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astermath · 1 year

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nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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blue-slxt · 8 months

Text

The Game

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: So this was inspired by crazy, horny ramblings from discord. I just love my man and threesomes are pretty fun (even if they are a monster to actually write lol). All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader x Fem!Na'vi!OC

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Threesome, Oral (M and F receiving), Face Riding, Sapphic Kissing/Touching, Creampie

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Neteyam gets caught up in you and your friend's "game".

Everything about this whole situation was just so unusual. Neteyam couldn't believe he found himself in this scenario. It was so unlike him to get caught up. But he had been distracted. It was supposed to be another regular trip through the forest. But something was different tonight. He got careless; he got distracted. He smelled a scent he wasn't familiar with. As many times as he's walked through this forest, he knew it inside and out and he knew that whatever this scent was, it didn't belong here.

He hushed his own breath and lightened his footsteps as he moved closer to the unfamiliar smell. It was floral, but with a hint of some type of fruit that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Peeking through the bushes, he noticed your crouched form next to the river. Your back was turned towards him and it seemed you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

He almost called out to you, but when he saw your face, his voice was lost to him. To say he thought you were beautiful was an understatement. Your features were soft and round, but there was a hardened edge to your expression. Clearly a gentle and nurturing soul, but a heart made of steel and no fear.

That's where he fucked up. He got so lost in his musings about you that he let his guard down and didn't notice the second presence coming up behind him until a strong hand grabbed ahold of his kuru and a cool blade was pressed against his throat.

"Move slowly..." the second voice speaks lowly to him.

She stands to her feet and brings Neteyam with her and moves both of them through the bushes into the clearing. "Who did you find this time, Ìze?" you say brushing your braids out of your face.

With a sly grin, she walks him closer to you, "We got a big catch this time. None other than the prince of the Omatikaya himself."

"What is this?" Neteyam asks, trying to piece together the unfolding situation.

"Why don't you tell us? You were the one watching me, weren't you?" you say walking up to him and trailing your fingers over his broad chest.

His ears pin themselves to his head feeling embarrassed at being caught and called out. "Fine. So what do you want?"

Ìze chuckles behind him, "Same thing that you want, pretty boy." Her hand on his kuru eases its grip and starts to lightly stroke the base making Neteyam's breath grow heavy.

"It's okay, Nete~..." you say his name with a sweet tease. "We just want to play with you a little bit..."

"How do you know my name?" he asks, trying to not let the quiver in his voice show.

"Oh, you are famous even among other clans, Mr. future olo'eyktan." Ìze answers finally lowering her knife from his throat. And yet, Neteyam still makes no attempt to escape.

"I've been dying to find out if the Omatikaya prince tastes as good as he looks", you continue letting your fingers dance along the waist of his tewng.

Ìze slowly circles around to his front letting his kuru slide sensually through her hand before letting it fall. Now that Neteyam could clearly see her face, he could see that she was beautiful too, but in an entirely different way. Where your beauty radiated nurturing warmth and hidden power, Ìze was beautiful in an intimidating way. She was clearly the hunter type and everything from her posture to her voice commanded respect.

"So take your pick, Nete~" Ìze teases the nickname.

Neteyam tries desperately to quickly rework his malfunctioning brain to come up with some kind of a response. But any words that come to mind, die in his throat before they ever make it to his lips. His eyes just flicker back and forth between the two of you trying to make sense of at least some part of this.

"What's the matter?" you ask, stepping closer and running your hand along his perfectly chiseled jaw. "Yerik got your tongue?"

Neteyam's not sure why he did what he did next. Maybe it was how sweet you smelled or the shiver he felt all the way down to his tail when you touched him. Regardless of why, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in close against him.

Your eyes go wide with excitement and a devilish grin plasters itself on your face. Ìze's expression mimics your own at the unfolding situation in front of you both. You're not quite done having your fun yet, though. You lift up on your toes and press light kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the corners of his mouth, his chin, everywhere except where he really wants you. When his patience runs thin, Neteyam uses two fingers to hold your chin and keep you in place so that he can properly place a firm kiss on your lips.

His lips are in perfect sync moving against yours, but before you can fully comprehend anything, his tongue is swiping at your lower lip begging to be let in. You eagerly grant him entrance just as you feel another set of hands wrap around you and cup your breasts. Neteyam’s tongue dances with yours where he clearly sets the tone and takes the lead and you’re more than happy to submit to him. You sigh into the kiss feeling Ìze give your earlobe a playful nip. You finally pull back from the kiss leaving a thin string of saliva connecting your lips together.

“My turn” Ìze says still groping at your body that was thoroughly trapped between the two of them.

She leans in over your shoulder pressing her lips to Neteyam’s and the kiss is a fierce battle of wills between the two of them. Their tongues fight for dominance as you let your hands trail lower down his toned body and you feel the outline of his dick through his tewng. Feeling how big and stiff he is right now has your breath growing heavy with anticipation. Your eagerness clearly overtakes you when your fingers get busy untying his loincloth.

When they finally break their kiss, both of their chests are heaving for air. Neteyam locks eyes with you and his blown pupils and half lidded eyes match your own. He lets you continue on your mission to rid him of the offensive cloth until it falls while he licks and nips at your neck. He breathes in deep, heady breaths of your intoxicating scent and you make no attempt to stop him from scenting you. Ìze says in your ear, “looks like the prince has taken a liking to you” with a giggle in her voice.

“It would seem so. I’ll take the first round and then we’ll switch?” you suggest with a slight moan escaping when his tongue glides just below your ear.

“Sounds good to me.”

Neteyam is so lost in leaving little marks on your otherwise perfect skin that he doesn’t even hear the two of you scheming. It’s not until you push him away by his chest that he finally breaks out of his trance. Neteyam focuses on the two pairs of eyes trained on him. More specifically, on his thick cock standing tall and proud in front of him.

“Lay down” Ìze instructs.

His ears twitch back and forth signaling that he heard her, but his tail sways in hesitation.

“Relax, your highness. Let us take care of everything.” you say tail practically thrashing behind you with excitement.

Neteyam feels like he’s having an out of body experience, watching himself follow your instructions as he lays down on the soft, glowy moss.

He watches on in curiosity and amazement when you and Ìze strip off your own tewngs in front of him leaving the three of you bare together. You approach him from the bottom while Ìze walks around to the top of Neteyam’s head. Getting down on your hands and knees, you crawl over to him and settle yourself between his thighs that twitch and jump under the gentle caress of your fingertips. It feels like you could start drooling when you finally hold him in your hand. He’s so thick and heavy in your grasp, your fingers can just barely fit all the way around.

Dragging the flat of your tongue up his length, you can see Neteyam’s abs tremble with the shuddering breath he releases. Your tongue travels up his whole length and then you take his tip into your mouth. Beads of tangy precum coat your tongue and you hum around him in satisfaction at the flavor.

The beads in his braids clink together as Neteyam’s head falls back to the ground. When he looks up, Ìze is crouched over him grinning like a devil at him.

“Ah ah ah, eyes forward, pretty boy.” She says, grabbing his face and pointing his eyes back at you. You hold searing eye contact with him while you slide him all the way into your mouth, making small gagging sounds when he brushes the back of your tongue.

“She’s doing such a good job for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she just look so gorgeous swallowing your cock?”

If your lips weren’t currently occupied, they would be tugging into a smirk watching the prince’s composure crumble. Ìze always loved taking the lead in these situations. Meanwhile, you were more of a pleaser. Nothing compared to the rush you felt when you would watch a strong warrior or proficient hunter melt under you.

Neteyam finally can’t hold your gaze any more when you shoot a wink his way. It’s more than he can handle. His eyes squeeze close while you continue to bob your head up and down on his length. Ìze takes the opportunity to turn his face back to her and capture his lips in another heated kiss.

Neteyam moans into her mouth when you hollow out your cheeks and he swallows the small chuckles she lets out.

When you and Ìze lock eyes, a silent understanding is shared between you. You pull off of Neteyam with an audible ‘pop’ and Ìze pulls back from their kiss and Neteyam is left with his head still spinning figuring out what’s happening.

“Time to see if the prince lives up to his reputation. What do you think?” Ìze teases.

“Oh, I’m sure that he won’t disappoint us” you muse, stalking closer to him and stealing a quick kiss. His lips try to chase after you when you pull away. He watches you intensely when you straddle his hips and hover right above when he really wants you to be. His hips buck beneath you trying to chase your heat. Every time he comes close, you lift your hips a little higher, keeping him from fully getting what he wants out of you just yet. He lets out a low growl of frustration, but it only amuses the two of you.

“Now, now, don’t be such a tease. I think we’ve made him wait long enough, don’t you?”, Ìze purrs walking behind you and placing her hands on your hips.You let her help guide you to finally sit down on Neteyam’s stiff cock. The stretch is even better than you imagined.

“Mmf!”

Every curve and ridge seems to fit perfectly inside of you. Neteyam can’t help but watch you sit down on it and watching the way his jaw falls to his chest is the exact sight that you love to see every time.

You move your hips up and down at a steady pace, coaxing small groans of pleasure from the man under you. Ìze takes her hands off you and makes her way to Neteyam’s face.

“Don’t forget about me just yet, prince.”

She uses two fingers on Neteyam’s forehead to gently push his head down for her to straddle his face. Neteyam wastes no time having his fill of her.

“Ahh…”

Both of you roll your hips in perfect time with each other on top of him. Your walls clench and hug around his thick cock while Ìze covers his face in her slick that he’s steadily lapping at.

“Ahn~! Nete!” you cry out when his hips snap up to meet yours. One of his hands holds on to your hip for more leverage to rut up into you. His other hand holds Ìze in place for his tongue to reach all the right spots.

“Haah…ah, right there!” she croons.

“Ìze…” you breathe out, reaching your hand towards her. A smirk crosses her lips already knowing what you wanted. She leans forward towards you and uses her fingers under your chin to tilt your face up to hers and press her lips to yours. Her tongue invades your mouth, muffling the sweet moans you make from every buck of Neteyam’s hips.

The night air is filled with the various sounds of wet skin slapping against skin and muffled sounds of pleasure from all three of you.

Your head is swirling with all the stimulation that almost borders on being too much. The smell of arousal thick in your noose, Neteyam’s tip knocking against your cervix, and Ìze playfully licking into your mouth has you quickly approaching your peak.

You finally break the kiss to catch your breath and notice Ìze’s glazed over eyes. It’s a look you’re all too familiar with from having done this so many times. It’s the look she gets when she’s close. She pants against your lips; the two of you practically sharing the breath. Below her, Neteyam attaches his lips around her clit and sucks on it lightly sending shock waves through her body. Her normally hardened, confident expression has melted away into something needy and wanting. Thankfully, you knew exactly what she needed.

Your hand reaches around the back of her head and grabs ahold of her kuru. Gently stroking the base of it, you lightly purr to her “let go for us, Ìze”.

As if you had directly spoken to oher core, her hips twitch and her thighs shake with her release that coats Neteyam’s face and runs down the sides of his mouth. Her pussy desperately clenches around nothing as she continues to ride out her high until she can come down.

Watching her like this always riled you up more. Made you go harder, faster, deeper. It was beautiful to watch every time. She was beautiful.

Her body relaxes and she drops her full weight down. Neteyam lightly taps her thigh to signal to her that he finally needs to come up for a breath and she climbs off of his face.

“Have fun~” she says with a slightly tired lilt to her voice, leaving the two of you to finish.

