can no longer continue as they are, isn't easy. If fans feel upset, just imagine how difficult this is on them both. When you've been nurtured as a partnership from the get go, your co-star whose always been at your side provides a sense of safety and familiarity. And the prospect of now moving forward without them is a scary new unknown. On top of that, they probably feel an immense amount of pressure and guilt in digesting the potential fallout and response from their fans. There will be trepidation in how well their careers will fare in the immediate aftermath.

Despite this, there are also positives to be taken from this decision. Arguably, Net and James were still in the early stages of their partnership. Bed Friend really put them on the map as a couple. So for James to come forward with this realisation now, before they got too established as a pairing was a responsible thing to do. I'm sure the last thing anyone wants is for their favourite artists to feel stuck or obliged to continue working together, which would undoubtedly lead to feelings of resentment eventually.

So respectfully, these instances are not to be taken personally or to be deemed as a betrayal of your support. After all, what we know of these artists is only a very small piece of their identities as people. It's okay to be devastated, but be respectful of their wishes. You can choose to continue supporting them as individuals, or choose to no longer support them at all - either way, you are perfectly valid and entitled to your choice, just extend the same courtesy back and be mindful of casting unfair judgement on their choice.

For me, it is admittedly a shame because I did see great potential in them both as a pair, and they had fantastic chemistry which could have been nurtured with more time and experience. Regardless, I truly believe they both have immense love for one another, and I wish them both the very best. They've just come to terms with the fact they no longer share the same vision for what they want in their careers. And that's okay.

(I will always be grateful that they gave us THIS iconic moment).

#netjames #james supamongkon #james su #net siraphop #net x james #james x net #thai BL news #love upon a time #bed friend #catch me baby #BL meta

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cameronspecial · 1 day

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I was recently rewatching OBX S3 and realized we never saw Rafe’s reaction to Ward dying. So my request for you is to write a Rafe x reader where the reader was there when Ward died and had to tell him. They already had a sort of close relationship. Childhood friends/friend’s brother type idk. Anyway, thanks <3

Dead Dad Club

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Dead Dads

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Y/N couldn’t believe it happened. She never thought that when her best friend, the Pogues and she went to South America, she would watch her best friend and ex-boyfriend’s father die to protect them. However, that’s how she finds herself in front of Tannyhill, which now, belongs to Rafe because of the un-fake version of Ward’s death. She should be the one to tell him; she has to be the one to tell him. Because after everything he has done, she is the only one (other than Wheezie, who even though she loves him, favours Sarah) who holds any love for him. She knows he beat up Shrieff Peterkin and hurt Sarah, but she can still see the Rafe she used to love and she knows he still loves her. He made it clear when he did everything to protect her during her and the Pogues' escape from the cargo ship.

Her knock sounds hollow as her heartbeat blasts in her ear. She sees his figure through the glass door. She’ll never get used to his shaved head. His mouth puckers at the sight of her and he shifts to the side to see behind her. “When did you get back? Is my dad with you?” She grimaces, “That’s what I came here to talk to you about. Let’s go to the living room.” He nods, holding her by the fingertips as he leads her to the couch. They sit and turn to face each other. Their knees graze. She bites her lower lip to keep her tears in. He needs her to be strong right now. “Pumpkin, where is my dad?” She lets out a breath and the words spill out of her. “Your dad died in Venezuela. He ran towards a man trying to shoot Sarah and fell off a cliff.” Rafe freezes and his face whitens. The room grows quiet. “No,” he whispers. “No. No. No.” His voice begins to rise and he stands up to pass around the room. He whips toward her with a finger pointed at her and tears streaming down his face. “YOU ARE LYING. HE ISN’T DEAD. WHY ARE YOU LYING?” The sight of him breaks the dam holding back her own tears.

She cries, “I’m not, Baby, I’m not. I’m so sorry, but I saw his body with my own eyes. He goes through the first two stages of grief and goes right into bargaining. “If I had been there, I could’ve saved him. I should’ve taken him. I should’ve been there. God, please, I’ll do anything for this to be a lie.” He breaks down right before her and she rushes as he collapses into her arms. She drops to the floor with him, resting his head on her chest. “I know. I’m sorry, Baby. I wish I could say that I am lying,” she whispers to him, kissing his temple. His breathing begins to even out as he starts to remember the last time they talked before he dropped his dad off at the private jet. He wouldn’t leave the cross for her and he pointed a gun at her friends.

“Why are you here? Why are you the one telling me this?” he questions. He looks up at her and she smooths down the hair at his nape. She kisses his forehead, “You were there for me when my dad died, so it’s my turn to be there for you. Plus, you deserve to have someone who loves you around right now.” He shows his gratitude by dropping his head into her chest and kissing the spot between her collarbones. For the rest of the afternoon, they helped each other grieve.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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brookbee · 2 years

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I’ve seen some confusion as to why the chapter on Jim in The Autobiography of Mr. Spock is rather short. And because I love this book and would like to encourage Spock fans to read it (bc it is genuinely touching and has some lovely character moments), I want to offer up a possible answer to that.

I’m going to compare a couple passages from the novel in order to answer this. I would first like to bring to your attention this passage from the chapter on Sarek:

In the passage it is referring to what is essentially Sarek’s own autobiography (the t’san a‘lat) and it talks about how it contains no mention of Sarek’s family in the account. The t’san a’lat is meant to be a completely honest document, but how can you honestly and fully express the significance that people you loved have had on your life?

I think that Spock has this interpretation about Sarek not writing about Amanda or their children in part because Spock now finds himself in a similar position. Spock is now writing about the people he loved most in his own autobiography, and he is encountering this problem that Sarek chose to avoid in his writing. I think it is safe to say that writing about Jim is particularly difficult for Spock.

In this passage from the chapter on Jim, there are quite a few parallels with what Spock says about Sarek’s autobiography:

Namely, that the people they love most are at the heart of the account, that they do not know how to outwardly express how significant their loved ones were to them, and their hesitancy/refusal to write about their loved ones at all.

Essentially, the reason the chapter on Jim is comparably short is because Spock wishes to protect his love for Jim and keep what they meant to one another private (as well as Spock clearly still grieving over Jim’s loss and wanting to experience that privately as well). He is also not sure how to write about a person that, in many ways, is at the center of his life. It is not from lack of regard that Spock writes less of Jim, but instead that his regard for Jim is so strong that mere words could not summarize what the man meant to him.

#I believe that una mccormack said that Spock writing less about Jim is an expression of his grief #but the parallels with the sarek chapter really emphasize certain things imo #also #una mccormack made a tumblr since the last time I posted about this book which is pretty neat #but yeah I love this book I can’t stop thinking about it and bringing it up #the autobiography of mr spock #star trek #trekposting #Star Trek novels #star trek tos #star trek the original series #k/s #spirk

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simpcityy · 11 months

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I just thought up this request I don’t know if ur requests are still open but I can wait if they aren’t (no pressure!) k so my idea is Miguel Ohara x reader where the reader has powers similar to klaus from the umbrella academy they can talk to the dead and when they first see Miguel they just know he’s lost someone and he’s still grieving and later on they comfort him over it, maybe Gabrielle’s spirit shows up and gives him the closure he needs

Thank you so much Anon for being my ever first request! I made sure to make it my best writing ever! Enjoy!

Our Little Secret (Miguel O'Hara X Ghost Seeing! Spider-Person Reader)

Quick Background: Reader can see the dead; they can see and talk to them, but they do it in private in case other people think they are going crazy. Reader can also have the ability to let ghosts possess them if they require their assistance.

Word Count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters!

Warnings: A bit of sad stuff, ghost, comfort in the end! (H/N) means hero name. Use of (Y/N), Ghost Briella

Spanish Translation (Since there is a lot and I want you to understand the short story, so it goes up top for this post) 1. Lo siento: I'm Sorry 2. Gracias: Thank you 3. Qué? ¿Cómo conseguiste eso: What? How did you get that? 4. Nunca: Never 5. Tú? Puedes ver a los muertos: You? You can see the dead? 6. Suficiente!: Enough! 7. Mi sol: My Sun 8. Mi mundo: My world 9. Yo también te quiero: I love you too 10. Mi sol, lo siento mucho por ser la razón por la que no puedes cruzar: My Sun, I am very sorry that I am the reason you can't cross over. 11. Prometo que cambiaré, y seguiré tu consejo, sé que debe dolerte verme solo. Además, creo que encontré a alguien que podrá hacer lo que me pedistes: I promise I will change, and I will follow your advice, I know it must be painful for you to see me alone. Besides, I think I have found someone who can do what you asked me of. 12. Ve a la luz, Mi Sol: Go to the light, my sun. 13. Muchas gracias: Thank you so much. 14. Muy bien, es un trato: Alright, it's a deal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked around the Spider Society Headquarters following Jess, a woman you met not long ago. You try to concentrate on what she was saying only to be distracted by the number of ghosts lingering around the base. “So many dead uncles. And relatives” You whisper before paying attention back to Jess. “What was that?” She turns around. “Nothing! I just said there are a lot of Spider people, it’s amazing.” Chuckling nervously, you continue to follow her. She stopped to talk to a couple of young Spiderlings. You patiently waited and tried to ignore the ghost calling for you.

“Can you see me?”

“Can you help me please!”