In one fluid motion, Neteyam sits up and lays you on your back on the ground. He throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you with more force than before. Lightning flashes through your body. Without even realizing it, your tail coils around his bicep in a subconscious attempt to help keep your mind grounded.

“Ah! Mm! Haah…Nete!”

“Cum for me, tanhì” he quietly commands you, knowing that he’s probably just as close as you are.

Your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin when your release rips through you.Your walls vice grip around him and Neteyam can’t hold back anymore. His hips stutter and lose their previously steady pace as thick ropes of white spill into you making warmth spread in your lower belly.

His lips crash into yours, still fresh with the taste of Ìze on them. It’s disorienting and addicting in the way it seems to drag out your high and make you see stars. When he breaks the kiss, you’re both trying to catch your breath.

“So?” Ìze inquires from somewhere behind you.

A smile spreads on your lips and you simply respond, “I told you he wouldn’t disappoint us”.

Taglist: @soleilmoon @netemoon @fifia-writes @strangersav11

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#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar fic #awow #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam smut #avatar smut

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f1nalboys · 3 months

Note

OMG. I love the tod headcannons. Would you ever do ian sleepover headcannons?

HELLOOOO ANON sorry this has taken so long, i do apologize and i hope its fun to read!!!!

WORD COUNT: 916

WARNINGS: not proofread, weed mention, ians a perv on occassion, mostly fluff

ok number one i need a sleepover with this guy NOWWWWWW

ian refuses to call it a sleepover. you two are hanging out, chilling, that’s all. if he spends the night then thats just what happens, it totally wasn't his end goal

i truly believe ian sleeps better in anyone elses bed than he does his own not for any particular reason he just loves the feeling of being on vacation and being in a different bed counts to him fr

he comes over with nothing. like deadass the clothes on his back and maybe some weed IF UR LUCKY

he also tends to show up ‘just for a bit’ and makes a big show about sighing at the time and being like man…. i wish i didn’t have to leave but its almost time for bed……..

like girl just ask to sleep over who cares

anyways he really hates Planned Sleepover Activities

no pillow fights, no truth or dare, no spin the bottle (this can and has been done before with him, he just has to be in the mood,) no bloody mary, etc

now, of course, if he really really really loves you, he’ll do all those things and more. he is going to COMPLAIN though. like, to the point where it’s almost unenjoyable.

he does love a good spa day though…. you ask him to put on a fuzzy robe so you can put a face mask and cucumbers on him and he’s jumping for joy lowkey

and he lets you paint his nails and stuff and he doesnt care if its messy or bumpy or if you don’t put a top coat on it, he just loves that youre doing it for ihm

ANDDDD its the quietest he’ll be. youll look up at his face and hes staring down at you with such a sickeningly sweet love sick grin that its almost enough to make you barf and he won't say a single word until youre done

and even then he’ll just go “its great baby, thank you.” heheh

like 3 hours later he’ll go “you got a lot of nail polish on my skin, god damn.” and you’ll look over and hes very methodically picking it off of his skin lol

anyways. when hes over he just wants to chill genuinely

ian is interested in getting chinese food or pizza, getting super fucking high, and having movies or music in the background while you guys talk

and he really only does one on one sleepovers, siblings or family excluded. if you invited another friend to sleepover at the same time hes gonna be in the corner like ugh…..sigh……eyeroll…..ugh…..what no im fine its whatever……sigh…..

ian is super handsy as is but when he gets tired hes worse

you’ll know hes ready for you two to go to sleep when hes suddenly attached to your back, arms around your waist and head in your shoulder

ian loves sleepovers that are simply for you two to get shit done

like ian has to rework an art piece? hes coming over and youre finally gonna clean your room.

he tries to sleep in his regular clothes all the time (he does it at home i fear to say) so if youre against that you HAVE to have some spare clothes for him. or let him sleep in his underwear but then he’s gonna get that dumb stupid sexy grin on his face and ask if youre trying to get him naked

which like yes ian i am but not like that….yet

waking up with ian is great if you get up before him because hes all cuddly and sweet and murmuring in his sleep and you can just stare and admire him

if he gets up first hes waking you up but hes also fucking with you

he shakes you awake and is like BABE YOU OVERSLEPT FOR XYZ!!!!! and you jump out of bed and hes like haha got you just kidding

or he draws on your face or arms if youre a heavy sleeper and he can get away with it

AND he takes photos of you sleeping all the time on his shitty little flip phone and he never tells you about it

until like weeks later when youre hanging with him in the car eating food and he laughs and turns his phone around to show you a picture of you slumped over, mouth open, drooling.

but hes a menace

hes like well im up so i need you up to????

like god bless erin for dealing with him

but you dont have to worry about it much, he normally sleeps in if hes able to but depending on when he went to bed, he could get up before you

and good luck trying to go back to sleep because hes hitting you with pillows and squashing you and talking until you just roll your eyes and sit up

and then hed smile and go omgggg good morning sleepyhead LIKE SHUT UP

overall, ian is a fun guy to have a sleepover with if you just want to chill, not if you want to do activities if that makes sense

but hes never going to ASK to spend the night (unless youre in the car with him about to get dropped off and hes kissing you and get handsy and THEN he’ll be like babe…. cant i just hang out :((( like sigh…. of course you can bae

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #ian mckinley #ian mckinley x reader #final destination 3 #final destination 2006 #fd 3 #fd 2006 #ian mckinley x you

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bookishdaze · 6 months

Text

My too long theory post about Mae as Reverse Caesar? This is multiple theories, really...

My theories on Mae's origins have ranged from her just being a lone smart girl among feral humans, to her coming from an underground civilization living in a bunker (My personal favorite. I like Fallout, lol).

Here's one that came to mind recently. It's not my main theory for her, (I still think she's just from some colony of smart humans) but it's my most "creative" and "crazy" one, but if people are allowed their crazy astronaut theories, THEN I'M ALLOWED THIS ONE 🤪

I'm gonna be calling her Mae/Nova for this.

Feel free to poke holes in this theory by the way, hehe.

This theory came to me after watching the new trailer, where we hear her being called "Nova," and we also get a shot of her riding on horseback with Raka. It reminded me a lot of Nova from War riding with Maurice.

So I thought, 'Huh, we're getting another blonde girl named Nova riding on horseback with an orangutan in the exact same way. It almost looks like the characters and plot for KOTPOTA could be a reworked version of what a plot could look like for a direct War sequel following a grown up Cornelius with Nova and Maurice and ohhhhhh-'

*puts on tinfoil hat* So my weird train of thought led me to this wacky theory: Mae/Nova is a human that was taken in by Raka as a child, and he has been raising and taking care of her. Just like Maurice did for Nova. She's kinda like Tarzan.

At first I had thought Raka met Mae/Nova because she was separated from her human colony and he was helping her get back home before they ran into Noa.

I also thought that maybe they come from a place where humans and apes already coexist, and I honestly still think either of these is the case tbh, but this part of a recent article made me think otherwise.

The "rabbit-in-headlights" bit makes me doubt she comes from a place where there are intelligent humans. (It's still possible she could be. I'll get to that later). To me this sounds like she's smarter, but still has some "animal" behaviors.

As for why Raka took her in, it can totally just be coincidence that we have another friendly orangutan who adopted a young girl.

Or maybe it became some sort of, ehh, tradition? Him wearing a necklace with Caesar's symbol and talking about how apes and humans used to live side by side makes him sound like a religious person. Maybe somewhere along the line, it became custom for those who follow his faith to "adopt a Nova" to raise and take care of, like Maurice did.

There is a difference, though. Raka could have been taking care of Mae/Nova, but he still sees her as an...well, an animal. A very smart animal that he feels a responsibility towards. I know him viewing her as an animal sounds pretty harsh, but keep in mind that humans have regressed to be like animals at this point.

And there's also this scene where he just....tosses her some food. It's no different from the way humans toss a friendly animal some food, really.

"But why does she seem frightened by the apes at the fireplace if she's been raised by Raka?"

I think she's scared of Noa here.

Orangutans are actually solitary creatures (I googled, lol), so it's very possible that it's just been her and Raka, and any newcomer makes her nervous.

Ok ok ok, so he's a guy who has taken in an animal that shows signs of intelligence and has taken it upon himself to nurture and care for this animal because his personal beliefs tell him that in doing so, he could potentially make the world a better place.

Like Will did with Caesar.

"So she's reverse Caesar." Yeah. That's pretty much what I've been trying to get at with all my rambling. Yay, parallels!

And we know Will cared for Caesar, but he always saw him as an animal. A very smart animal, but an animal nonetheless. He had him on a leash, and as much as he didn't want to, he still took him to the primate shelter. It wasn't Will being cruel, he just treated Caesar the way any human would have treated an animal, no matter how close they are.

Of course, like Caesar, Mae/Nova is gonna go through some changes. She's a young girl growing into adulthood. She'll have "needs and wants," as this article states.

Those needs and wants could be many things. To be regarded as equal. No longer wanting to feel inferior. And if she truly is some lone smart girl among a world of feral humans, she's also gonna feel really really lonely. (Think about it. If she does not come from a colony of smart humans and she truly is the only one, that's tragic. I'd be depressed, man).

So she'll also want friendship and companionship. To have a friend or anyone she can relate with. She'll most likely find this with Noa, since the article says, "...there are far more parallels and commonalities between the two of them than they might have originally imagined."

Okay, one question came to mind when coming up with this theory.

Why is she smarter than other humans? I got a few theories.

Theory 1. She could still be someone who grew up in a colony of intelligent humans, whether it be a colony in an underground bunker or anywhere else. It doesn't matter. But something terrible may have happened, like her colony was killed off, or she was separated from them as a little girl. Then Raka found her and took her in. Like Tarzan!

Theory 2. This one and the third one won't be as satisfying to fans, I assume. But maybe Raka noticed a lone child that was smarter than most, and he decided to take her in and help her intelligence grow.

Theory 3. She started off as an unintelligent feral girl, but being raised by an ape allowed her to slowly gain her intelligence back. I actually like this one. For starters, it's similar to the Planet of the Apes novel from 1963, where one of the astronauts became feral and unintelligent because of spending too much time in a cage with feral humans at a zoo, and Nova actually gained the ability to speak and became intelligent after spending a year or two in space with Ulysse, the protagonist.

Theory 4. She's like Megamind where she was launched into space from an alien planet as a baby while her homeworld burned all around her and she crash landed onto Earth. THERE'S YOUR ASTRONAUT THEORY.

I'm kidding. That was a joke. I know April Fool's was two days ago.

As for her name, we've gotten three so far. Mae, Nova, and Echo. I like to think of her name as a sort of symbol or indicator of her character growth, where I assume she'll gain the ability to speak at the end, or will have grown into herself as a person.

She'll start off as Nova. A common generic name given to all humans, given to her by Raka.

Then Echo. A more unique name given to her by Noa, but still not her own.

Then, finally, Mae. Her true unique name that she was either born with, or she picks out for herself.

Aaaaand I think that's it. I'm done. I know that was long, but I wanted to gather all of my thoughts and theories on Mae/Nova somewhere before I watch the movie in a month. Whatever her story is, I cannot wait to see it unfold. Now it's time for me to SLEEP.

#planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #pota #kotpota #planetoftheapes #kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes #please feel free to pick this theory apart #thats the best way to test if something works #trying to break it as much as you can to expose where the holes are

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midethefangirl · 4 months

Text

i’m weak, so what’s wrong with that (reworked)

🏷️: fade to black, bireena, reference to toxic masculinity, and there was only one bed, touch starved bi han, author wrote this instead of sleeping 🤪💀💀

a/n: as noted in the previous version, this is inspired by @ladybug023 spy!Sareena headcanons. gotta give honour to whom it is due.

I know I said I’d upload this a few weeks back and I apologize for the delay. I was wrapping up my finals and I’ll be graduating this week, thank God! 🥰

enough of me rambling about my life, lol, I found myself rereading the previous version and I found myself cringing and I wanted to rework this. I just hope this turns out to be better than its predecessor.

again, I apologize for the delay and yeah, that is it from me.

tagging: @livingdeadgirly

word count: ~3.5k words

also on AO3 (if you’re like me and you despise reading long text on Tumblr)

“Stay still,” she said firmly, lightly pressing the warm wet cloth on his arm, cleaning up the slight gash on his upper arm.

A slight wince left Bi-Han’s lips, a glare on his face as he stared back at the woman before him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her - her black hair with the white streak tied back to avoid them getting in the way and her face fixed in concentration. She was the reason why they were both here, in the first place - in this little shack in the mountains, hiding from the Tengu.

“You do not command me, woman,” he sneered and her head snapped up to meet him. Her eyes narrowed back at him before she rolled them.

“Maybe you should tend your injuries yourself then,” she gave him a sarcastic smile and almost then he was about to snatch the cloth away from her until she sent him a stare that read ‘are you serious?’

With a huff, he gave in, staying rooted. How can a woman be so infuriating and yet so intriguing? Even more so, how could he be so weak to fall for his protégée?

“We would not be in this situation if you had not chosen to defy me,” he changed the subject and she stared back up at him again.

She looked like she was about to say something but she bit on her full lower lip before turning back her attention to his arm. Almost then, Bi-Han wanted to reach for her head and feel her lower lip with his thumb.

So fucking pathetic and weak.

“We’d have been dead by now if we went with your plans, Bi-Han,” Sareena finally replied. “The Tengu are more advanced than what we had believed and they could have killed us both.”

He quelled the urge to protest even though he knew she was right. They were severely underprepared and lucky to have escaped with only a few injuries.

“We barely escaped with a few wounds, your plans would have our heads on a pike, Grandmaster,” her eyes rolled at his title. Okay, maybe not his title as his father, Zhāofēi still ruled the Lin Kuei.

Yet, he despised how his protégée held his soon-to-be title with contempt. It was a shame he could not punish her for that or even get rid of her - a doing of his father’s meddling. That she was his student was a headache on its own and another machination of his father.

Sareena had walked into the Lin Kuei, defeated a few initiates and managed to win over the hearts of everyone, including his father. For as long as Bi-Han could remember, Zhāofēi was not a man easily swayed by gimmicks and he would know that being the oldest son of the grandmaster.

And yet, all it took was her stepping in to take down her opponents for Zhāofēi to recruit her and place her under his tutelage.

“All done,” she announced finally and he snatched his arm away from her before turning away. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

He did not need to maintain eye contact to know exactly what her facial expression was right now. He could imagine her supple lips pouting and her eyes narrowing at him as she carried that questioning look on her face.

How can anyone be this infuriating and yet pleasing to the eyes?

He could not lie to himself as much as he wanted to deny it, no matter how much. Those feelings he had kept hidden for the past two years of being her master threatened to break through the walls he had carefully built for years.

Bringing her along with him on this mission was a bad idea. Yet, he could not defy the grandmaster, not even if said grandmaster was his own father.

The relationship with his father has always been tense even before Sareena walked her way into the clan but the tension grew even worse the moment his father insisted on him taking her under his tutelage.

It seemed to be that despite the passage of years, the old man would keep on prioritizing outsiders over his own son.

First, it had been that orphan, the guilt of being partly responsible for the deaths of his family had clouded the judgment of an old man. That same guilt had led to him opening his home to Tomas, not just making him a member of the clan responsible for him being an orphan, but also adopting him as one of his sons.

Even a younger Bi-Han in his teenage years could see how fucked up that decision was on Zhāofēi’s part but he knew better than to question his father. Instead, he had distanced himself from Tomas.

Zhāofēi may have brought him in, made him wear the Lin Kuei insignia but Bi-Han had sworn to never acknowledge him as one of them.

It was so laughable how history repeats itself with Zhāofēi forcing another outsider on him and unlike Tomas whom he could keep his distance from, there was no way he could do that with Sareena.

He had tried every method in the book, from being not just literally but also metaphorically cold. He had even made sure his training was as tough as it could be, after all, he was infamous on the Lin Kuei for not holding back.

To his chagrin, Sareena could hold her own against him, although with a few bruises on her body as evidenced by her visits to the medical room.

To make it worse was this tight feeling in his chest that almost had him breathless each time she stepped into the trading room. That and that feeling which threatened to choke him each time he saw Tomas around her.

Tomas might believe he was hiding his feelings but to anyone who had eyes to see, they were so glaringly obvious that a blind man could see them.

As much as he hated to acknowledge the existence of the gray-cladded assassin, Bi-Han knew when to give the honor where it was due and Tomas was a formidable warrior in his own right. The man had been born without powers of his own and came into this clan a whimpering weakling after the old man had brought him in.

That had not stopped Tomas from training extra hard to prove himself, even to the point of using the ancient books and consulting the clan’s elders to acquire his own powers. If that was not dedication in itself.

But hell, was Tomas too obvious with his attraction towards Sareena. At best, Bi-Han could describe him as a pathetic puppy pining after its owner for a grain of attention. It was just annoying and pitiful to see. Like it is pitiful seeing you pant after her as well.

At least, he knew how to keep those feelings buried deep inside. Until now…

It had to do something with this stupid cramped up shack they found themselves in as a temporary source of shelter. He could only pray to some god out there, probably Liu Kang, that he made it out without succumbing to his weakness.

“Bi-Han.”

And there was his kryptonite at the foot of the door, her hand on the handle. She had an eyebrow raised at his earlier distraction. He could already tell that she had some witty remark in her arsenal by the twitch at the corner of her lips.

“Being distracted is not a good look for the future grandmaster.”

And there it was.

He scoffed, looking away from her. The door creaked slightly, immediately alerting him as he turned his attention towards the source of the sound.

“And where do you think you are going?”

“To patrol. I thought it would be best if-.”

“The Tengu would not find us here,” he cut in before looking up at her.

“You are so unbelievable, Bi-Han. Way too confident that the Tengu would not sniff out our location faster than a bloodhound,” she countered, defiant as usual and it grated on his already frayed nerves.

He was already on his feet faster than he could process it, his frame right in front of her.

“Must you always defy me, Sareena? Do you get a kick from this drivel?”

His stance coupled with his gravelly voice would have intimidated a clan member of a less position. But the woman before him did not seem phased by him and had quite the audacity for someone who was supposed to be his protegee.

“I may be your ‘disciple’ but that does not make me a blind follower of yours, Bi-Han. You cannot just assume we are out of the Tengu’s radar because we are in the middle of nowhere,” she shot back and he let out a huff of annoyance.

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right and it made him turn away as he muttered under his breath, “I will keep patrol and you stay here for the meantime.”

“But your injuries-,” she protested but Bi-Han could already see that from afar as he cut in.

“Will be fine, Sareena. Do not waste your time arguing with me,” he added with a warning tone and he watched her features relax as she pushed lightly at him.

He stepped aside, his eyes tracking her movement from where she was to the bed.

“Since you insisted, grandmaster,” she shrugged, taking her seat on the bed which was weirdly comfortable for one in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. “Wake me up when it is my turn to take over patrolling.”

He said nothing, letting out a grunt as he made his way outside. It was the least he could do for now.

What was the mission again? Sareena found herself sighing as she melted into the comfort of the bed she laid on.

As much as she wanted to indulge in its comforting embrace and fall asleep, her mind kept on reminding her of how limited her time was. Quan Chi had to be growing impatient, given the kind of man he was.

Aside from the constant reminder of a certain Outworld sorcerer, there was the fact that this day also had to mark five Earthrealm years of Ashrah leaving the Netherrealm.

Being the closest to Ashrah, Sareena had been the first person the former had revealed her plan of leaving to, even extending the offer for her to escape the Netherrealm with her.

“Do you not want to see realms beyond the fiery skies?”

There were occasions when Sareena pondered on why she had declined. Maybe it was the fear of the unknown that held her back, after all, the Netherrealm was what she knew her whole life.

And there was Quan Chi ruling over the Netherrealm like the tyrant he was. The moment Ashrah had left, he had sent out fellow sisters to assassinate her. Given that none of them returned, it was safe to say that they had met their ends at Ashrah’s Datusha.

It had gotten to the part where the Sisterhood of Shadows dreaded being the ones called on to assassinate Ashrah. Aside from the likelihood of being killed in self-defense, Ashrah was still a sister regardless.

Even if she had made the conscious decision to turn her back on the Sisterhood, even if Kia forbade the rest of them from uttering her name, even if Ashrah was forced to have her sisters die by Datusha’s blade.

Five years had passed and now, Sareena found herself in the same position as she believed Ashrah had been those years ago. It had started so slowly like a seed planted in the ground of her heart and allowed to take root before germinating.

Yet, a lot of things hung in the balance, one of them being that she was a spy. She had infiltrated the Lin Kuei under Quan Chi’s commands, the sorcerer forcing her to choose between this or being ordered to assassinate Ashrah instead.

The sadistic smile that floated on the bastard’s smug face was enough to send chills down her spine. It was no secret that she and Ashrah were the closest and for Quan Chi to use that to blackmail her was a low blow.

Despite that, Sareena valued her life more than anything and had made the choice to infiltrate the Lin Kuei without second thoughts. If it mean not being killed by her own sister, then she had no qualms.

Yet, her conscience kicked right at her heart as the years went by. Initially, she had believed that her mission would be a flight through the Netherrealm but it turned out she had not considered the fact that she would get attached to the newfound family she had come to love in the Lin Kuei.

Despite it being her first day after getting initiated into the clan, Tomas had been the first to reach out to her. Then, Cyrax who was also known as Bontle Mohutsiwa had extended a hand of friendship towards her.

Coming from a dog-eat-dog world where the only person she had trusted on an intimate level was Ashrah, encountering these people posed a whiplash to her - a cultural shock.

She had found a new home which she knew would not last long. Not when they would eventually find out the truth of why she was in this clan. She dreaded just the thought of it, the thought of betraying them and the thought of proving Bi-Han’s suspicions right.

It was no secret that he looked down at her with disdain, the way he manhandled her like she was some obstacle to be eliminated.

Sareena had believed that it was understandable why he hated her. Tomas was also in the same boat as she was - they were both outsiders but in comparison, Tomas seemed to fare better as the worst he could get from Bi-Han was a cold silent treatment.

Maybe his disdain for her was not unfounded, she was a spy after all, although he did not know it yet. The truth always had its way of coming out.

The sound of light footsteps was enough to snap her out of reverie, her back almost against the wall as soon as Bi-Han walked in. The scowl on his face almost melted off as he shut the door behind him.

Wasting no time, Sareena’s feet were on the floor as she got down the bed when his raspy voice drew her attention.

“Just where do you think you are going?”

She paused, her eyes staring back at him in confusion.