You tried to shut them out, controlling your breathing but their pleads for help only made your heart ache. You wish you could help them all out but there is only one you and so many ghosts still stuck in the world. Those who need help to pass over to the light, but you knew better. It would be impossible to help all the ghosts. Sometimes this power of yours, is a curse but you push those negative thoughts away. “You alright?” Jess placed a hand on your shoulder. Finally, the voices of help were gone. Nodding, you smile at her “Yeah. So, when do I get to meet the big boss?” You fixed your mask a bit, patiently waiting for her response. “Speaking of that, I was just informed Miguel’s back, so follow me.” She guides you down the hall. You followed, still spotting a few ghosts lingering around the halls. You did your best to look past them but, in the end, they always know. Your eyes glanced over to the door, you could tell right away that room was filled with sadness, devastation, overall, you know behind that door someone was grieving a loss.

Once the doors opened, your eyes scanned around the room. Whenever someone is grieving, there is always a ghost attached to them. Any negative emotions bring either good or bad ghosts. After scanning the room, you find nothing and focus on the tall and muscular man which you presume was the leader of this whole function. Seeing he was the only person in the room, you knew he was the vessel of all this negative emotion. Once he turned to look at you, you were right on the nail. You could tell right away he’s grieving a loss of someone dear to him. Composing yourself you smiled at him “(Y/N), also known as (H/N)” You introduced yourself before watching a figure turn around the corner quickly making something fall down. You quickly webbed the item before it fell and broke. “Woah, nice reflexes there.” You looked up to see a small woman appear in front of you. “Um? Thanks” you say looking back where the figure has run off. “Lyla, I didn’t call for you.” Miguel glances at his AI. “Ahh Come one, I just wanted to meet the new recruit.” She then appears on your shoulder taking a selfie with you. “This one is for the memories!” She then disappears. You only stood there trying to take in everything that was happening at once. "Lo siento* Lyla is my AI, and she can be a bit…much” Miguel mutters before grabbing the item from you placing it on his desk. “I um…it’s alright. I’ll get used to it eventually.” You look past him trying to see if you can see the figure again before giving up seeing nothing. Looking at him, all you can see is a man who lost something or rather someone. “I wanted to thank you for letting me in the team…I didn't know there were so many spider people out there…I don’t feel alone…mostly.” You say to him, knowing no one else in the spider society can see ghosts like you. Unless they haven’t found them, it’s only you so far. “More threats are coming so it’s important to expand the Spider society.” Miguel walked around you. “I’ve been monitoring your fighting ability and I have to say I’m impressed. We need more people on the team like you.” ‘Wait? Did he just say monitoring me?!’ You thought before thanking him. “Thanks, it’s years of practice of being a spider hero.” You looked over to his screen seeing him watching each Spider person's missions. ‘Does he know I see ghosts if he’s been watching me?’

After the brief introduction with your boss, you walked around the empty hall to head to the cafeteria before stopping to see a small head poking before they let out a childish gasp hiding back. Looking around, you quickly walk over “no no!” You whisper, “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” You looked around the halls before hearing a small voice behind you.

“You can see me?”

Turning around you are met with a young girl, kneeling down, you smile at her nodding. “Yup I can see you...and you were that troublemaker who knocked the item off.” You gently poke her nose only for your finger to go through her. She still giggled before nodding, “It was an accident” She whispers. “It’s fine, I know young ghosts like you have a hard time using your little ghost powers” You assure her before looking around making sure no one else was walking by. “I heard there is a lounge room near here, think you can guide me so we can talk more?” You smile as she nodded quickly, guiding you to the room. Once you made it, you peaked in seeing it empty and walked in. “Okay, let’s start with this, my name is (Y/N)” You sat on the sofa and looked at her. “My name is Gabriella, but you can call me Briella, it was what my Papa always calls me” She sat next to you, but her body hovered over the couch. “That’s my next question, is your father, Miguel?” When Briella heard his name her eyes showed admiration, nodding quickly. “Yes! He’s the best and I know he’s trying his best.” She puts her hands up showing how much he was the best. You smiled at her love for Miguel, “Perhaps…that's what prevented you from moving forward…ever thought of crossing over?” You didn’t want to pressure her into crossing over, every ghost was different, some cross over right away and others take their time. Briella thought for a moment, “Yes…but I haven’t seen the light.” She looked at you with her eyes tearing up. Panicking you tried to rub her back but once again your hand went through. “No no, it’s okay, it just means there is something or rather someone preventing you, your father” You explained to the young girl. “Want my help?” You asked as she nodded her head quickly.

“Okay, this is what we need to do.”

It’s been a week and finally, you were going to set the plan. You were slowly getting the hang of ignoring the ghosts in the HQ. You would have your private conversations with Briella in the lounge room. Becoming friends with the girl, you felt bad for her. She feels so alone here with the rest of the ghosts not minding her as they were busy trying to find a way to cross. She was ecstatic to call you a friend. Sitting on a table at the cafeteria, you spotted Jess carrying a heavy pile of folders. “This is our chance, meet me at your father's office” You whisper out to Briella before getting up. “Here let me help Jess” You quickly took the folders from her. “Is this going out to Miguel? I can take them; you need some rest after all.” You assure her. Jess chuckles “I owe you one, my back is killing me!” She chuckles before sitting down. “Be careful, it’s pretty heavy” She calls out as you walk out of the cafeteria. “You don’t say” You grunt at the weight leaning slightly to the right before fixing yourself.

You walked through the door to Miguel’s office. “I have folders for you!” You called out to him seeing him working up on the platform. You pant heavily once you set them down on a desk. “How can she be so strong?” You mutter referring to Jess. She didn’t seem to have trouble holding these files. “Gracias*, leave them there.” He doesn’t bother turning around. You look over to Briella who nodded her head. ‘Alright, we’re both ready’ you think before sitting on the desk next to the folders. “I have a question” You called out. “And?” He kept working on the screens. “How much do you know about me? Seeing you’ve been watching and all.” This got his attention, he stopped and turned around glancing down at you from his platform. “What? Why do you ask?” He jumps down landing in front of you. You kept standing there, “Well, I was reading these” You pulled out a file with your name. “ Qué? ¿Cómo conseguiste eso*?” He tries to take it from you, but you pull it away in time. “A little friend help me” You smile under your mask hearing Briella giggle. Miguel only rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Hobie” He mutters. You shake your head, “No but there is one detail you missed about me, a power you forgot to add.” You opened the file reading it. “Reading this makes me look too normal like any other spider person…I wish I was like that.” You mutter thinking back to all the ghosts' pleas of help you had to ignore. “I never miss anything, Nunca*” He watches you reading your file before caging you in grabbing the file from you. You let out a gasp before composing yourself, thank God for the mask covering your face. “Well, I can see the dead” You mutter looking at him. “Tú? Puedes ver a los muertos*” He lets out a sigh, “I don’t have time to play games” He looks at you, frowning. “It’s the truth…” You slip under him trying to keep it safe for Briella eyes, but you have to admit, she has a good-looking dad but right now you had better things to do then eye her father up and down. “Your daughter, Gabriella, is here with us.” You watched him as he stayed silent and next thing you know; you were slammed to the wall. “suficiente*!” He yelled as his hand pushed your shoulder roughly into the wall. You grunt letting him, he has years of grief pent up, you give him the pass for today only. You watched as Gabriella gasp panicking and appears next to you whispering something to you.

“You don’t know anything! She’s long gone!” He yells pushing you more into the wall. You only look up to him “Mi sol*” You whisper out in pain. He stops “What was that?” He pulls his hand away from your shoulder. “You would call her Mi Sol when in reality she’s your world but calling her Mi mundo* was odd for her, so you stuck with Mi Sol” You looked over seeing him shocked. Miguel backed away before looking around “Mi Sol?” He calls out in the open. “She’s behind you” You walked away from the wall and stood next to Briella. “She’s standing next to me; she reaches around my waist” You called out her height. Miguel looked at your waist then moved his head over. Gabriella smiles seeing her father was looking at her, well though her since she wasn’t visible to him. “Briella would you like to?” You asked her but she shakes her head. “What?” Miguel looks at you. “I asked if she wanted to possess my body so she can speak with you, but it seems she doesn’t want to. So, I’ll be the interpreter” You smile at him.

You and Miguel sat on the ground as Briella converse with her father through you. “Tell him I love him so much!” She smiles. You chuckle and look at Miguel, “She says she loves you so much.” Miguel looks so much better to you; he was smiling for once ever since you met him. His smile was contagious, it even made you smile for no reason. “Yo también te quiero*” He looks at the empty spot near you. “Oh! Tell him to be happy, that soon I will be crossing over. When I do, I want him to find someone who loves him as much as I do! Someone who will look after him for me…like you.” You quickly turned to her “ W-What?” You looked away before translating to Miguel, “She says to be happy, that soon when she crosses over, she wants you to find someone who loves you as much as she does...someone who will look over you while she’s gone.” You repeat leaving out the last part making Briella cross her arms pouting. You let out a quiet chuckle watching her reaction. Miguel looks over at the empty spot again, “Mi sol, lo siento mucho por ser la razón por la que no puedes cruzar.*” He begins as Gabriella looks at him carefully, paying attention. “Prometo que cambiaré, y seguiré tu consejo, sé que debe dolerte verme solo. Además, creo que encontré a alguien que podrá hacer lo que me pedistes*.” He says while looking at you. You were busy looking around the office to give them their space till they needed you again for translation.