“It is my turn to patrol, I believe so?” Her tone dropped with a hint of sarcasm as she asked, goosebumps forming on her arm as the temperature of the room dropped down a few degrees Celsius, her sign that that had not gone unnoticed.

“You’d be wasting your time, the coast is clear,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Still, I-.”

“Were you destined to be a pain in my ass?” He argued, his pointer pointing straight at her and Sareena could feel her blood boiling as she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Were you destined to always be…this?!” She shot back at him.

No doubt, he had taken an offence to that as his nostrils flared in fury, “And what is that supposed to mean, Sareena?”

Deciding that this was now or never, she squared her shoulders, also taking a dominant stance as she stared right back at him.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

All the fight in him seemed to have left his body at that question, his brows furrowed at that question. He had expected any kind of question but that.

Why did he hate her? Did he even hate her anymore at this point? He scoffed, turning away from her. Maybe he did hate her.

He hated her for how weak she made him; he hated her for how she drove him to the point of insanity. He hated her for how she dominated his every sleeping and waking thoughts.

There’s a thin line between love and hate, someone had once said and Bi-Han had sneered at that quote, pondering on the nonsensical drivel of it all. Yet, he found himself an embodiment of that very quote.

This was a bad idea. Every part of this, from his father placing Sareena under his tutelage to the old man asking that he took her with him on this mission.

One, she had openly defied him in front of an enemy clan - the Tengu and fair enough, she was right to do so but that had bruised his ego in a way. His healing injuries throbbed as a reminder of that.

Two, he had made the error of thinking he could control himself around her and not succumb to his weakness. The fact that they were both in this shack with tensions running high and thickening the air just drove his point home.

“You know what I think of you?” Her voice broke through his thoughts and he slightly turned his head towards her. He wanted to shut her up, telling her he couldn’t care less what she thought of him but he stayed rooted anyway. “I think you are a coward.”

And there it was, his fists clenching in fury.

“You like me,” she continued and his heart rate accelerated like that of a man on adrenaline rush. “You think you hate me so you can push me away.”

She knew.

“Don’t resort to those delusional thoughts to make yourself feel better,” he sneered, turning to fully face her.

“I’ve seen weaker men fight for their love, grandmaster. Men who would burn the world for the ones they love. You, on the other hand, not even the Tengu-,” she pressed on and that was it from him as the last bit of control snapped like a delicate thread holding the two parts of a rope together.

She let out a yelp as his hand gripped her by the neck, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in an aggressive kiss.

For the first time, Bi-Han felt the tension flee his body, his hand leaving her neck now as the initial aggression was toned down for something else.

A groan escaped him the moment he felt Sareena’s hand roaming his chest and the other moving to let his dark hair down. She had taken over, her lips moving against his until he felt himself pushed down on the bed.

That was new and his clouded mind was the reason why he stared in confusion, his body feeling strangely warm despite the cryomancy that ran through his veins.

His eyes made contact with Sareena’s, her face looking more serene than his with a smirk on her lips. The only thing betraying her seemingly calm composure was the slight heaving of her chest as she straddled him.

“Lost for words, grandmaster?” She cooed, her use of his title not posing a source of aggravation to him for the first time.

He was indeed lost for words, panting like he had just ran a thousand miles. He definitely looked pathetic in her eyes yet that did not bother him a bit.

Her hand crept up to his neck and the irony was almost laughable at this point considering he had first kissed her with a neck grip in a kind of power move.

Her lips met his again, her hips grinding against his and he could already feel his length hardening just from that.

She pulled away from him, a short chuckle bubbling from her throat.

“I have barely touched you, Bi-Han,” she whispered, her hand now moving down to his crotch and his breath hitched as his body shuddered. She hesitated, staring at him, “Do you want this?”

He wanted to growl out in frustration, why was she asking him? He had kissed her first, the fact that she was touching him should be enough proof of his consent. Besides, he could not trust his words.

“Just- fuck, yes,” he groaned. It was his first time doing something like this, another side effect of him focusing on his being the next-in-line.

At least, his inexperience did not seem to drive Sareena away as her hand was back where he needed it to be.

“First time?”

There was a teasing glint in her dark eyes and if not for the heady lust which clouded his mind, he’d have glared at her. Maybe he did because she teased him even more with a gentle squeeze which made his breath hitch.

“I’ll be gentle, if that is assuring,” Sareena stared down at him, her hands leaving him momentarily as she reached to pull off her clothes.

At that moment, Bi-Han felt like a teenager all over again. The thrill of the mission always had the blood rushing through his vessels but this was an odd but not unwelcome feeling that had him going through what might as well be an adrenaline rush.

Maybe he could give in to his weakness for this one time.

a/n: ...so, how did that go? I hope to also rework out of control soon, hopefully, that will not take three weeks for me to do that (let us just hope) and if you want to be on my tagging list, please, let me know. and as usual, constructive criticism is welcome and thanks again for reading. 😄❤️

#bireena #bi han #sareena #i’m weak so what’s wrong with that #bi han x sareena #mortal kombat fan fiction #mortal kombat 1

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blooming-violets · 5 months

Note

Shit I forgot to put this in my rb but I wanted to ask what do you think would happen to reader if Peter actually went through with it? I'd like to be a but optimistic and say she surely but slowly recovers from it all but I'm not so sure. How would Aunt May react to that? Becoming a widow then a grieving mother in the span of a few years? Sorry I don't mean to be pushy but like I said I loved the way you beautifully crafted this story from an ask

Trigger Warnings!!!!: it's all about suicide and talking about it and discussing it, it is not something everyone feels comfortable reading or conversing about so please don't continue if it is too upsetting for you, Peter Parker kills himself and I write about it, Gwen's death ptsd is explored and he sees her as a rotting corpse version of herself who talks to him before he dies, the grief of losing someone you love to suicide is also talked about, it's all depressing but if you love depressing angst shit then come on over and join in (not join in on the killing yourself part jfc I mean joining in on the talking about this story) READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION only you know what you are capable of handling when you read. I can't help you any further than explaining the warnings.

Previous posts where this is all discussed:

[first part] [second part] and I rewrite this drabble from two years ago to fit this story but you can read the original here if you feel like it (it ends with less death that this one).

One of my darker, more angsty headcanons is that Peter kills himself by throwing himself off the same clock tower Gwen died in. It takes a few years for it to get rebuilt back to it's former glory. Peter patiently waits those years until it's finally finished. Almost a quiet, stoic sort of patience. A little scary with how composed he is. Like not given any indication of his plans. He wears a beautifully composed mask until the day it happens because he is so sure in his plans and doesn't want a single person to sway him from them. He's stubborn and set in his ways and this is what he feels he needs to do. This headcanon doesn't exactly fit into the story I wrote as that version of Peter is much more unhinged in his actions, and I don't think clocktower Peter could ever let himself get into a relationship because he's too obsessed with Gwen still and knows he's going to die so he's not going to bring anyone else into that mess, but it's just a little random headcanon I always had so I thought I would share since this is suicide talking hour. Maybe I can rework it a bit to fit with this story better.

Let's say unhinged Peter (as I'm calling him now lol) does let the ghosts win. What happens to our Reader character would entirely depend on when in the relationship he went through with it. If she's too far gone and too far down the hole after Peter, then I sort of fear for her future. Unless she has someone really important in her life who would help her, I think she would just keep sinking until she ended up back on that ledge, except this time there's no Peter to catch her. And I personally don't think she has anyone that close to her, especially after mentioning that all her friends stopped texting her or asking her to hang out. They all kind of gave up on her so, when she's at her lowest, I really don't think anyone would be the wiser due to the isolation they both put themselves in.

I want to rewrite something I wrote two years ago that either wasn't that great and people didn't like or it just slipped under the radar (because it wasn't about an x reader or love or anything, it was just Peter's ptsd taking over and sometimes people don't give a shit about a fic if it isn't tagged with x reader). It fits really well in this new story to help show what could go on in Peter's head with how terribly Gwen still sticks with him and what exactly it is he's "seeing" that would push him to throwing himself off a building.

Cut to me pausing to frantically google if Peter Parker could survive a fall off a building or if his super powers make him strong enough to withstand it...

Okay maybe falling isn't the best plan of action but I really like (like isn't the right word but I'm going with it) that idea of him mimicking Gwen's death because he's so haunted by it. He would want to feel what she felt. He would want to go the same way. So for the sake of this story, he's can't withstand that fall.

“Leave me alone!” Peter shouted into the dark shadows of the clock tower. He sat huddled against the newly built glass wall that domed up over his head. The bright, white light of the moon hung in the sky above him and casted wavering shadows around him to mess with his vision. The turning of grinding gears below him haunted his memories of the night Gwen died. Eight years and she still haunted him every time he dared to fall asleep.

He couldn't take it anymore. His head was a mess. His thoughts were spinning.

He was just so tired.

He had fallen asleep here accidentally. Maybe if he went to the source of the problem, she would disappear. It was a stupid plan

It only made her stronger. This was where his ghost of her was most alive.

Maybe that's why he really showed up. He wanted to see her. He wanted to finally confront his demons. She was calling to him and he had to answer.

He had slipped a crushed up sleeping pill into his girlfriends water during dinner. He carried her bed, tucked her in, and kissed her soft and gently. She didn't need to see this. This wasn't for her. She needed to be free of him. He needed to let her go before it was too late. She wouldn't understand at first but, maybe, with time...

What had time ever done for him except make Gwen stronger?

He slipped an envelope onto the bedside table beside her. One for her. One for May. He wasn't sure if he would make it home this time. His mind could still change. He could still make it back before she woke up.

But they were.

Just in case.

He couldn't leave them with nothing.

She was here now. Ready to haunt him like usual. Ready to take over and ruin him. Night after night. Day after day. She was always there. Gwen never left. She walked beside him through it all.

Tonight, she was angry. Furious. This was where he had let her die. Of course, she would be the most powerful here.

He no longer had his girlfriend to help soften Gwen's blows. There was no one to intervene. Only him and Gwen. Stuck in a staring contest. Sizing each other up.

The sunken in face of his dead lover glared back at him from just below his edge of his of his perch, trembling from the sight under him. She was standing on top of a giant gear, watching him, judging him. A large smile grew across her pale, bluing lips. It was too wide. Too big for her face. Her teeth looked rotten and jagged inside of her mouth. A trickle of blood slowly trailed out of her nostril.

“What’s the matter, Peter?” She taunted. Her sickly voice swirled around his head like a swarm of mosquitos. “Did you miss me? Is that why you came here? To see me clearly again? Well, here I am. Look at me. Dead. Putrefied. All for you. Aren't I beautiful? This is what you've done to me.”

A loud sob shuddered through his chest and ripped out his throat. He brought up a hand to wipe away the snot flowing freely out his nose. This nightmare was too familiar. He knew this too well. He didn't feel like he was dreaming this time. He never did.

If it wasn't a dream then his mind was truly gone. Distinguishing between reality and fiction was something he no longer had control over.

This was as real to him as anything.

“Please, Gwen. Please,” he pleaded with her. “Go away. I can’t do this again. Please. You have to let me go."

She tutted her tongue in annoyance and shook her head with disbelief, “Oh, Peter. I have to let you go? Do you think I want to be here?” She became climbing up the gears and the scaffolding towards him. She looked more like himself as she climbed, enhanced and spider-like, taking the movements straight out his brain until she was perching on the ledge beside him. “Do you think this fun for me?”

Peter whimpered in response. His tears were blurring his vision but he was afraid to wipe them away. He was terrified of what might happen if he took his eyes off of her, like watching a snake in the grass, it's better if you can see it in your sights instead of letting it hide and able to strike.

Gwen walked with slow, purposeful steps towards him until she stood directly over him as he cowered backwards on all fours. Under the pale moonlight hanging above them, her skin turned yellow, painted with purpling hues and blacks, and rotting away around her cheekbones to show parts of red, bleeding muscle under the pulled back skin. Her, once vibrant, blonde hair now hung in patchy strands from her head. Most of her hair had fallen out leaving her balding and sickly. When she smiled, browning, broken teeth shone back at him, they hung lose in her jaw, rattling around when she spoke.

She was a walking, decaying corpse sent to haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

“Look at what you’ve done to me!” Her shrill voice echoed off the glass walls. She spun around to show him the back of her head. Her skull was caved in. Parts of brain matter clung to her hair and blood stained what was left of the blonde a deep red. She turned back to face him, leaning in close so she was mere inches away. He could smell the heavy scent of freshly dug dirt and wet grass clinging to her rotting finger nails like she had clawed her way straight out of the ground to find him.

She snarled, “You did this, Peter! This is your fault!”

Peter flinched and scrambled backwards to get away from her, “No! Please, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn't know...I didn't know...I thought I could catch you. I thought I could save you. I'm sorry. Please, Gwen. Please. I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change the fact that I’m dead,” she smirked, eyes darkening, enjoying his torment. She sunk down to her hands and knees to crawl over him, pressing her skeletal body against him, until he was laying flat against the ground with no where else to go.

"Look at me," she whispered into his ear. “I was going to go Oxford. I was going to be a scientist. I was going to change the world. The only way I can change the world now is by letting the worms feast through my flesh until there is nothing left. Something tasty for the bugs. That's all I am now.”

Peter whimpered, turning his head away from her and flinching into himself.

He heard her sniffle like she was about to start crying. He hated hearing her cry.

"Don't you love me anymore, Peter?" She whined. "Don't you care about me? Why did you find someone else? Why did you forget me so quickly? I loved you so much and you left me for the worms. Only they kiss my skin now."

His heart sank and guilt flooded him. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, blinking up at her. For a moment, she looked just like he remembered. Beautiful. Whole. Healthy. Alive.

Peter gave a shuddered, shaky breath, whispering in awe, "Gwen."

She beamed down at him. There were no rotting teeth, no blood, her hair was full and luscious. She was glowing under golden light with happy tears in her eyes like his memory of her on top of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Kiss me," she whispered against his lips. "Like you used to."

Peter's eyes slipped close. His heart ached.

"I can't," he mumbled back. "I love someone else now. I love her like I loved you. She..."

He needed to get back to her. She needed him. He needed her. He should have never left her tonight. He had to leave.

A wailing growl shot ice through his veins as Gwen let out a shriek of pain as if she had read his mind. She was back to her decaying corpse. The sight terrified him.

"You will not leave me! I won't let you! You're mine, Peter! Mine!"

Peter kicked up his feet to shove her off of him. He scrambled backwards away from the haunting vision.

"I can't, Gwen," he pleaded. "I can't be with you anymore."

He frantically shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, in an attempt to make her disappear. Usually by now, his girlfriend would hear him screaming. She'd be here to block Gwen from his sights. She'd be there to force her away until he was safe.

Tonight, there was no one but him.

"This isn't real," he muttered to himself. "She's not really here. She's dead. She's buried underground. Locked in a coffin. This isn't real. When I open my eyes, she'll be gone."

He peaked an eye open. A sense of relief washed over him. He was alone in the clock tower. There was no one here but him.

He could still go home. He could still make it back to her before she woke up and rid her bed side of those letters.

She would never have to know.

Peter took a deep breath, half way through exhaling it when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Gwen's decomposing face poked into his peripheral vision as she whispered menacingly in his ear, "Boo."

He screamed, jumping away, to the sound of her taunting laughter.

"I'm still here, Peter!" She cackled. "You can't get rid of me that easily! I am always going to be here. I am always going to follow you. I will never let you go." Her voice softened. Almost sweet. Sad. Longing. "Because I'm your path, Peter. I am always going to be your path. Follow me everywhere just like you promised. I want you to follow me. I need you..."

She reached out her hand for him to take. The skin had rotted away around the tips of her fingers leaving nothing by bones reaching for him.

This wasn't his Gwen. His Gwen was dead. She was buried in the ground surrounded by fresh flowers. The thing in front of him was nothing but a product of his own twisted mind. Birthed from his guilt and excruciating pain. A monster of his own creation.

"I can't," he choked out through his tears. "Someone else needs me now. I'm sorry. I love you. I will always love you. But I can't follow you. Not yet."

Anger flashed over her darkened, bloodshot eyes, “No! You promised you’d follow me anywhere. Follow me to the grave, you liar!”

Peter cringed at her harsh words. Tears blurring his vision. He had promised.

"Gwen, please," he begged. "Let me go."

Her face softened. He watched her grow back into old self again. Her rich purple dress. Lace tights. Knee high boots. Pale blue jacket. All highlighting her perfectly beautiful face. Large, bright green eyes without a blonde hair out of place. Always so put together. Always nothing less than perfection.

"You want me to go?" She asked, turning around slowly for her to take him in. There was no crack in the back of her skull. No blood.

His breath caught in his throat. He tried to reach out for her, to draw her closer against him, but she stepped away. Just out of his reach.

"You want me to go so I'll go." She whispered. "But you'll have to watch. Again and again and again. You'll have to listen to the sound of my skull cracking against the pavement. Hear my spine snap as your web jerks me upwards. Smell my blood pouring from my open, split open head." A trickle of red blood started to leak out her nose as her eyes closed. "Only you can make it all stop. Only you can make me go away. You know exactly how to do it, Peter. All you have to do is follow me. Just like you promised. Follow me and it will all end."

He blinked through his tears, taking a slow step towards her.

"Follow you," he muttered in a trance like state. "I'll follow you anywhere you go. You're my path. I'll write my love for you across the Brooklyn Bridge so everyone in New York can see it."

She smiled, soft and sweet, "Follow me. Don't leave me alone. Stay with me, Peter. Forever."

"Forever..."

Her arms out stretched to her sides and she leaned back, stepping off the ledge and sinking out of sight past the giant gears, hurdling straight towards her death.

"No!" He shouted.

Without thinking, without caring, Peter leapt after her. He had done this move so many times in his nightmares. He had obsessively walked through every single second of her death. Again and again just like she said. He knew it better than he knew himself.

He jumped on instinct. He leapt after her like he always did.

Keeping his promise. Following her down any path she took.

I know you asked how May and Reader would respond to such a thing afterwards but that's like one topic that's just a little too hard for me to write about. I know it's weird that I can talk about Peter throwing himself to his death and I can write about depression and suicidal ideation and self harm and ptsd and guilt and feelings of worthlessness but writing about someone like May (who I relate far too much to my own mother) finding her boy dead is just a hair too much for my heart to take haha. I was originally going to write a scene of his funeral but then I was like nah too much for even me. I can't watch May cry over her dead kid.

I will say that he would be buried next to his parents under the same gravestone which sits besides Ben's. It's a few rows down from Gwen so Peter can always be near her.

I don't even think I actually answered your original ask but I got carried away with Peter in the clock tower!

Also May puts matching flowers on both Peter's and Gwen's graves every time she visits. hahahaha i gotta stop writing fuck me

#andrew garfield #tasm #peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm fic #peter parker fic #tasm angst #peter parker angst

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mumms-the-word · 5 months

Text

A Little Boat Voyage

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Immediately after defeating Cazador and stopping Astarion from ascending, Gale and Dani need to discuss Gale's own ambitions. She agrees to a little voyage on the Outer Planes to hear what he has to say, preparing to fight him about his plans. ao3 link Tags: Angst, fluff, teeny tiny bit of implied smut, mostly angst A/N: This is a rewrite of the Act 3 romance scene that reworks a lot of the potential dialogue for that scene to fit what I actually think would have happened for Dani and Gale. I combed through the datamined file for all the dialogue that Gale and Tav could say, depending on all the possible situations for this scene, and stitched together a lot of game dialogue with Dani's own convictions about Gale's plans. So in my head, this is canon for them lol

Astarion’s words echoed in Dani’s head as she left his side in the group’s Elfsong Tavern suite. He was sitting by the window, looking out onto the moonlit streets below, contemplating the aftermath of his decision to slay Cazador rather than ascend, trying to process and make sense of it. She had gone over to speak quietly with him, knowing he needed her more than Gale did in this moment, and in the midst of the conversation, he had looked up at her with a kind of uncertain awe mixed with tired gratitude.

“You believed in me,” he’d said. “Believed I was enough just the way I am.”

There was more that was said between them, mentions of newfound freedom, new futures, more words of gratitude. But for some reason, those words stuck with her. Enough, he’d said. As if it were a novel concept to him.

She could relate. There were days when she never felt like she was enough, for some person or some challenge or another.

She paused to lean against one of the columns in the room, her eyes unconsciously searching for Gale. She found him sitting in an armchair by the fire at the center of the suite, staring into the flames. He’d been wanting to speak to her all day, but between all the drama of that morning and the difficulty of getting to Cazador and battling him, she’d almost forgotten about it. Now, she was almost too worn down to approach him. It would be all too easy to just go to bed and tell him that whatever he had to say could wait until morning.

But even she wasn’t that heartless. She sighed to herself and moved around to the lowered center area of the suite, approaching him from behind. He looked up as she stopped next to his chair.

“Gale,” she said coolly, one hand on her hip.

“Ah.” He gave a kind of grimace, as though he were wincing yet trying to twist it into a sheepish smile at the same time. “You’re still talking to me then?”

Dani pursed her lips and crossed her arms, waiting for him. She had no idea where this conversation was supposed to go, and part of her didn’t want to make this easy for him. He rubbed the back of neck, self-conscious.

“I suppose you have questions…related to a certain book we read together,” he said. She arched an eyebrow and he winced. “Well. That I read,” he amended. “And I do mean to discuss it but…”

He trailed off, his eyes wandering over to where Astarion still sat near the window, staring pensively out through the glass. “You’ve given me quite a lot to think about today.”

She sighed softly through her nose. She wanted to be angry. But honestly, she was just tired.

They’d started the morning off with a visit to Sorcerous Sundries, thinking it would be a relatively innocent visit. But her anger had been tested at the sight of poor Rolan, beaten and bruised by Lorroakan, and her fears kindled by the hunger in Gale’s eyes once they had found the Annals of Karsus. Then Gale had sparked her anger again, boasting to Lorroakan about his plans for the Crown—none of which he had disclosed to Dani at all—so Dani had retaliated by petulantly revealing his plans to Elminster when the old wizard had popped up unexpectedly outside the shop. Then there was her and Gale’s argument in the street, all before it was even noontime.

That would have been enough for the day, except that they had spent the afternoon and evening infiltrating Cazador’s mansion to stop his ritual. That experience had been draining for everyone and the resulting conclusion of the events was bittersweet at best. Dani had stopped one of her best friends from giving in to his dark ambitions, but she still had her work cut out for her when it came to her own lover’s ambitions.

She just wished everyone around her would stop being so damned power hungry. Was it so wrong to wish for nothing more than a warm home and for one’s friends and family to be safe and comfortable? She knew she could be greedy too, but her greed didn’t test the limits of reality or threaten thousands of lives all at once. It just emptied a few pockets. Maybe a few bank vaults.