You look over seeing a light, “Briella…it’s time” You smile walking over to them. “Is it the light?” Miguel gets up looking at you. You nodded, “It’s time for her to cross.” Miguel took a deep breath in and looked over at the direction you were looking, “Ve a la luz, Mi Sol*” He whispers. Gabriella walked over to it, stopping in front of it. “Tell him I love him, and I will miss him...also thank you (Y/N)” She smiles before going in. You watched as the light disappeared, “She said she loves you and that she’s going to miss you.” You look over to him only to feel his arms around you. “Thank you…Muchas gracias*” he whispers into your shoulder. You felt his tears staining your suit, you rubbed his back. “It's no problem.” You whisper back. Pulling back, it quickly wipes his tears before looking down at you, “This needs to stay between us” He steps back a bit. You smile “I was about to say the same, keep that ghost power out of the files for me…I don’t need all the spider people asking me if I can see their dead uncle or something” She sighs. Miguel lets out a deep chuckle. It felt nice seeing him happy, hearing his chuckle and seeing that handsome smile. “Muy bien, es un trato.” He pulls his hand out, you grab it shaking it.

“It’s our Little Secret.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes: Thank you so much Anon! I hope this was something you were thinking of! Sorry if it's a little long to all of you. Remember to check out the poll I have going on! It's a 100 follower Special. Also...THANK YOU EVERYONE! I have reached the 100 Follower goal on this day (07/07/23). Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping (Simp City Population: 110 💕) Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Please reblog so others can be aware of my works! ILY 💕

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fic #across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #request #answered asks

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

Text

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART TWO : CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: bury your old life, my friend

word count: 2.3k

warnings: a little nsfw toward the end but not explicit.

author's note: i am not a smut writer and this will probably be the only time i would write it lol. anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

AO3 | prev | next

Watching your former body be carried toward a grave in the most beautiful ceremony you had ever witnessed was morbid to say the least.

And as you walked in a line of Omatikaya people, few of which were carrying a larger leaf where your body lay, you couldn’t help but wish this was private. Something like this was meant to be grieved away from watchful eyes, closure meant for only you.

But you did not mind this at the end of the day. The last thing you wanted was to ever be alone again. You had spent far too much time in solitude. Rejecting those that tried to reach out for you and hold you in their grasp so that they would know you weren’t going anywhere. Now was the time to leave it all behind. In this new life you would do things differently. You would be different.

You trailed behind just a bit, eyes never straying from your former body. When you finally tore your eyes away, Jake, who was a few walks away, was already watching you when your gazes locked. He reached his hand out to you. And you smiled, albeit sadly, and took it without hesitation. You had to be further up front anyway with the Tsahik and the Olo’eyktan.

The ceremony had started late in the evening, as the sun was setting. Now by the time you all got to the burial place, the stars were in the sky. There was someone singing, their voice floating around the wind, in and out. When you got to the burial place, which was a tall old looking tree, all of you swarmed around it in a half circle. You ended up standing next to Mo’at who had pulled you to her side. Jake was nearby, along with Neytiri.

Before the ceremony, you had asked Jake if he had gone through with this with his former body.

You remember him giving you a knowing look before he nodded, “I did it after the transference. It was a small one, nothing too big.” He must’ve noticed something in your face and his face softened, “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can skip it, just bury the body and leave it.”

“No, no, I can do it.” You breathed out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves while tugging on your hair absentmindedly. Neytiri had done your hair recently and given you newer clothes to wear. Really you felt a bit exposed but you looked more Na’vi than dreamwalker for the first time. “Actually, I’m just trying not to think too much about it.”

Jake nodded, “I understand.”

For a moment you watched him. As he set down the pile of spears he had gotten from training with the warriors earlier that day. How he had a certain calmness about him. How he always seemed a lot more controlled than you were.

“I don’t get how you do it.” You chuckled, massaging your forehead. Jake, who had been knelt to the floor, looked up at you with a confused frown as you continued. “You always seemed better at handling moments like this. Even back then when Grace…I guess I’m a little envious.”

He was quiet for a moment. You continued tugging at your hair, deep in thought. Then Jake spoke again, “That day was easy, in a way. Making the transfer. I already knew where I belonged, who I wanted to be. If I had the decision to do it over again, I would without a doubt.”

You listened to this, already knowing what he meant. Hell, in a way you knew that this was the path he would take. You could see even back then when he was training to become one of The People. He yearned for this life. So, it was no surprise that he had chosen it permanently.

Jake had moved, you realized coming out of your thoughtful daze, to find him knelt down in front of you. Instantly, you grabbed his hands, guiding them to your face and allowing them to cup it as he spoke, “But I know one thing. One thing I am absolutely sure of. It was the best and worst day of my life. And the worst part? It was you not being there at my side when I woke.”

“Even when we weren’t even mates.” You frowned. “Even after everything. Even after five years, you still choose to love me?”

With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss against your eyelashes and then the tip of your nose. His hand ran through your hair, his fingers gently massaging the back of your head. “I already chose you. Since the first time we met. I’ve always chosen you. “ He yanked you closer, pressing his lips against yours in a deep and long kiss. One that the both of you melted into so easily, one filled with yearning passion and desperation. The way his eyes burned when they locked with yours after you both pulled away, foreheads pressed together.

Even now, as you stood with Mo’at you felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck. Even with your eyes closed, listening to the words of the Tsahik, you could feel his presence despite him being a little ways behind you. A part of you couldn’t get what would’ve happened if you had kept going out of your mind while a sensible part of you was trying to focus on the ceremony in front of you.

Then they placed your body in the hole. That’s when Mo’at began speaking to Eywa. That’s when you began your silent goodbyes to your old life, to your old self. This person was now gone and you were finally allowed to leave her in the past for good. And when they buried you, when the last of the dirt hit the ground, your new life began.

You all stayed there, eyes still closed, repeating the words Mo’at says. It was like a prayer, you realized. That your body may be secure in the hands of Eywa, that you may be taken care of now that you have gone. You remember some of these words from the night Grace had died. There was one tear that night, during that entire ceremony.

When it was all over. Everyone moved on to their homes, to their hammocks to rest and prepare for another day. But you instead went to the Tree of Souls. With you, you carried Tsu’tey’s old necklace, the one he wore before briefly becoming the Olo’eyktan. You stood under the tree, connecting your queue to one of the stems. You spoke quietly, only for the spirits to hear as you put on Tsu’tey’s necklace.

“Thank you for bringing me home.” You smiled up at the tree, imagining Grace’s face in your mind as you spoke. “You didn’t have to but you did. And I thank you for this. I am forever grateful for you…” Your fingers grazed the necklace gently, “I hope the both of you are at peace. May you rest well with Eywa.”

For a little while longer, you stayed there. And it was quiet all around you, the forest asleep.

Your ears twitched when footsteps approached.

Glancing over your shoulder, a smile tugged at your lips when you saw Jake approaching. You unlink your queue from the stem, “I was just about finished.”

Jake nodded as he stopped next to you. “Here for Grace?” His eyes trailed down toward the necklace you wore, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “Or Tsu’tey?”

“Either.” You responded honestly, turning back to face the tree. “Really for whoever’s listening.”

His hand came up at the small of our back, running gently along your spine as he spoke, “Did you see her? When you were in your transference. Did she say anything to you?”

You thought back to your conversation with Grace. Frankly, you weren’t even entirely sure if it was actually Grace who you were talking to. Or perhaps a version of your consciousness. But you remembered it like it was only yesterday.

“She told me that she had a daughter.” The smile on your lips grew as you felt his face rest in the crook of your neck. “And that she would always be with me.” You shrugged a little. “If you believe in that sort of thing anyway.”

He hummed against your skin before pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder, “I’m starting to.”

You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He pulled you closer to him, close to the point where your lips were a feather away from each other. Your hands found their way to his hair that had grown into thick dreads, nearly past his shoulders. You saw the same burning look in his eyes and yet at the same time a look as if he was stuck in a memory. And by the way his features subtly fall, just a little bit, you could tell just what he was thinking about.

It was you that leaned in, placing your mouth on his, drawing him out of his thoughts as he quickly responded to your touch. One hand sliding up your spine and the other squeezing your waist, desperately pulling you closer so that your skin touched.

The small sounds coming from his throat made your insides melt and your fingers trembling for more.

He broke away, just for a moment. And in that you noticed a tear trail down his cheek. Your thumb brushed against it as you rested your forehead against his, “Try not to think about before.” Of course the memory hadn’t left her. The last time the both of them were here, under the Tree of Souls was when she had said her goodbyes to him before going off to fight a battle of her own. Of course she remembered it. Of course. Of course. Of course.

Jake nodded, pulling you even closer if that was possible. “Are you here with me?” He asked you in a gentle whisper. “You’re here with me right now?”

You smiled. Remembering Neytiri’s words to you. She is meant to be a part of our family now. If she chooses to accept us. You realized you had never given her an answer until now.

“Forever, if you want.”

And there was the white crescent smile that you missed. And with that smile, it melted onto your lips, capturing you possessively. This time his hands wandered to sensitive areas and this time you let him.

The both of you had come close before, back at the tent earlier that day. But it wasn’t the right time. Now? Now all you can think of was his hands all over your body. Claiming you and his. And him as yours.

At some point the two of you slid to the ground. The ache between your legs wasn’t unfamiliar yet pleasurable. So was the way his length plunged into your walls with ease making your stomach tighten and swirl. Quiet mewls left your lips and tickled his ears as his hips thrusted int you, gently, almost as if you were the most fragile thing on Pandora. Jake had never seen you so beautiful. So perfect, almost as if you were stolen from his dreams and brought before him. Being able to finally hold you as he wished, having you touch him as much as he touched you.

You were real. You were real. You were real.

Finally.

The night ended with you lying in a hammock with both Jake and Neytiri. Neytiri lying in between the two of you, Jake on her other side. You remembered, before the two of them had fallen to sleep, connected all three of your queues together. It was a silent promise, you realized then. That you were all one. That this family, this heart, this soul, and this purpose…

Was yours just as much as it was theirs.

Your eyes had closed for only a few seconds. But it was enough time for you to be surrounded by fire. Alone. With no way out. There were screams all around you, though you couldn’t tell if it belonged to the dying or you. An overwhelming wave of emotions, of chaos, struck you from all sides. You saw Grace burning in the fire. You saw Tsu’tey dead at your feet. You saw the ship that you had crashed and your own body lying amongst the dead.

Then there was laughter. And then there was a face grinning at you.

“What is it, kid?” Quaritch sneered. “Ya look a little scared.”

And then you wake up.

Your back in the hammock. The dark sky had a visible hint of dawn just creeping in the corners. Your breathing was shaky and you realized, after taking in your surroundings, that you were sitting up.

It was a few seconds until you finally got a hold of your breathing control and managed to calm your growing anxiety.

Nightmares weren't anything new for you. Really, you should’ve been used to it at this point. But of course, as soon as you felt a moment of peace, they came and struck back. Pulling you further into your own despair.

And you would’ve fallen easily, given in easily like you used to. That is until something squeezed your arm, pulling you out of your rapid thoughts and toward whoever had brought you out of it.

Neytiri was staring up at you, a confused frown on her lips, “What is wrong? Why are you awake?”

You hesitated, really considering your words. As you did so, Jake shifted next to Neytiri, his eyes fluttering just a bit. Neytiri frowned, sitting up just a bit, “Tsmuke?”

At her words, Jake stirred and you shook your head, “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine. Go back to sleep. Just a bad dream is all.”

With that, you lied back down, turning your back to them. Your fingers massaged your forehead, trying your best not to think too much about the nightmare. And you didn’t, especially when you felt Jake’s hand on your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze

Eventually, you closed your eyes. This time you dreamed of nothing.

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#to you worlds away #jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #jake sully smut #avatar jake #jake sully #sam worthington #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water

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naavispider · 7 months

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What if after saving Quaritch and swimming back to be with the Sullys spider hears something, Lo'ak in his anger and grief cries that he wishes they hadn't gone back for spider Amd that he wished it were him and that he should've listened not knowing spider was behind him. Lo'ak sees the look on spiders face when he turns around, and the next thing anyone hears are gunshots from above. Quaritch now having nothing to lose after being rejected by his son is making his last move to take out Jake and Neytiri at all costs. Spider is caught in the crossfire, and his best friends last words were that he shouldn't have saved him and that he wished it were him.

Working my way through some very old requests here, and decided to write a tiny little angst-filled drabble. There's no plot to this at all and I'm not very happy with it but it's written so I may as well share! TW: death, suicidal thoughts

🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙

One stroke after the other. In a daze, Spider made his broken and battered way back to the outcrop where the Sullys were gathered with… He couldn’t think it. If he thought it, he’d lose the strength to keep swimming. Just focus. One stroke after another.

Almost there.

Keep going.

Don’t think about anything.

When his fingertips brushed the rocks at last, it took every last inch of his strength to not collapse and let the swell carry him higher onto the tiny island. Instead, he heaved through his mask and clambered up the jagged, slippery surface to be with his family. He barely winced when the rocks cut his feet, or when he slipped and almost smashed his mask open. When he was high enough to escape the waves, he finally allowed himself to sit and catch his breath.

He’d done it. He was free. He’d ripped himself free of Quaritch’s stranglehold on his heart.

But at what cost?

Behind him he could hear faint crying and he had to steel himself to turn around and face what had happened. Neteyam.

Neteyam was dead.

As if he was a passenger in his own body, he pushed himself up and staggered over to the grieving family. Kiri was the first to notice him. “Monkey boy!” she smiled through her tears, reaching for his heart. He almost fell into her touch, allowing her to hold him together, if only for a few seconds.

“Kid, you alright?” Jake bent down to his level. Spider tore himself away from Kiri to allow the man to pull him close. It wasn’t a hug, not really. Jake was strong and solid, and Spider had missed him. He’d missed him so much.

To the side, Neteyam was lying lifeless on the ground, Neytiri crying at his side and Tuk holding his hand. The sight almost broke Spider’s heart all over again.

There was Lo’ak, on Neteyam’s other side with his back to Spider. Spider desperately wanted to go over and comfort his brother, but the moment seemed too private to interrupt.

“It should have been me…” Lo’ak sobbed, so quietly that Spider barely heard him.

No, that’s not true. Spider’s chest felt like it couldn’t cope. It should have been me.

“We never should have gone back…” Neither Neytiri nor Tuk were capable of comforting Lo’ak, as both were struggling to contain their own tears. Neytiri just looked broken.

“We should have left Spider…”

Coldness clouded Spider’s insides.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Because it was true. Lo’ak and Neteyam never should have come back for him. If they hadn’t, everyone would have been alive right now.

It was Spider’s fault Neteyam was dead.

Dread circled his heart, replacing the pain of his sorrow. He didn’t know which he preferred. The dread told him he didn’t deserve to be alive anymore. It told him he couldn’t carry on with the guilt of what he’d done. It told him this was never going to get better. That Neteyam’s death would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t live with that.

Kiri had moved over to put her arm around Lo’ak’s shoulders, making Lo’ak jump and spin around. When his eyes met Spider’s, they simply filled with tears.

Spider opened his mouth to say something - but there was nothing to say. There was just acceptance of what was.

Then - from behind him - came a terrible cry. He recognised the sound of that voice instantly. Cold fear pierced through his reality as he spun around. Above them and getting closer was the terrible sight of a rage-fuelled Miles Quaritch, snarling even as he raised his rifle, training it on the family. Spider knew what was going to happen before it did. Before his mind had caught up to his body, he’d flung himself in front of Jake, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to push the Na’vi down given the strength difference. Quaritch’s roar of fury and spatter of ammunition against the rocks were the last things he heard before the hot cartridge pierced his side.

No noise escaped him as he fell to the ground.

Oh, the pain.

He didn’t look down. He didn’t need to. Blood was on his mask somehow, and Kiri emerged in his line of sight, screaming down at him from above.

“SPIDER! Spider, can you hear me? You’re okay, Monkey Boy, you’re okay…”

The sound of her voice numbed the agonising pain in his abdomen. Suddenly, the gunshot wound was numb.

Thank Eywa.

He couldn’t feel any pain.

“Kid? Oh no… Spider!” That was Jake’s voice. Spider wanted to see him, but he didn’t want to unfocus on Kiri. Her eyes were round with panic and strands of her long hair framed her mask of horror. Spider’s heart sank a little that she was going to be heartbroken over this. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, not after what happened with Neteyam, but she would cry for him anyway. And that’s why he loved her.

“Kiri-” he gurgled. He wasn’t sure what was blocking his throat, but something unpleasant was bubbling at the back of his mouth.

She was going to be shot, she had to move…

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

Other faces joined his field of vision now, though they were blurry and dark spots were starting to appear in front of his eyes.

“Spider… I’m so sorry bro, I didn’t mean that, please Spider, hold on…”

“Ngh…” was all he could manage.

At least no one was getting shot. Maybe Neytiri had brought Quaritch down. Maybe they were safe now.

Someone had grabbed his hand, but it was getting harder for him to breathe.

“M’... s’rry,” he gasped out, using all of his remaining strength to form the two words. Doing anything at all was becoming impossible. He didn’t have any strength left to move, to speak, to even breathe. He stared up at Kiri, wanting her to be the last thing he ever saw.

💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤

“SPIDER! Spider!” Oh no… no, no, no. Not another brother. “Please Great Mother, please, please,” she moaned through her tears, clutching Spider’s shoulders like a lifeline. “Spider, please, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

She tried to place her hand over the wound in Spider’s side, but it was hopeless. There was too much blood. She cried out, trying instead to make him talk to her. “Spider! Spider, can you hear me?” He gazed up at her from behind his mask, but his eyes were clouded over.

“Kiri…” he gurgled.

“I’m here!” She almost screamed, her tears coming in wracking sobs now. She didn’t care what was happening around her. She didn’t care if Quaritch was coming back to take her down as well. Spider was bleeding out. He was dying.

“M’... s’rry,” he breathed, and Kiri’s heart shattered into atoms. There was nothing left in her chest.

“SPIDER?” She screamed, shaking his shoulders now, but his eyes had stilled. The light had faded. “Spider?”

…It had happened.

Her hands were covered in his blood, and her soul was covered with his imprint. This boy… this monkey boy who had weaved his way into her life so humbly… was simply gone.

“Spider…” she whispered.

Saying his name kept him here.

“Spider…”

Cold hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

“He’s gone,” her dad’s voice broke. “He’s gone…”

She just stared at Spider.

She couldn’t look away. He’d been alive and well only moments ago. Now he was… dead?

It couldn’t be. The Great Mother wouldn’t do this to her. She wouldn’t steal her soulmate.

Finally, she looked up, shellshocked.

Neytiri was kneeling at Neteyam’s side still, her bow in her hand. Her face was expressionless. Kiri followed Tsireya’s tear streaked gaze out to sea, where the floating body of Quaritch lay face down in the water, an arrow sticking out of his back.

“I killed him…” Jake muttered from behind Kiri. “I killed Quaritch on the ship…”

He wasn’t making sense, so Kiri tuned him out. The world had stopped spinning.