At her silence, Gale shifted uncomfortably in his seat before at last giving a soft sigh of his own. “In truth, I wouldn’t blame you for giving me a wide berth. I thought the orb’s ever-present censure had tamed my wilder ambition, but that wasn’t the case. Obviously, as evidenced by all that I said and did today.” He shook his head. “There isn’t anything I can say that would excuse my reprehensible behavior. I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips together this time, wavering between wanting to stay irritated and wanting to say that there was nothing to forgive and move on. But there were concerns she still had, questions he had yet to answer. She didn’t know where to start and so, after a moment, she simply pulled another chair over to the fire, near him, and sat down, watching the flames in silence. It took her another moment to finally put to words what she wanted to say.

“I’m not mad anymore about anything that happened today,” she said quietly. “I’m just…scared.”

“Scared?”

“Of losing you. To the orb. To Mystra. To your own ambition…” She shook her head, unable to look at him. She didn’t want to explain all of her fears right now. Some of them felt utterly stupid.

She couldn’t deny that she loved Gale, ambitions and all. What else could it be but love that kept her at his side? She’d abandoned relationships for far less in the past. No, she was certain with her entire being that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. But this path of godhood that he kept hinting at…if he was determined to follow it, it was a path she couldn’t take with him. She just wasn’t interested in abandoning this chaotic, colorful world just yet. Not for the Fugue Plane, not for an illithid life, not for godhood, not for anything.

But if she wouldn’t follow him…what then? The thought of leaving him or of him leaving her threatened to break her heart. She felt as though she’d never recover.

But she couldn’t say all that to him now. It felt petty and selfish to admit that the only reason she didn’t want him to become more powerful was because she was scared he’d leave her behind. She was petty and selfish, but Gale inspired goodness in her. It was ironic, truly. The very qualities that had inspired her to become a better person were the same qualities that he would give up if he continued to pursue the path of godhood for the “betterment of all,” as he’d boasted to Lorroakan that morning.

But what did she know, she thought bitterly to herself. She had never intimately known a god nor harbored ambition enough to actively plot to dethrone one.

Still…if she could at all sway him…

“Listen,” she said, eyes still on the fire. “I believe you’re capable of so many great things, Gale. I believe in you. Always have, always will. But when it comes to this plan with the crown…”

“All I am asking is that you consider it,” he said.

She made a helpless gesture with one hand. “I don’t even know how I could. How can I respond to something so…immense? It’s beyond comprehension. I want to understand, but I don’t.”

He was quiet for a moment before chuckling softly and shaking his head. “I don’t think I deserve you at times.”

“Gale,” Dani said softly, his name almost a resigned sigh as she said it. She didn’t want to hear this again. But Gale held up a hand.

“Please. Let me finish.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, before taking a deep breath. “I watched how you handled the events with Cazador and Astarion today. You showed nothing but compassion and courage. Your heart bled for the victims in their cages. You sought a way to save as many people as you could, despite impossible odds. And you didn’t allow Astarion’s desperation or impassioned speeches to sway you or change your mind.”

“I didn’t want to lose one of my best friends,” she said. “If Astarion had ascended…he wouldn’t be Astarion anymore.”

“I know. Yet it could have been so easy to give in. To let him have his way, simply because you are his friend. But you didn’t. You appealed to a nobler part of him, risking your friendship to keep him from changing. From transforming into something more. Something sinister.” Gale paused again, glancing back at Astarion across the room. His expression softened into a thoughtful, yet sorrowful look. “I can’t help but wonder. Do you see the same kind of choice when you look at me?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence was answer enough. She looked back at the flames, watching them crackle and spark, letting them fill the silence.

“I hope that isn’t your final judgment of me,” he said. “I hope that you can give me another chance to earn your faith. I want you to continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who’s kept you company thus far.”

“Gale, stop,” she said, finally turning to face him fully, twisting in her chair. “Stop calling yourself a poor excuse for a man. That isn’t what I think of you. I know I get frustrated with you, but it’s because I see so much good in you.” She reached for his hand and enveloped it in both of her own. “I don’t want to lose you to the Crown any more than I wanted to lose Astarion to Cazador’s power. You mean everything to me, Gale. Worth more even than music and magic.”

“You won’t lose me,” Gale said, tightening his hold on her hand. “If anything, you’ll gain so much more for being with me. Please. Let me show you.”

“Gale—”

“Even if a permanent place in the heavens isn’t for us, at least allow me a chance to show you what it would be like. Indulge me. Close your eyes. Allow me to take you on a little boat voyage.”

She frowned, wanting to resist. But she could tell this was important to him. She breathed a small sigh and closed her eyes, keeping one hand in his.

She heard him murmur a spell and felt the aura of magic shift around her, the warmth of the Elfsong Tavern room giving way to much cooler air. Her skin tingled all over with the touch of magic, while Gale’s hand remained solid and warm in her own.

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see. But don’t be alarmed—I’m here with you.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Now…open your eyes.”

When she opened her eyes, she found herself seated in a glowing blue boat with Gale sitting across from her. All around them, the sky, the space below, all of it was filled with scattered stars and clouds of purple, pink, and blue stardust. The galaxies and starfields stretched on infinitely around them, swirling peacefully in silence. Their boat drifted easily along a current of shimmering magic and when she lifted her free hand over the edge of the boat, her fingers caused tiny motes of starlight to drift and float through the air.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Gale said, looking around them. “The Outer Planes are a place of profound, sometimes overwhelming possibility.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She gazed out over the infinite expanse, waiting to feel that reeling, terrifying sensation of being suspended over a void, but it didn’t come. She was safe in Gale’s little boat, his hold on her hand grounding her and keeping her steady.

“The home of the gods,” he continued. “Where they observe us from afar. Where they make play-things of us. Such power…infinite possibilities…how could I not crave this?”

She fell silent, focusing instead on the specks of starlight that fanned out behind her fingers, watching them dance briefly in the atmosphere and fade. He said it so simply, as though it were natural to crave such wondrous power. And maybe it was. Maybe she was the fool for limiting her desires to the Material Plane.

Not for the first time, she burned with jealousy toward Mystra and hated all that she had gifted Gale. All that she had made Gale capable of. How could a mere bard compare to a goddess who allowed him to tap into the mysteries of magic itself? And even now, with Gale hardly interested in reconciling with the goddess, who was she compared to all the power of the crown? Who was she compared to all this?

Gale could have this again. This and more. And she, with her small dreams and her fragile love, a love that would only last a mortal lifetime…she would fade into obscurity. Even if she managed to secure a legacy for her name, her body would rot in its grave and her soul would wander the Fugue Plane for an eternity until some god took pity on her and accepted her into their domain.

Perhaps if Gale became a god, he would be the one to take pity. She’d dwell forever in his domain of stars as one among a million other souls. One more copper in a vast bank, utterly forgotten by him, yet unable to escape him. The thought churned her gut and threatened to make her sick.

She swallowed, half-preparing herself for the worst outcomes for the rest of this conversation. “Is this really, truly what you want? To ascend? To claim godhood?”

“No, not like that,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to join them, I want to better them—with you at my side, willing and wholehearted. Together we could become better than gods. We could have all of a god’s power with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart. I can think of no better candidate for redefining godhood than you.”

“I don’t want godhood,” she said. “I know you think it sounds insane that I don’t, and maybe it is, but…” She shook her head. “I’ve read too many stories, too many tragic ballads about what happens to mortals who ascend to godhood. They change, Gale. And they leave the ones they love behind.”

Gale sat back, a little surprised. “Is that what you think I intend to do to you?”

“Not immediately. But who knows how you would change once all that power was coursing through you. You saw how Cazador was—you saw how hungry Astarion was to claim that power. You know it would have changed him. Think how much more godhood would change you.”

“But it wouldn’t be true godhood,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand. “The power of gods would be at our fingertips, yes, but we could be—we could find a way to—”

“Stop with the bullshit,” Dani snapped, snatching her hand from his. “You can’t even articulate it because there’s nothing else to call it. You want to use the power of the crown to become a god. That kind of power corrupts, Gale. And if that’s what you want then—then—“

Her throat tightened suddenly with the threat of tears and she looked away, struggling to compose herself. She hated crying, especially here, where there was nowhere to hide, but there was no stopping the emotions building up inside her. She hid her face briefly behind her hand, but it was no use. The wide expansive of pink and purple starlight winked back at her and illuminated the flood of tears that welled up in her eyes.

Gale reached for her hands again. “Dani, I—”

She shook off his touch. “Don’t. I can’t—I can’t let you do this,” she said, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please. I know what you’d become and it would be nothing like the man you are now. And no matter how you would try to justify things or convince me to join you, I could never bring myself to abandon my family like that. Never. So in the end you would leave me behind, because nothing about me is enough to convince you to stay. So you’d leave, I know you would, because that’s how power works. It corrupts, it—“ She was rambling now, not making sense, her words a tangle on her tongue.

“Dani, please,” he begged, getting on his knees on the floor of the boat, taking both of her hands in his. “None of that is going to happen.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “Look me in the eye and swear to me that the moment your humanity is stripped away in your ascension that you won’t forget tiny, insignificant, mortal me, the lover you’re leaving behind, the moment I refused to ascend with you.”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to confirm her fears. She snatched her hands from his again and used the heels of her palms to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Gods, I hate you,” she mumbled, but it was a complete lie. The fact was she loved him too much. Desired him too selfishly to let him reach for godly power. She swallowed and amended her statement. “Not you. This. I hate this. Sorry.”

It was his turn to be silent in the face of her confessions and her tears. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and breathed softly through her nose until at last she felt calm enough to speak. Then she took a shaky breath and reached out to cradle his face in her hands.

“Please, Gale,” she said quietly. “Don’t do this. I don’t need the stars. I don’t need eternity. I just want you. For all that you are right now. I love you for the man that you are, not the god you’d pretend to be.”

He stared up at her, stricken but amazed, his hands resting on her knees. There was a faint glimmer in his eyes that could either be tears or the reflection of the stars around them, but when he blinked the glimmer was gone.

“You…you would really prefer me as I am?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said. There was no room for doubt in her heart, nor any in her words. “You’re already everything I need you to be and more. Just…please. Let me be enough for you. Let me find a way.”

“Oh Dani,” he breathed. He rose to one knee and slipped one hand behind her head, guiding her down into a deep kiss that stole her breath and made her a little dizzy. She clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying to bring him closer and steady herself at the same time, trying to convey all the desperate longing and fear she couldn’t put into words silently through their kiss.

He pulled away, breathless, cradling her cheek in his palm. “I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. Or that the only way forward was to challenge her. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for, here, on mortal soil. With you, I forget my goddess. With you, I want to live. With you…I even forget my greater ambitions. You put the very stars to shame, Dani.”

She felt her breath hitch as her eyes widened slightly. Of all the things she was expecting to hear him say, those words were not it. She searched his face for signs that he’d changed his mind, and found him staring back at her earnestly, dark eyes full of love and longing. For the first time that day, she dared herself to hope, just a little.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “And I could never leave you behind. Godly power, I can live without, but you? You’re everything.”