Neteyam was dead. Spider was dead. Two brothers… just… gone.

She would never speak to them again.

Why had Eywa done this?

#spider socorro #kiri te suli kìreysì'ite #jake sully #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #miles spider socorro #atwow #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #my stuff: spider's sacrifice #oneshot #ask #awow fanfic #jc avatar #spider the way of angst

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princessb4mbi · 1 year

Text

MESSAGES I CAN’T SEND

꩜ tags black!reader, therapist!eren, college setting, age gap (reader in 20s, eren in 30s), power dynamic, not so protective sex? mentions of death [not proofread]

꩜ synopsis isn’t it obvious to hide your private life better? or was it not obvious when a video of you dry-humping a pillow was sent to your therapist.

@ word count 3.6k

story below the cut !!

ever since you’ve lost your mother to old age, your mental health has spiraled downwards a little bit. you’ve had the privilege of knowing when she WOULD die and at-least died in a proper place rather than somewhere shitty, so that’s cheered your spirits up a little bit. she was your best friend though, and losing your best friend is painful. you went to her whenever you could, talked on the phone for hours, and slept in her bed every night as if you were still five years old.

you weren’t the only one suffering though, your childhood friend sasha couldn’t stand watching you wither away. even though she did everything she could, she knew she was capable of oh so much.

“do you want me to hook you up with my therapist? he’ll seriously help you clear all cloudy thoughts away y/n,” sasha says caressing your cheeks

you move your face away from her hand, “they aren’t cloudy thoughts sas, im just grieving my mother..”

“i know baby, i know.. but i don’t want to grieve YOU if you die of a heartbreak. i want you to get better, physically and mentally.” sasha looks at me emphatically.

she pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contacts until stopping at a card called “dr.jaeger”. “listen, give him a call please. his prices are cheap and his place is nice. it’s not like those dull white offices with an ugly long chair and a monotone person.”

you sighed, reluctantly agreeing to her copying and pasting the number to your phone. “okey, i gotta go now babe, but PROMISE me you’ll give him a call, he’ll help you, and if he doesn’t i’ll play for any of your bills ok?” sasha says packing up her stuff. she kisses your cheek before leaving the quiet study area, leaving you alone to your own thoughts.

you stare at the contact card, pulling dr. jaeger’s name up on your laptop and scrolling through his website. sasha was right about one thing, his prices WERE cheap. about $65 an hour and he also had packages where two weeks of therapy would be about $350 in total.

the prices however, weren’t enough to convince you fully, as your scroll down to see the reviews.

“dr. jaeger saved me. after the loss of my wife, i never felt like so lonely, but my daughter told me about him and he’s helped me heal properly and not turn to anything crazy. he’s an amazing person with amazing talents as such a young age. 5 stars”

ok.. that was something. not that you were going to invalidate them, but that seemed just.. fake. you decided to read another one.

“oh my gosh. no one would believe how amazing someone is at listening and understanding a person’s thoughts. dr. jaeger was nothing like those terrible therapists who make you pay $100 for an shitty hour call. oh how i wished i can say more, but the character limit is fu”

you giggled at that one. maybe i should give him a call. with a deep breath, you called the number.

“hello? my name is y/n, i’d like to speak to dr. jaeger please.”

—

it’s been about a month since you’ve scheduled a session with dr. jaeger, only having to wait that long due to “heavy traffic”. sasha is currently driving you to the building.

“you know, i’m really proud of you for calling. i was scared you were going to stay depressed forever.” sasha says over her 80s radio playing.

“let’s not get too happy yet, he could still be shit at his job..” you say cutting down any happy thoughts.

“you’re STILL doubting him y/n? i get that some people are money hungry, but i promise you he’s not. if he was, do you think ME of all people would be recommending you to him? i mean c’mon, have some faith please.”

“i’m sorry, i just nervous ok. my stomach is doing backflips at the moment.”

“hey man, if you feel like farting, ill park somewhere and you can walk the rest of the way.”

you two pull up to the parking lot, fancy with a modern style front. the office itself if very modern and 2 floored.

“k, i’m gonna drop you off here, call me when you’re done ok?”

you walk out of sasha’s car, waving her goodbye while she drives away. you walk into the sleek office, with painting from what you the assume were from the last two centuries.

the receptionist greets you with a nice smile “welcome, how may i help you today?” you give her your name. “ah i see, you right on time then, ill have this guard guide you to dr. jaeger’s office.” just then, a semi tall man with a black uniform from comes in-front of me. “right this way.”

he leads me into the elevator, where he then leads me into a hallway with lots of rooms. there’s multiple therapists in this building, all with different ways. as i look through the glass windows, i see pet therapy, group therapy and even massage therapy. the guard finally stops at a door, with a name tag having “DR. JAEGER” on it. “here’s your room, have a nice day.” he says as he’s walking away. you give him a quick thank you and knock on the door.

a deep “come in.” follows shortly after, and you enter the room. first impression of when you enter the room was that sasha was right. the room was anything from boring, and didn’t have white walls but instead had a mix of brown and auburn. there was lots of old-style decor too. a record player, cd’s and even the tv was kinda old.

however you were greeted with the most shocking thing of all, dr. jaeger himself. he looked away from his papers, to look at you and gave you a warm smile. his visuals was… something you didn’t expect. most therapist are middle-aged men and women, that are sort-of not the most attractive. but that was ok, because they wanted to help you, not seduce you. dr. jaeger on the other hand was extremely beautiful. he has dark brown hair, put up in a semi-messy bun, the most luscious green eyes, and very kissable pink lips.

i guess you were admiring his facial features for too long to notice dr. jaeger looking at you weirdly. “maybe un-responsive.” he mutters to himself, typing down on his laptop. upon hearing his words, you apologize and scurried to the seat in-front of him.

“or not. . . my name is dr. jaeger, if you’ve haven’t gotten a chance to see on the door.”

“i did, sorry for not responding earlier.”

“it’s ok, its common for most genders to be shocked at how i look.” dr. jaeger said in a non-concerned voice. you were took aback a little by his comment, most genders to be shocked at how he looked? you were wondering if he was just annoyed at the common occurrence or just knew that he was an attractive man. “pushing that aside,” he sighed “sasha has told me a lot about you.” he says looking up at you.

“she did?” you question.

“mhm, she cares for you ms….” he looks at the paper look for your last name.

“y/l/n.”

“ah, thank you. sasha cares for you ms. y/l/n. she talks about your recovery, and wants you to best happy for her.” he says maintaining eye contact. you can’t respond to such kindness. all you can do is nod your head and smile.

“but as a therapist view-point, the death of a loved one is one of the hardest battle we have to overcome as a human being. no matter how emotionless a person may be, the death of anything else to them will always cause someone to break. that’s just how we are, we humans . . . after all.” he says empathically.

“my job isn’t to make you forget your mother, or forget the pain you feel about her. you always feel pain lingering about her, and that’s ok. i’m just here to help you reduce that pain.”

you were shocked. cheap prices, handsome therapist AND a good one at that? maybe it’s good to stay faithful after all.

—

it’s been about 3 weeks since you’ve had daily therapy sessions with mr. jaeger and he’s honestly been helping you a lot. you had different kinds of sessions, like walking around and even some pet therapy. today was for a usual one-on-one walk around the building beautiful outside landscape.

as you and dr. jaeger walk around, you wave to the other clients with their own therapists. “see how social you’ve gotten? when we first came here, you were begging to stay back inside due to all the people,” he jokes around. “now, you’re friendly with them. it’s good progress.” he smiles to himself.

“it was only because of you, dr. jaeger. i don’t think i’d be the way i am without your help.”

“ah. . . don’t flatter me too much. let’s sit right here yea?” he says pointing towards the swinging wood benches. “it’s beautiful outside, isn’t it ms. y/l/n?” he turns to look at you.

“yea, it really is.” you turn back to stare at him. god, you can stare into his eyes for hours. it’s something that about that were so addicting, that you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. to break the silence, you decided to follow up with a cheeky comment. “say dr. jaeger, you really know how to keep a client.” he moves his head to the side, confused. “i like to believe that my clients stay with my due to how i help them and not my looks.” ah fuck. it was not received well at all, and you just profusely apologized to him.

“but, if my looks did make people stay, that wouldn’t be all too bad huh,” he says giving a hearty laugh. “but tell me now, ms y/l/n. does my looks make you stay?” you were at a loss for words. one part of you wanted to say “fuck yes” while another part of you wanted to say “absolutely not”. and you of course went with the latter.

“whatever your answer is, it doesn’t bother me either way. . . but it looks like our time is up ms. y/l/n.” you look down at your phone for the time. it was up after he exclaimed. the two of you head back to his office to pick you up your stuff.

that night later, you were chilling in your bed, getting ready to dose off. you however, couldn’t sleep without thinking about a fantasy. it didn’t matter what type, other than it having to be something interesting. you close your eyes, your mind shifting to dr. jaeger, and the moments between you two that drove you insane. like that one time he wore a turtle neck, showing off his clothed six-pack abs. you imagined yourself touching them, feeling the rock-hardness of them. you open your eyes again, looking around the room. to be honest, you haven’t.. you know what, in a while and you thought it might be time to do it again.

you move your bedsheets closer to the edge to give you more space. and moved all your pillows away except for one. you pulled your phone out and started to record. it might seem weird to other people, but you like to record yourself, in the time that you couldn’t find anything good on twitter or reddit.

you start to rock your hips back n forth on the pillow, assuming it the body of a male. maybe it was dr. jaeger body you could’ve been assuming it off. either way, it turned you on, seeing how you started to move faster on your pillow. one of your hands grip the pillow, as the other hand massages your boob. you move faster, enjoying the friction your clit is getting between the pillow and your soaked panties. you close your eyes, imagining dr. jaeger guiding your body with his big, veiny hands. as you’re about to climax, you can’t help but subtly whimper his name.

once you’ve finished, you end the video. while you’re cleaning up, sasha enters the room. “hey girlie, i was thinking of getting some drinks tomorrow night? wanna come?” she says exciting. “i would but i have a session with dr. jaeger tomorrow.”

“boo, you’re boring.”

“whatever, i’m going to the shower, so let me know if anything happens ok?”

“yea yea boring y/n.”

you go to the bathroom and take off your clothes, hopping inside the shower. you turn on the water, letting the lukewarm water hit your skin. you are alone with your thoughts until sasha comes inside the bathroom.

“not to be nosey, but dr. jaeger texted you.” she says.

“mhm really? what did he say?”

“i didn’t look at it properly, but something about a daily wellness video?” you knew right away. dr. jaeger usual makes his clients make videos of themselves with positive affirmations, then with their consent, he’ll use it on his website for future clientele.

“ahh ok! just send him the most recent video.” you photo gallery takes forever to update, so there’s a chance it’ll take forever to show the video of your “naughty time”.

“ok, sending right now… and it’s sent. if he wants a further conversation, i’ll let you know.”

“thanks sash.”

as you walk out the steamy bathroom, and get ready for bed, you check your notifications for any new ones. you go into the chat between you and dr. jaeger, seeing if theres anything new. you took a look at the video of your affirmation, seeing the shirt you wore today as the thumbnail. you clicked on it, expecting your face to zoom out, as you were testing the camera quality always. to your shock, you camera didn’t zoom out. but instead was your body moving back and forth on something. your heart dropped. it couldn’t be. you’re praying it wasn’t. you skip some of the video to see if it was truly what you think it was, but the video suddenly changed to a more in-depth shot of you humping the pillow with your panties being in view.

your heart start to beat faster than usual. you click off the video to delete it right away. dr. jaeger didn’t respond to it, and it said it was ‘delivered.’ you wanted to tell yourself that he hasn’t seen it, and probably watches those videos early in the morning. you weren’t going to stress yourself out though, you were just gonna go to his office per usual, and get counseling per usual.

—

you take a deep breath and knock at his door, hoping it all ends well. you hear his “come in” but it sounds different from before. his voice went an octave lower. you walk into the room, seeing a more “messy” side of dr. jaeger. at-least he didn’t look at cleaned up as he usually does. his bun was a lot more frizzy from before and he had two buttons undone on his button up shirt.

maybe he had a rough morning. you think to yourself. “good morning ms. y/l/n. how was your night?” you stopped for a second. such a simple question was something so dangerous to you. “it was fine, dr. jaeger. how about yours?”

“oh. one of the best i’ve had in a while.”

“ah. mine was the worst i’ve had in a while.” you mumbled.

“really? i would’ve assumed you’ve had a very nice night ms. y/l/n.”

you stare at him confused. what could he mean by that? yea, you fixed your hair a little better than usual, and your eye bags have gone away overtime, but you truly did have a sleepless night yesterday. dr. jaeger gets up from his chair, to lean on his desk, standing in-front of you. he stared down at you with his usually lighter colored eyes now displayed a dark-green. and his pupils were more extended.

“i don’t know what gives you the impression that i’ve had a nice night dr. jaeger.”

he bends to to match the height of the chair, and put both of his hands on the rest, restricting me from mounting off of it easily. “let’s cut the crap, y/n. i saw what you sent me.” at this moment, it felt like 100 daggers were suddenly lodged into your chest.

“i wondered why you asked what you did yesterday. i thought to myself ‘maybe she thought i was attractive’, but i see it was more than that i see,” he says not breaking eye contact. “you see, as a human, we see something we like, and have many kinds of thoughts about it. and i see the thoughts you have towards me are stronger than what i expected.”

“i’m truly sorry dr. jaeg-“

“call me eren, seeing as that is what you called me in the video.”

“i’m sorry eren, truly. i don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable or hurt this relationship between us.” i say holding back my tears.

“hurt? uncomfortable? those words are out of the park right now,” he says standing up. “to be honest, tell me why you came today y/n.”

“to have a therapy session with you.” you meekly say.

“is my looks standing in the way of you healing with the death of your mother?” he says standing behind me.

“not at all, dr. jae- eren.”

“so then what provoked you to send me a five minute long video of you fucking yourself to a pillow in the imagination that it’s me?” you were at a loss for words. he was right. your heart sank as his word dug deeper into you. and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. you started to quietly sob, feeling large hands down your shoulders. you feel a hot breath near your eyes chill down your spine. “don’t cry, not in this manner at least,” he says in your ear.

“cry because you can’t handle it, y/n.”

you stopped and turned to look at him. he had a devilish grin on his face. “handle what?” you say, not catching his gist.

“you’ll find out soon enough.”

eren lifts you up by the arm and spins you around to face him completely. you didn’t know what was going on, but you didn’t want to push away. your faces was a mere 4 inches away from each other. “can i? y/n. . . can i give you what you want?”

you look at his eyes then his lips then his eyes again. fuck it, you nod your head and eren kisses you passionately. he stops kissing you for a moment to push the chairs aside. you look at his desk to see his usually messy papers cleaned up to the side. he planned this probably . . . eren picks you up and places you on his desk.

he places a hand on your chin, rubbing it gently. “open it baby,” he says as his kisses you again, but placing his tongue all over the inside of your mouth. his hands tug on the bottom of your shirt, signaling for it to be removed. in between each kiss, you both take off a piece of clothing until you up to your undergarments. eren slips his large hand under your breast, fondling with it while he leaves wet hickeys on your neck. with the other hand he unclasps the bra, throwing it the ground. he kisses you again, muttering “nice tits”.

you pull at the band of his underwear, “want you in me ren’.” you whine. “patience baby.” eren says sliding your panties off to the floor.

“are you on any pills by any chance?”, he says rubbing ur slick all over your cunt. “m-mhm ren.’”

“good. so i don’t have to hold back.”

eren slips his underwear off, revealing his long, veiny and girthy dick. you want to guess it’s around 6-7 inches, but it was gonna tear you up regardless. he strokes his dick, ‘lubing’ it up with his pre-cum. he inches closer to you, having his dick and your hole just one insert away from each other. you open your legs wider and lay down on his desk, giving him more access to yourself. “didn’t even have to ask.” eren said.

he teases the tip of his dick on your clit. your whole body tingles in response, arching your back off the cold desk. “please ren’…” you beg, desperately wanting his dick buried into you. “please fuck me eren.”

“as you wish.” with that, eren aligns himself with your entrance, slowly pushing himself in. the both of you moan simultaneously from the pleasure you both felt. eren starts to push his hips back and forth into you, keeping a firm grip on your waist. eren keeps a nice pace, making sure to satisfy both sides. suddenly, eren lifts your legs, wrapping them around his waist. you jolted from the tingle he gave you. you were trying to conceal your moans, but every time it was getting louder than usual, eren made sure put his hand over your mouth.

eren’s pace starts to unstable, moving fast at times and then slowing down to grind himself on you. you can tell he was close to his climax, seeing how desperate and shaky thrusts were.

“‘m so close baby. . .” he grunts.

“‘ren please! mhm.” you whine, begging him to release.

“at the same time? what a good girl..” he barely breathes out.

eren picks you up by the waist to pull you closer to him. there wasn’t enough space between you too, but he didn’t care. eren grinds his dick into you, feeling his dick throb in your walls. then, you feel a warm liquid pour inside of you, while at the same time cry out from your orgasm.

#anime smut #aot smut #eren smut #aot x poc!reader #aot x reader #aot x black reader #eren x black fem!reader

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emyn-arnens · 3 months

Note

For the five sentence meme if you're still taking those: "There was obvious tension in Faramir's posture."

This one got away from me! I've been ruminating a lot lately about Faramir's and Aragorn's disparate visions for Gondor, and it all spilled out here. (Five sentences game.)

There was obvious tension in Faramir's posture as he read the letter the messenger had delivered to the door of their chambers, apologizing for the lateness of the hour.

Éowyn put down the comb she had been brushing her hair with, troubled by the disquiet she read in Faramir's face. “Is something the matter?” Though the light in their chambers was dim, for the hour was indeed late, she could still discern the king's seal on the back of the letter.

“Aragorn intends to press farther into Rhûn,” Faramir said, refolding the letter, “to quell the Easterlings there and reclaim Gondor’s territory of old around the Sea of Rhûn. He wishes to hold a council and hear his lords’ minds on the matter.”

Éowyn rose to join him, and he handed the letter to her. “You think the campaign ill-advised,” she said after reading the missive. She studied him: A line of worry scored his brow, and tension drew the lines of his body tight.

“Even when Gondor had control of those lands, they were tenuously held, and Gondor has not now the power or population it did in those days to hold the land with a great force of men,” Faramir said, moving to his desk to collect a map and spread it out across their bed. “The Sea of Rhûn and the lands just to the east of it marked the farthest eastern border of Gondor during the days of warring and expansion.” Éowyn watched as he drew with his forefinger an outline of the border on the map.