She stared, half-disbelieving, but his gaze was sincere and warm and so full of love she couldn’t help but be convinced. She curled her fingers around his wrist, not sure what to say next, but he merely smiled, grateful and tender, and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

He guided her off the seat of the boat down onto the floorboards, dismissing the benches with an idle wave of his hand to make room for them to lay down at the bottom of the boat. There he kissed her, breathing her in as naturally as if she were air, and she lost herself in his warm touch. The galaxies above swirled dream-like and slow overhead as their fingers found each others’ buttons and laces, their clothes slipping off with practiced ease, until both lay bare beneath the infinite sky, her pale blue skin tinged a faint shade of lavender by the light of the pink-purple stardust.

She combed her fingers through his hair as he kissed all over her, sighing and arching her back as he worshipped her body more than he’d ever done before, as if he were making up for a litany of mistakes. She could scarcely think straight yet she tried to encourage him with her words, breathing out her love and pleasure in half-lucid lyric fragments and shaky swears alike. He lavished love on her with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue, his hands, until at last he joined their bodies together and she unraveled. Every tangled thought and emotion unwound itself as pleasure coursed through her veins until they were both left spent, lying on the floor of the softly glowing boat, and she was left with nothing but her love for him and a dazed sense of amazement that here, amid the infinite expanse of stars and magic, he had chosen her.

Some time later, as they lay gazing up at the stars, with Gale fingers threading idly through her long, loose hair, he turned and brushed a kiss against her head. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said quietly. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about…well.”

She wrapped her arms more tightly around him. “I love you, Gale. I don’t want to lose you to anything. Not even this. As pretty as it is. You’ll have to forgive me for being so selfish with you.”

He chuckled, kissing her hair again. “There’s nothing at all to forgive, my love. Be selfish with me.”

They contemplated the stars and auroras that surrounded their little boat, words lost between them for a moment, until at last Gale, trailing gentle fingers down her arm, began to speak again softly.

“I conjured this illusion often during my confinement in Waterdeep,” he said. “An escape for the mind, where there was none for the body. It was easier to stare at the celestial abyss than recognize the emptiness within myself. Easier to pretend my destiny lay among such stars, than work to salvage a life on solid ground.”

He turned his head and she lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze again, her heart aching for him. She could all too easily imagine him locked in his tower, conjuring images of these galaxies and planes, desperate to be outside the walls that enclosed him for a year. Longing to be back among infinite beauty, rather than confined and seemingly trapped in a small set of rooms on the mundane Material Plane. She had thought the illusion he had conjured of his home in Waterdeep was charming and wonderful…but she could see how it must have felt like a prison to him.

“You changed all that,” he murmured, gazing down at her. “You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.”

He seemed a little awed by that, but not disbelieving. She smiled and sat up, straddling his hips and taking his hands, lifting them up to her lips for a kiss to each one. Her long hair trailed down around her, the ends brushing against her thighs, against his bare chest and stomach. She held his hands, weaving their fingers together, and pushed his arms up so that they stretched over his head, leaning in to kiss him sweetly, her lips lingering on his.

“I will never find you wanting,” she murmured against his lips.

“Nor I, you,” he said. He freed one hand from her grip to move her hair from her face, gathering it all over one shoulder so the light of the galaxies and stars beyond could shine on her face again. “With these stars as my witness, I swear—you will always be enough for me.”

She stilled at those words, letting them wash over her and settle into her skin, into her chest, processing them. His words, the emotion behind them, the loving determination in his eyes, all of his was genuine, heartfelt, and deeply, deeply meant. It threatened to reduce Dani to tears again, but this time she swallowed them back and kissed him again, letting him know with every ounce of her being what that promise meant to her.

She thought she could never love him more than she already did. But hearing that promise from him—that she would always be enough for him—made her heart practically ache with love for him. She smothered his face with kisses until she was breathless, and he in turn tried to catch or return every one until he gave up and allowed himself to be smothered with a chuckle.

“I love you, Gale Dekarios,” she said at last, still hovering over him, her hair a curtain on one side of them both.

He smiled up at her and reached up to brush her cheek. “And I love you, Meridan Zavrai. I always will.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale x tav #dani #meridan zavrai #my fic #oc #the order of events is actually what happened in my game #from rolan to the annals to lorroakan to cazador #like it was a wild day #and then when gale said 'i don't think i deserve you at times'#i thought ht had like...learned his lesson #nope #so anyway here is a rewrite #no edits we die like men

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indigos-stardust · 5 months

Text

Fs pony art and lore

@shadylink I'm never really gonna refine and post these as their own thing but I figured u might be interested, most of these are just really bad finger doodles, cuz I hadn't drawn ponies in such a long time-

Btw in this au I decided to rework mlp's magic system, so basically each type of pony has their own type of magic ofc

Pegasi get flight , unicorns get spell magic, and earth ponies get strength that's the norm

But basically I'm deciding to see this as like, percentages.

Basically unicorns can do things like transformation and warp spells, pegasi can fly at high speeds skillfully and create gusts of winds, earth ponies can lift like 9x their weight and be more resistant to natural poisons/have less chance of injury because of a really dense coat and stronger bones -

but this is after specialized training in their areas and requires like years of practice. This is like 100% of the potential of those specific things, like Olympic athletes

most ponies just use like 50% of their capabilities so for unicorns that's just like refridgerating spells, light spells, levitation - pegasi is just flying over distances and being able to walk on clouds- earth ponies lifting like idk 4.5x their weight

so just normal skills that aid them in day to day life

i was thinking what if ponies could be half of two types?

so instead of just 100% magical capacity for a specific quality, 50% of their magic will be from one type and 50% of the other.

So if an earth pony and a unicorn had a kid, then MAYBE, (the phenomenon is a bit more rare but not unusual) they'd have the basic earth pony strength and the basic unicorn magic. HOWEVER, if that kid wanted to say, learn a warp spell, they wouldn't be able to do so.

Full unicorns would have longer horns and earth ponies would have stronger more vibrantly colored hooves that an earth-unicorn would.

Full pegasi would have fuller, stronger, sharper wings, while a half pegasus would have softer and smaller ones.

Alicorns would have the full magical extent of all three, essentially giving them 3x the magic of others. That mix could probably create even more magical potential.

For obvious reasons, there aren't any pegasi-unicorns because they'd look too much like alicorns design wise. I'm gonna say that their magical energies just oppose too much, while earth ponies, being so tied to the natural world is more able to mix with both.

Link was originally an earth-pegasi with a bit of extra strength and the ability to fly in general. His battle style is mostly sharp fast cuts with quick brief escapes to the air and then back into battle

also I've decided to give them clothes

when Link split into four, the types of ponies they were depended on their parents genetics

So green's a full pegasi, blue's a full earth pony, red is a earth-unicorn (this is why he uses a fire rod, he wouldn't be able to do a fire spell that strong on his own, but a fire rod would enhance his natural magic) and vio is a full unicorn

Anyways shadow is kinda like stealing king sombras vibes, he looks earth pegasi like link was but his wings are hooves are all shadowy lol

also links cutie mark was a sword in front of the triforce

after the split, each of their cutie marks turned into the four sword in front of their respective element

enjoy lol, u can do whatever u want with this info, hope you like it

EDit: also I fixed their swords so they can actually hold them with their mouths properly enough to correctly aim

oh I also forgot!

basically a little tidbit from my brainrot is that red actually got the hang of his unicorn magic really well, but vio just struggled even being able to start it up to levitate a pebble

he ended up being able to use his magic only after they almost got crushed by a rock slide and vio was able to raise a crystal sheild

he got bad magical exhaustion from that tho and still struggled to control his magic until shadow helped him later

green originally thought he was link because he was the only one who had wings, but because he wasn't earth pony and their cutie marks were just the elements they realized there wasn't an "original" but rather a split four ways

it takes them some time to realize that the type of pony they are isn't connected to the elements, but rather genetic probability

also when they first split vio had no idea he was a unicorn and while he was trying to figure it out the others were just like

listening to him ramble about how their types don't make sense!

how does earth relate to the water element? and if its a genetic thing, then why is red the only unico-

and then he's like why are u staring at me like that???is there something on my face?? and then he just has a whole freaking 100% unicorn horn and he's like well f*ck

anyways I also forgot to mention-

basically if a pony were to engage in battle stuff, some little tricks as a last ditch attempt to creat espace between themself and the enemy include:

Earth: stomping the ground so hard that your opponent loses balance

Pegasi: Creating a guest of wind to blow your opponent away

Unicorn: stab with the horn <3

#mlp #fs #four swords #MLP fs au

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year

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hi! I just saw your requests are open and I love your writing and was wondering if you can do something with either ghost or gaz where reader is going to school for their masters in communications while working with the 141 and asks them to read their thesis but instead ghost/gaz makes them take a break/go to bed or something? I've been reworking my thesis from this last semester and I'm losing my mind lol....keep up the amazing writing and thank you so much love!

Here To Serve

Hello love! Thanks for coming my way with this ask because i just needed an excuse to write for Gaz. :D Be prepared to be fall in love with this man, i did. I tried to keep it simple, i hope you'll like it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Summary: Gaz finds you glued to you computer, tired an worn out and he takes the matter in his hands.

Uh-oh. It slips out of Kyle's mouth when he stops in front of his flat. He hears the last notes of Rihanna's Umbrella song before some classical takes over, even louder. He can't hear his own keys jingle opening the door, he can hear every instrument from the blasting music, ears already ringing. He can't prepare himself for the sight hat he's about to see.

You are just a small figure on the sofa, completely buried in papers, books and sharpies. And he can't help but chuckle at how lost you look, a manic expression on your troubled face, furiously typing on the keyboard. He's sure if you see him standing there, a smile on his face while you are on the edge of going crazy, you'll bite his head of for being so insensitive. He would watch you longer if the damn music wouldn't rip his brain out.

The room is a mess, and he finds the speaker under another pile of scratched out paper. He just lowers the volume, your head snaps up immediately at the loss of the stimulating background noise.

You look honestly horrifying.

"Oh no. You are home early." You smile, sheepish, almost embarrassed. Your eyes are glossy, makeup smudged over your cheek, messy hair peeking out of his grey hoodie that you are wearing.

You sudden surprise to see him sooner than you thought is quick to dissolve, you start rambling when Gaz sends you that scolding gaze. "Okay, so i had an idea. But that turned out worse than the previous one. So i had to rewrite half of it. But then i realized i may or ma no the original one better, so i..."

"Love.." Gaz puts down the Mexican food he got on his way home, finding his way to you over books and random stuff he wouldn't think about using while preparing for a thesis. Crouching next to you, a soft look easing the tension in your shoulders. "We talked about this."

"But i done it. Seriously." You turn your laptop towards him, to show a folder that was there weeks ago, perfect and ready. "I just need you to read it and tell me what's wrong with it."

Gaz shakes his head with a faint smile. "Oh no, no more of that nonsense. Give it to me."

With that, the computer is out of your reach, his skillful hands stealing it from your iron grip you had on it for hours now. You just now feel your sweaty palms, and an aching back and neck. "No, Kyle, please. I gotta double check if it's okay now."

"You will not do such thing tonight, and if it's up to me, ever." He take the laptop to the other end of the room, saving the folder beforeshutting it down. You want to protest more, but honestly your body is like stone, rooted on the same spot where you sat down in the early afternoon.

He's wearing casual clothes, one of your favorite jacket, that dark brown leather one, his skin is glowing from the wetness of the rain, cologne leaving a scent trail behind. You missed him so much.

You sigh, defeated, you know he won't let you touch anything that is related to your studies.