“Such far-flung borders were hard bought, and Gondor has paid dearly for doing so, for it was Gondor’s own roads of old in the South and East that the Haradrim used to hasten their armies to the Pelennor and that the Wainriders used to invade Gondor many years ago. I fear that in doing this, it would merely repeat the follies of the past and weaken Gondor—if not now, then in many years hence. I would not have our children or our children’s children suffer from a needless conquest that will only breed future trouble.”

“But that is not the only reason that this troubles you,” Éowyn said, placing her hand on his forearm so that he turned to look at her. Worry pinched at his brow, and she longed to smooth the lines of concern away with her thumb. “It is the war and conquest itself that is the chief matter. It is not what you wished for Gondor—to be a mistress of slaves, to be feared. And that seems now a certainty.”

They had spoken of such things before, when the early campaigns in the South and East had seemed less routs than conquests, and Faramir had feared that Minas Tirith was to become the cruel mistress of broken lands and peoples. But the campaigns had drawn to an end soon after, and Aragorn had looked to rebuilding other parts of his realm, and it seemed such fears had been dispelled.

“It is not what I wished for Gondor,” Faramir said. Sorrow hollowed his words.

Éowyn drew him nearer and took his hands in hers. “What will you do?”

“I will do my duty. I will speak my mind at the council, and if I can, I will speak to Aragorn in private and seek to dissuade him from this course. But if he will not be swayed, and if the council is of the king’s mood, I will govern as Steward while he is away. But I will not do it gladly.”

Grieved by his words, Éowyn took him in her arms, and he leaned wearily against her, pressing his forehead to hers.

#thanks for the ask!#will still take more of these if anyone's interested #faramir's and aragorn's contrasting views of gondor (and how those views impact their relationship) intrigue me endlessly #still working out how to write it but i thought i'd take a stab at it here #asks #echo-bleu #my fic

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bettsfic · 1 day

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Hi Betts,

I recently listened to an interview with an author that said “when they decided to get really serious about writing and their dreams they made a ten year plan.” So me being the planner that I am, said maybe I should do it too, especially since this writer is pretty successful. Have I made a decent enough plan? No, because being real about your dreams and committing is scary af.

But I have developed this thinking that each story I have to work on has to be “publishable” and if I can’t immediately envision its success I need to push it away. For some people this is fine. For me, I’m pushing aside every idea and am constantly writing for an invisible audience. Which has its pros and cons.

I want to become efficient so that I can be a good author. One who meets deadlines and puts out work they are proud of. But I’m wondering if it’s even possible to try to work to be an author and still create work that is fun and true to you? If a decision isn’t meaningful I won’t include it in my outline. It feels like the only time writing can be fun is when I was young and had no clue about market and rules and just assumed my dreams would come true.

you know, what i keep finding over and over again is that i was right about a great many things before i had any idea what i was doing. i just didn't know why i was right, i had no context or evidence for my rightness. granted, i was arrogant, but arrogance isn't wrong; it's just uninformed. when you inform arrogance, it becomes confidence. you become informed by getting a lot of feedback on your work and giving feedback on work; having your work accepted once or twice and accepting someone else's work; having your work rejected hundreds of times and being the one to reject. maybe you've done all those things already, in which case you're firmly on your path and there's not much you have to do besides keep going.

i definitely relate to what you're saying, though. i would be lying if i said i wasn't just days ago in a phase of berating myself for my failures and wishing i could work harder and more efficiently. i've cultivated some confidence about my work, but there are some ways in which i'm too arrogant and others in which i'm too humble. i have a long way to go still in informing myself about my work and the process of making it.

you'll be in positions where you have to make creative concessions for the sake of publishing, but don't make them before you get anything on the page. listen to your own ideals and make those ideals happen in your work. a year ago, i finished a novel that was my favorite thing i'd ever made, and i was so proud of it, but i knew it wasn't publishable in the state it was in. even though i'd worked a year on it, it was still an early draft and bore the marks of an early draft, but i couldn't see that because i'd never taken any project further than that one. i'd never felt closer to a project or more intensely toward it. and when i was done, i went through six months grieving it, in a sense, because i knew i'd have to rewrite it. i had to kill the thing that it was in order for it to become what it needed to be. i came to accept that, and the next six months sat on the frustration of not knowing what direction to take it, but having the wisdom to know i couldn't rush it or force it.

and then the fix came to me all at once. the fix involves getting rid of many things that were once dear to me. not even darlings, but entire themes i felt were meaningful, that were the very things i want to share and explore in my work. i don't feel so bad about giving those things up now. what i take out will be put into something else eventually, and what i keep will stand out more starkly. the new parts i write will fit better and serve the story itself, even if it's no longer the story i originally intended to tell.

when you're drafting, your work is in a private conversation with yourself; it's about you even if it isn't. but it can't stay about you. eventually it has to stand on its own. and you might think, well why can't i just write something that stands on its own to begin with? but if you do that, writing is just work, it's business, and it may be more efficient but it's also less meaningful. there's no such thing as efficient creativity. it takes as long as it takes, and if you force yourself on a ten year timeline you might as well focus that energy on something more lucrative and within your control. there's so much about writing that's just chance and discovery and failure and faith.

so i think you should go back to assuming your dreams will come true and not thinking too much about anything except the work itself until you get to the point where you have to. and it will hurt. it may hurt more than anything hurt you've ever put yourself through. but trust you'll get to where you're going, even if it takes longer than you intended.

#writing advice #publishing #concession #process

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targaryen-realness · 1 year

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The secret History-chapter 1

Title: The secret History

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader modern!au

Warnings: Toxic family realtionships, mention of scars, mention of blood, smut and other nsfw themes, Reader uses They/them pronouns but mention of female anatomy, Not canon compliant, Reader has tattoos, academic rivalry. (more will be added with time). Reader is from no particular house but has family in Westeros and Essos.

Summary: Aemond is a private person. He likes being surrounded by his family but also wishes he could be free of the pressure that comes with being who he is. When he met you, you became his only distraction, the fact that you are stubborn and incredibly smart does nothing to push him away. But being who he is, he knows that nothing can happen between the two of you. It does not help that sometimes he still thinks of another.

Notes: Hope you all enjoy it! You can just leave a comment there or send me a private message if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tags: @yearninginpages

It was the smell of coffee and the prospect of a day far away from his family that got Aemond Targaryen the necessary motivation to leave his house in the morning. The strange thing was that he actually liked college. He loved reading, he loved learning and the deep feeling of validation that came with excellent grades was always a plus. There were just too many people there. He might not have been bothered by it if he was not a Targaryen, second son of king Viserys, third sibling of the heir to the crown, Rhaenyra Targaryen. In his young years Aemond had lust for the crown, everything he was doing in life was in prospect of one day being king. He felt he was the most worthy. Those years were behind him, and except for a deep sense of melancholy and the feeling of having no purpose in life, he had grieved the hope of one day being king. This is why he was now on his way to class, finally finishing his philosophy degree. Class bore him to death, and all he wanted truly was to write his final memoir and be done with it. What he would do after, was still a mystery even to himself. It did not help that he and his family members were very easily recognisable. White hair and purple eyes, everyone recognised them. The fact he was the one wearing an eyepatch and a scar on his face did not help his case. Aegon, his brother, relished on it, Helaena couldn't care less, he on the other hand, could not stand it. He appreciated the distance it put between him and the others eventually. The other students gossiped, but in the end, he was out of reach for most of them. His friend group was very restricted, consisting of his sibling, Helaena mostly, and his nephews, Luke and Jace who also intended this school. King’s Landing college was the most prestigious and private university of Westeros. Only the richest could attend, or very hard working students that succeeded in getting the scholarship.

-It’s okay.”

He nodded simply and left before you could say anything. He did not stand around to see you still standing here in shock. His heart was beating fast and suddenly he regretted his poor social skills. He turned around to see you were already gone. The look on your face plagued his mind for the remaining hours, so much that not even hours in the library helped him forget you. He had no idea why. He had no idea who you were if he was being honest. He was sure he had never seen you anywhere. Why his mind could not let go of you was a mystery. His brother even came to see him during lunch, having heard of his little encounter this morning.

“First day since summer break and everyone is already talking about you”

Aegon was smiling and Aemond thought for a moment that his brother just loved seeing him suffer.

“So, were they pretty at least?

-Who?”

It was Helaena that just arrived with her own lunch.

“Someone ran into Aemond this morning, according to the witnesses, it was rather intense.

-This is ridiculous, I was just walking, they ran into me, said sorry and that’s it.

-Seems pretty normal to me”, said his sister, and he looked at her, grateful.

“He never had contact with anyone till now, of course people are going to talk about it.

-I have plenty of contact, thank you very much.

-Maybe it’s you that has too much contact”, said Helaena, taking a bite out of her food.

Aemond smiled watching Aegon put his hands up in surrender. None of them talked about the stranger from this morning again and Aemond was finally able to eat his lunch in peace. The fencing classes did not start until next month, so he had plenty of free time until his last class of the day. His day had gone so fast he did not know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. As he was slowly getting outside in one of the courtyards to smoke a cigarette alone he let his mind wander. He growled at himself as the stranger’s face popped in his mind again. He was not the type to think of people that much. His brother was wrong on a lot of things though. Aemond had dated before, he just was more subtle about it than Aegon. His last girlfriend, Alys, had not been from King’s Landing, and he did not meet her at college, which definitely helped with privacy. They had stayed together for two years, until he broke it off. He still could not really put words on the reasons for the separation, he just did not feel like pursuing this relationship. He had been single for a year now and he was happy this way. He was free and for someone who felt like maintaining relationships was sometimes a chore, it was perfect.