He walks back to you, your tired eyes searching for comfort in his gaze that he's more than happy to offer with a quick peck on your lips when gets back to you. He brushes the hair out of your face, soft fingertips caressing your skin. He doesn't linger too long, turning to the bag he placed on table, probably finding the only free space on it.

"Hey, where are you going?" You pout, unhappy about his absence in your personal space. He has that calming effect on you, and the loss of it makes your brain tick, circling back to your thesis.

"Uh-uh, do not think about it! I brought food, just gon' grab soda from the fridge and we can dug in, copy?" You nod, starting to arrange the books on the table, pushing everything in a big unstable pile in the middle.

He returns quickly, flashing a wide smile, eyes sparkling with love. You watch him fish out the food from the takeaway bag, the smell of Mexican food hitting your nose. He places mystery food bags in front of, making you wonder what deliciousness is inside them. "There you go, love."

You dive in together, eating in silence, a soft piano and violin duo making some background noise, occasionally letting out some huffs and satisfied hums.

You both watch the other in secret, laughing like teenagers when catching a glimpse of the other staring. Times like this you remember how young you both are, despite the lifes you live. On the field, his youthfulness presents itself as strength in body and mind, in quick reflexes and sharp ideas. At home, he is just a guy, feeding his significant other, making sure they are well rested and cared for. He's an idiot in love.

You inhaled you food while he eats comfortably, no rush in it. So you just memorize this moment, him eating in complete piece, enjoying the flavors, shutting his eyes for a seconds longer, maybe the taste is better that way. You are in awe of how full of life he is, and you would be the happiest person on this earth to keep watching him.

He opens his eyes, the last bite gone too. "Wha?" He's bushing, his accent popping off with the question.

"Nothing." You hold up both your hands, or rather the arms of the hoodie that swallowed your limbs.

Breath caught in his throat every time he sees you in his clothes. Yeah, you wore it ten minutes ago too, when he arrived home, but as your face beams like the rays of sunshine, a stupid smile plastered on your perfect lips, your body hiding under his own clothing, he feels like he's in heaven. His scent hugging your skin, the thought that you are so cozy in his clothes is just intoxicating. Makes his heart skip a beat.

"Come 'ere." That voice, raspy like in the mornings, when hes turned on, or when his emotions strike him at once. He pulls you close to his side, arm hugging you close, securing your body next to his. You snake your limbs over his body, leg hooked in his, arm grabbing his shirt for support.

When you settle, he sighs into your hair, planting small kisses on the crown of your head.

"Thanks for the dinner." You smile, turning our face upwards to meet with his gaze. "And for the distraction."

"Anytime, love. Here to serve." His cheeky smile makes you giggle, oh how madly in love you are with him.

"Hmmm... Well in that case, where the hell is the dessert soldier?" You ask, not able to hide your smile.

"Your dessert is right here, darling." He point at himself, utterly proud of his answer.

You laugh into his mouth, closing that already small distance between your lips, sharing a longing kiss. A kiss you yearn all day.

You break the kiss, trying to be as serious as you can. "But you brought dessert, right?"

He laughs, head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah, i brought dessert."

He kisses you with fiery eyes, tenderly, lovingly, the softest way a man is capable of. That dessert might have to wait a little more.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick imagine #gaz x reader #gaz garrick x reeader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick imagine #cod x reader

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thebestofoneshots · 9 months

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Hey You!

Ok I was just infatuated with your sneak peak for GC Ch. 25 omg. I had to look at it over and over again since yesterday. Really I love your AI art for this series. This is exactly how I picture the boys in my head. Sirius' hair I'm dying. I've already spent my time using AI to create portraits of them, and it was just rubbish. Maybe I'm not advanced enough to use it properly. But I just had a look at you last art again and I just have to ask you! I have so many questions. Which tools do you use to create it? Do you rework the pics with other software like Photoshop or something? And most important, and propably the most improper question: what do you tell the AI to do exactly? You don't have to answer this one. I don't want to steal your style or anything, I'd just like to know how you get them pictured so accurate you know? And how much time do you spend in average to be satisfied with a picture to publish it for GC?

Yeah I hope I'm not rude asking you this, but I'm a big fan of your work 😭

Have a nice week! 🤍

I find it hilarious I got this question just when I was fighting with AI to do what I wanted it to do lol.

There are a lot of questions, so I'll try to be as detailed as possible. I talked about the AIs I used on this post. But basically, I recommend Bing's Image Creator that's powered by Dall-e 3.

I do rework the pics, not always, but AI always seems to confuse hair colours, gives Sirius a sandy brown and Remus black, so I do find myself switching that often (I use things like picsart, facelab, procreate and makeup+ for this). I have also done some face altering things here and there, especially when the faces don't look exactly like I want them to, for example in this one:

I wasn't quite satisfied with Sirius' face so I altered the features a little more so that they looked exactly like they looked in my head. This minor alterations I find myself doing rather often on the pictures that will be the official ones.

Now the time I spend until I'm satisfied varies, sometimes the AI image is perfect and I use it straight, sometimes I have try a few times over and over until I get the exact result I want, and that takes much more time. Maybe like 30-40 minutes to get the image and the side (aesthetic) pics I add to the sides.

Now, the most important question, what do I say? Again it varies, sometimes I find myself tweaking and altering things arounf until I get exactly what I want. For this image in particular I said something like this:

16 year old Remus Lupin (sandy blond hair, golden-brown eyes, scars on his face, handsome)holding back a 16 Sirius Black 16 year old Sirius black (long curly hair, delicate & soft features, pretty and handosme, grey-blue eyes). Remus has his hand in Sirius shoulder, they both look tense, like they want to stop a fight. Defense against the dark arts classroom. realistic art.

I remember I changed it later, to Hogwarts classroom and students standing behind but, once I get the basics of the composition I tweak things around until I have exactly what I want.

Now I find AI has some issues with side profiles, maybe I haven't cracked it yet, but I spent all my energy on Bing trying to get the right composition for an image for next week's episode and it was not cooperating with me.

I asked for this:

16 year old Remus Lupin (sandy brown hair, golden-brown eyes, scars on his face, handsome) and young Sirius black (long curly hair, delicate & soft features, pretty and handosme, grey-blue eyes, gryffindor). Remus covers Sirius mouth with his hand and he is pressing his chest onto Sirius’, they’re front to front (we see their profiles), foreheads almost touching . Restricted section of the library. they’re hiding from someone. realistic art.

And kept getting Remus standing behind Sirius:

Don't get me wrong, I loved most of this, they look amazing! But it wasn't exactly my vision. Even wasted $15 usd on DALL·E hoping it would make it better but I was very disappointed (Bing is so much better and FREE).

Eventually, I got one image that did exactly what I wanted and I'm currently reworking it to make it exactly what I want, we'll see how it goes in the end.

But yeah, I've spent almost all day working on this (using my free time at work), and only one out of all worked, so time spent on it really, really varies.

Hope you find this helpful darling, and if you managed to get the image I've struggling with to work, it'd be really cool if you shared it with me.

Read Gilded Constellations

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queenofthekings · 1 year

Text

𝐼 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

Summary: Long after you and Eddie break up, it's still affecting both of you.

Author’s note: I know I keep posting so much angst and I'm sorry lol. I asked some friends if they'd be interested in reading my Edancy fics reworked as Reader fics and they said yes! It felt like such a shame those fics didn't get the love I thought they deserved so I hope they can get a second chance as Reader.

CW: Mentions of drugs and smoking.

Word count: 1k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

The first few weeks after a breakup are the worst; the depression of missing them, the uncertainty of if you made the right choice in ending the relationship, the regret of not doing or saying something you wish you had. That’s how you had constantly been feeling. You’d felt so anxious you could barely eat, sleep, or concentrate on any of your schoolwork and frankly, you looked terrible.

Even though you had been the one to break it off, you regretted it almost instantly. You still loved him; you were still hopelessly in love with him, but you knew the relationship could never work. You both came from two completely different worlds, the likelihood of you working out and lasting longer than high school was slim. And you didn’t want to prolong the inevitable or put him through any unneeded pain.

Anytime you saw Eddie around school, your heart ached. While on the outside he was laughing and joking with his friends, you knew on the inside he was just as heartbroken as you were – probably even more. The breakup had destroyed him, he’d spent several days in his room, smoking all the drugs he had and drinking until he couldn’t even remember what day it was.

From across the lunchroom, your eyes met and in that moment, it was like you’d never broke up. He still looked at you like you were the centre of his universe and the whole would didn’t matter when he saw you, and it almost made you cry. He still looked at you with so much love and care, but you couldn’t accept it anymore.

You looked away, certain if you looked too long, you truly would begin to cry. Hastily, you packed up your things and rushed out of the room. You tried your best to keep your composure as you powerwalked down the hallways towards the bathrooms, but you broke down in controllable sobbing. Leaning against a wall, you slowly slid down it until you were sat on the floor with your head in your hands.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop crying. And it wasn’t her normal “pretty” crying, this was full on ugly, gut-wrenching sobbing. It felt like all the weeks of keeping it inside her, seeing his eyes made it impossible to hold anything back.

You heard footsteps slowly approach and stop right in front of you, but you were so blinded by your tears you could barely make out whose shoes they were. It wasn’t until you felt arms around you, bringing you into a warm chest that you tried to see who it was.

Eddie.

Who else could it have been?

You shook your head, trying to get away from him as you wiped your tears as best as you could with your hands and the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry, you should go.”

It was Eddie’s turn to shake his head, refusing to let you go. “No, I’m staying.”

You looked up at him, tears still falling down your cheeks, even after all your efforts to stop them. “But why? I broke up with you, I completely broke you. Why do you care that I’m suffering?”

Eddie let out almost a bitter chuckle, his own eyes watering a little as he held back his own tears. “Sweetheart, do you think I care for you so little that breaking up with me would make a difference?”

You blinked a few times, almost unable to speak without stuttering. “What? I don’t-”

Gently hushing you, he cupped your cheek, his thumb drying your eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, you fucked me up pretty badly by breaking up with me. But I know why you did it, and don’t lie to me by saying it was because you stopped loving me. I can see it – I know you still love me, I still love you, too. But you know I’m no good and you wanted to save me the pain for later.

“I fuckin’ miss you, sweetheart. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. When you were there, I didn’t need drugs or alcohol to feel something, you could just hold my hand, and it would give me the same rush. Whenever you’d come to The Hideout, you were the only person who mattered, even if a hundred people were there, as long as my girl was there, it would be a great show.

I’d give anything to have you back, but I know we can’t, and I,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”

You almost started crying again when you saw him upset, you pressed your forehead against his and closed her eyes, with him doing the same. “You might not have been my first love, Eddie. But I wanted you to be my last… I still do, I still want you to be my last. I still want a forever with you, but we can’t have it anymore and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I can’t give you that.”

The pair of you held each other in silence after that, the floodgates finally opening for both of you, and the tears freely came down. The bell rang to signal the end of lunchbreak, causing you both to laugh through your tears and clamber to your feet, your hand automatically sliding into Eddie’s.

Once you realised what you had done, you quickly let go of his hand. You both did your best to wipe your eyes and try to make it less obvious that you’d been crying but your spoiled makeup and Eddie’s puffy eyes gave it away pretty quickly.

You stared at each other, trying to figure out what to say and where you should go after the words you’d exchanged. You knew you couldn’t get back together, but you couldn’t go back to never speaking to each other, either. So, the obvious third option would be to become friends but even that would be a difficult idea.

“So, what happens now?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess we take things a day at a time.”

#spilled ink #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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