The thing was that when you were a Targaryen, that the entire country was looking at you constantly, and that your family was also looking at every step you took, it was difficult to even think of casual hook ups. His last was probably dating from last halloween. Not that anything really happened with the person but gods he had wished for it. The thing was, he could not even really remember the face of the person. He was drunk not enough that he did not remember what happened, but enough so that he did not even think of asking for the person’s name at the time. It was weird it had happened twice but it just proved it was not out of character for him. What did not help was that the stranger was wearing a mask, he did not even remember what of, and while they were making out they just had lifted the mask up to their nose. It was hot, at least that’s what he thought at the time. His mind had wandered on this precise moment ever since, their lips, their scent, and the feeling of their skin under his fingers. He will remember forever the sight of their back too. As they were pressed together against the door of the bathroom in the house of someone he did not really know, he had a good peek at their back. The black ink that adorned their skin was something that had haunted his dreams for weeks after and he even found himself still thinking about it recently. Just like now. Maybe it was the way their back was arching that made him able to see the part of the tattooed sword so low on their back. Maybe it was also because of the dragon wrapping itself around that sword, its large wings spreading on their lower back. He thought he should thank whoever once made pants cut so low. For sure it was something he would never forget. Maybe it was because his family and dragons were linked since the dawn of time. He found it quite amusing now that he thought of it. It might have been also because it was his first real contact with someone in this way since his break up with Alys. He still thought he had fallen in love instantly in that bathroom. He had abandoned the prospect of one day finding them again, as he realised it would simply be impossible. The sexy stranger would stay a fantasy he thought of at night alone in his bed. It was better this way.

He arrived at his last class in advance and took the same seat he took last year. He liked the routine. This class was actually a favourite of his. Ancient Valyria History. He did not need it at all, he knew everything he needed to know about it, his entire childhood he had taken private lessons about it. He knew high valyrian like it was his mother tongue. Maybe it was him being lazy, knowing it would be an easy class. Maybe it was just an escape from his other classes that were all about politics and philosophy.

People were now arriving, pulling out their laptops, and as the professor started talking he started tapping on his computer. He heard the door behind him open but did not look back until the person walked past him. He recognised you almost instantly. It was that sweater you were wearing, and that bag that looked way too heavy for you that he recognised first. He did not realise this morning that you had the same taste in matters of clothing as an old man but it made him smile internally. You did not seem to have noticed him as you took a seat in front of him. The lecture went swiftly and soon he found himself packing his bag, barely paying attention as the professor was announcing the final project for the semester.

“A pair work. You can choose an ancient valyrian source and study it in depth.”

Aemond felt his body tense. The fact he was going to have to work with someone, talk to them and actually trust them enough with a part of his grade stressed him out. You turned around to grab your bag and your eyes met. Your mouth opened slightly but you ended up smiling at him, simply. You left with the others, and as he watched you walk up the stairs, an idea germinated in his mind. He packed his bag and tried to find you in the corridor. He saw you talking with one of the girls that was seated in the front of the class earlier. He could not hear what you were saying but he saw the way your shoulders dropped as the girl was talking. She waved at you and you waved back, still standing there, obviously defeated. He approached you, the noise of his shoes on the floor tiles made you lift your head. You seemed surprised but still waited for him to approach you. He was going to talk but you cut him before he could utter a word.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I wasn’t looking really”

He was wondering if you were overly polite or if he was just that terrifying. Maybe you just did not want to make an enemy out of him, which was smart, but he would never hate someone for something so trivial.

“I told you it’s alright. I was actually wondering if you already had a partner for the class.”

You genuinely seemed surprised by his question.

“No. Actually I don’t have anyone yet. Are you asking me because you would like to work with me?

-I do indeed”

He smirked at your doubtful expression. For a second he thought you would reject his offer but he saw you take your phone out of your pocket as you simply said:

“I can give you my number. So we can discuss the source material, if you have any idea yet, or anything.”

He was surprised, if he was going to be honest with himself, he did not expect you to react like this. In his mind you would either be terribly disinterested or too into it. You looked calm and composed. Ready and determined to work.

“If you just want us to talk about it in class it’s okay”

He realised he had not answered your question just yet. He shook his head and simply said:

“I don’t usually give my number to people.

-Yeah that’s why I am giving you mine. I only have one request, don’t give it to your brother”

He snorted at that comment. He probably should defend his brother but honestly, that was a logical concern on your part.

“I won’t.”

You gave him your number and you did not ask for his in exchange, he also appreciated that you did not ask him why he was so wary of that. You parted way after that, him with a simple node, but he simply turned around before you could go too far.

“I did not even ask you your name?”

You smiled, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“You could just have checked the contact name you know?”

He raised a brow still waiting.

“Y/n. I’m Y/n.

-I’m Aemond”

Your smile became even wider.

“I know”

And with that you turned around and left. This time he stayed until you disappeared at the corner. He looked at his phone, a little smile stretching his lips, and left.

Saying that you were in shock would be an understatement. You did not know by what miracle you had not embarrassed yourself in front of him, but you thanked the gods you had not. It started this morning when you bumped into him. You were listening to some music and really were not paying attention. When you lifted your head to see Aemond Targaryen, your brain fried. You prayed for a moment he would not remember you, and you did not think he did. You excused yourself, probably sounding like a madman, but he simply dismissed you and you took this as a sign to get the hell out of here. So you did. You ran out, hoping no one would think too much of this encounter. At your lunch break, you found yourself with a friend of yours who immediately told you that an idiot rushed into a Targaryen this morning. You took a bite of your sandwich but you were not very angry anymore.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

-It was me.

-What?

-It was me!”

She looked like you had just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“Of course it’s you! It’s always you!” She laughed, abandoning her lunch too.

The rest of your day was calm compared to the beginning. You had gone to work, leaving college to go to your job. Your part time job was actually being a barista in a cosy cafe not too far away from university. It was in the centre of King’s landing, in the old part of the city, still called flea bottom to this day. Everything was supposed to go smoothly, except today was not your lucky day. The end of your shift was very close from the beginning of your last class. Generally you were just on time for your history class, but today was not one of those days. You had been asked by your boss to stay later to finish cleaning tables. You speed run through the task before jumping into the bus back to college. You ran to your class, trying to compose yourself before entering but you knew you looked like you had just run a marathon. You took notes, trying to get your mind out of the gutter and you were doing better until the professor announced that you will have to do some pairwork. The idea of having to work with someone on such a project was just making you even more tired. You were packing your things when you met the gaze of Aemond Targaryen. You had never seen that man as much as you did today, or at least not since last year. You smiled at him, trying to act as calm as possible, as if your mind was not plagued by this man. Everything had started with him. He was the original start of your bad luck streak. You left as fast as you could, trying to catch up with a girl you knew with the intention of asking her to be your partner. Sadly, she was already paired with someone.

“Sorry Y/n, I did not see you. I would have said yes but I already have someone.

-It’s okay, don’t worry.”

You waved her goodbye, and as you turned around you saw Aemond walking towards you. You felt yourself hold your breath as you watched him approach. You tried not to look too intensely at the way he walked. He always looked so elegant and arrogant if you were being honest. Maybe it was his perfect posture, his perfectly ironed clothes. The way he dressed like a dark academia lover wet dream. It was also the way his beautiful hair looked so silky, even when they were tied up into a ponytail like today. Your fascination with ancient Valyria may explain the way you looked at him, but to be honest he was just hot. And he looked mean, which was, if you looked back at your exes, exactly your type.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I wasn’t looking really”, you said, surprised that you sounded so confident. You did not want him to think you were an asshole, and even if you already had apologised, you did not know if his majesty needed to hear it again.

“I told you it’s alright. I was actually wondering if you already had a partner for the class.”

His voice was melodious and the way he spoke, he sounded confident and not in a bad way. You could not contain your surprise at his question, and it probably reflected on your face, because you saw him raise one of his brow.

“No. Actually I don’t have anyone yet. Are you asking me because you would like to work with me?

-I do indeed”

You were doubtful but when you saw his smirk, you felt your aloofness melt like ice in the sun.

“I can give you my number. So we can discuss the source material, if you have any idea yet, or anything.”

It was his turn to look surprised and you almost smiled at his expression.

“If you just want us to talk about it in class it’s okay.

-I don’t usually give my number to people.

-Yeah that’s why I am giving you mine. I only have one request, don’t give it to your brother”

He probably thought you were some crazy fangirl that just wanted to sleep with him. You were not a fangirl for sure. The only thing you loved that was remotely linked to Aemond’s lineage was that you were graduating in ancient Valyria history. You understood the sentiment though. Some people were obsessed with the idea of getting with one of the Targaryens, or even their cousins the Valaryon. It was almost a fetish for some.

“I won’t.”

You entered your phone number in his contact list and handed him back his phone. You told him to text you when he was ready to divulge such a prized information to a stranger and left him. He said goodbye but before you could leave you heard his voice again.

“I did not even ask you your name?”

You turned around again and smirked.

“You could just have checked the contact name you know?”

He did not answer so you said:

“Y/n. I’m Y/n.

-I’m Aemond”

You almost laughed at this. Of course.

“I know”

You went home this day with your mind full of a certain Targaryen and a very specific day from last autumn. You ate and went to bed, a smile on your lips as you saw that an unknown number had sent you a message.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #modern!aemond Targaryen #house of the dragon modern au #aemond targaryen x reader #college!au #student!reader #student!Aemond

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