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Dead Boy Detectives is such a pretty show in terms of lighting and colours <3
#THE NIKO DANDELION FLASHBACK MY BELOVED#CRYSTAL ESPECIALLY LOOKS GREAT IN ALL THE FOREST SCENES BECAUSE THE RED PARTS OF HER HAIR CONTRAST WITH THE GREENS/BLUES#and i loveeee all the butcher shop scenes. it's such a good set#ace's random thoughts :)
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are we friends….as in officially?
(and this is her voice 🥺😊🫶💕🌈 while saying it)
uh.. yeah? i- i mean right?
(SHE WAS GIGGLING, BLUSHING, KICKING HER FEET, SQUEALING, JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND PLAYING WITH HER HAIR IN SILENCE DURING THAT SCENE LIKE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT NATALIA WAS ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO DO THERE BUT HER AND MAYA MADE IT SEEM SO GAY IM SO💥💥 AH! also robin was definitely feeling sooo gay there holy peanut butter)
#percy answers asks!!#im not wrong at all#she was literally blushing you cant tell me she wasnt#you found my weakness help#ronance forest scene my beloved..
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imagine watching the green knight knowing pretty much nothing of arturian lore or the poem it was based on im telling you that shit was WIIIILD
#saw a gif set of THAT scene (u know the one) and was like yeah ill watch that but literally literally was not prepared for anything else lol#the green knight#tender tender facial touches my beloved#they shouldve fcked nasty in the forest btw we all agree right#rant rant
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Faebur aesthetic?
hhhrgrgg to have that omf,,,,,,,
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It is still absolutely a marvel to me how much BATFAMILY fic I have been reading and enjoying, it's been awhile since I've gone at such a sustained fever pitch so consistently, which is because this fandom keeps putting out fic that makes me fall in love all over again, along with all the comics I've been reading and enjoying. I am so delighted by how I can bounce around various eras or characters (well, let's be fair, I still have a Dick Grayson Problem That I Am Making Your Problem Too) and there's so much to read that I'm having trouble keeping up!
Join me in having the best problem: Too much good fic to read, because I swear that even when I'm crying because fic has punched me in the feelings, I'm still having a great time and it's definitely not a trap to lure you all into crying with me. Well, unless you're into that. And, in that case, READ AND CRY AND/OR MELT INTO GOO WITH ME, BECAUSE FANDOM IS PROVIDING.
BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Step One: Learning to Catch by TheBlueMoo, dick & bruce, 2k “Okay, now extend your arms.” It was jarring, Bruce reflected, to be taking instructions from his nine-year-old ward. He was trying to think of it as receiving lessons from an expert gymnast instead, but it wasn’t really helping. or Dick freaks out during training one night, and Bruce isn't entirely sure why ✦ the quiet noise by orphan_account, dick & clark & jim (& bruce), 3.4k When Batman is in surgery after a stab wound to the lung, Commissioner Gordon sits with Robin at the hospital as they wait for someone from the league to arrive. ✦ The art of falling in the rain by Bob_the_bastard, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.4k Ordinarily it wouldn’t have been an issue, ordinarily Bruce would have taken a few steps back, caught his breath and continued on. But that night wasn’t normal. ✦ Our roots will not whither away by KrazySuperGirl, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 6.4k Bruce and Dick return to Gotham. There are plenty of problems and plenty of good days. ✦ Will Protect You From All Around You by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce, 3k Bruce has always expected that one day he'll wake up and feel like a Real Adult, but it hasn't happened yet. Why had he thought that this parenting thing would be easy? ✦ Fly South by SonoSvegliato, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k Birds fly south in winter. Robin leaves in the summer. ✦ Vertigo by tinycrown, dick & bruce & ollie & cast, 1.8k After being ambushed by Count Vertigo's men, Batman's partner isn't doing so well. Green Arrow observes. ✦ Friends by mx_chrx99, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k The manor loomed large, surrounded by acres of manicured grass and trees bursting with autumnal colors that made Dick feel like he was gazing at a forest on fire. He was distantly aware that the scene in front of him was incredible, something out of a storybook. He should have been amazed and even grateful, but all he could think was, 'Mom would have loved this.' ✦ There For You by Val_Creative, dick & bruce & cast, 2.4k Snapshots of how Robin came to be Batman's trusted partner and how Dick became Bruce's beloved son. /Standalone. No pairings. ✦ tummy troubles by brandywine421, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.5k Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed and warily pulled back the covers. Dick blinked at him with wide, sad blue eyes. "What's wrong?" "Don't feel good," he murmured, scowling when Bruce curled his hand against his cheek. "My stomach hurts." ✦ Stay a Child by ijustwanttodestroy, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.2k “Redo it,” Bruce orders. ��Aw, come on!” Dick dares to pout — a thing that he uses often, and would work on anyone but Bruce and Alfred. Sometimes. Bruce gives him a look. “I’m not going to do it for you.” “I’m going to misdo it until you do,” Dick threatens. ✦ Whole, but not hale by Fae_Winter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 1.5k Bruce was never listening to Clark again, damnit ✦ Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes by catboysam, dick & bruce, 1k Bruce wishes, as he has wished every minute of every day for nearly 20 years, that things were different for himself. But now he also wishes that for Dick. No child should have to experience what they have. But he really is selfish, it seems, because at the same time, how could he possibly want to give up a single second with this little miracle in his arms? ✦ yet to be friends by rxsecret, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 2.3k It's the annual Wayne Gala, and one of the few reporters allowed at the event just so happened to be from Metropolis. ✦ And I’ll look into your eyes to find out if I’m real by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick, 1.6k Bruce wants a lot of things. A bath. Seeing his family. Not having been missing for a whole year. He wants Dick to wake up and realize he’s not a hallucination.
BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ medicine by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, ~1k “We have to get out of here,” Dick says, trying and failing to sit up. “Before, before they get back.” “Dick, listen to me. You’re sick,” Bruce says, running a hand through Dick’s hair. “You’re in an isolation unit at the Watchtower’s medical bay.” Dick shakes his head. That can’t be right. “They’re trying to, to poison me.” ✦ Someday All Of This Will Go Away by WanderIntoFics, dick & bruce, alternate version character death, 2.3k Bruce never stopped telling Dick he loved him. It takes a heart-wrenching and terrifying experience with an alternate future Bruce for Dick to realize that maybe he stopped being able to hear it. ✦ vacation town by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.6k Normally, Dick wouldn't enjoy recovering from a stab wound from a poisoned knife, but he has to admit, it's nice to be home. ✦ all i can by emavee, dick & bruce, 1.7k Whatever they injected Dick with is taking away his senses. Bruce tries to hold on for both of them. ✦ my arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm by emavee, dick & bruce, 5.6k wip Five times Dick held Bruce's hand, and one time Bruce held his. ✦ Moving on by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & bruce & cast, 2.7k When he’d been called to Gotham, Dick had expected to do the job and then get moving to the next thing, and then the next, and then the next. An abrupt meeting with the side of a building interrupts his plans.
BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Chatterbox by Ptelea, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & donna & roy & cast, 24.7k "Yeah, I'm fine," Dick said. Then he frowned, because he had not just meant to say that. Or: Eight times that spells or serums affected Dick's ability to speak and / or their aftermath. ✦ Misremembered and Misnumbered by miss_aphelion, bruce & dick & jason & clark & diana, 1.9k Dick may not actually be quite as old as he told everyone he was. In his defense, it wasn't so much lying as that he sort of just forgot. ✦ WE'LL LIVE IN SPACES BETWEEN WALLS. by orpheusaki, bruce & dick & jason, time travel, 4.6k (Something is different about Dick. Bruce notices.) ✦ Tonight Will Be a Memory Too by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & cass & bruce, 1.2k They don’t happen often—once a month or so, with varying degrees of spottiness. Sometimes Dick will walk into a room and forget what he’s there for. He’ll forget the locations of things, like where he left his keys or where the refrigerator is. Once he forgot his own name. Even if the episodes don’t occur often, that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. ✦ Can I Sleep With You? by Lady_of_Lorule, dick & bruce & damian & titans & cast, 2k “Dick? What is it? Are you okay?” he asked. “‘Had a nightmare,” the boy murmured, wiping at his nose quickly, then sending a darting look at Bruce. “Can I...can I sleep with you?” ✦ Broken Silence by Geeves, bruce & dick & cast, 1.3k Bruce reflects on how quiet the manor used to be. It could be painful at times, but it's not like that anymore. ✦ the care and keeping of your baby talon by quandaries_and_contradictions, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & duke & alfred, reverse robins, talon!dick, 6k In which everyone is more than a little cautious about the talon Duke brought home. Featuring chandelier swinging, Secret Garden reading, ill-advised sleuthing, and more. ✦ One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by Anonymous, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 11.3k wip Dick was twenty-eight. The boy in the mirror most certainly was not. ✦ Iron Bound by coyote_nebula, bruce & dick & jason, 3.1k Batman never ran out of solutions. He just ran out of ideal solutions. Nightwing finds himself in a tight spot involving a compact car-sized paper roll. ✦ The Mantle by ValleyOfKings, dick & clark & diana & justice league (& bruce) & cast, 2.9k Batman ‘dies’ and Dick must takes his place. He doesn't want the job but he knows that it is what he must do. He must accept the mantle and protect Gotham. The Justice League must also accept their new Batman. It might have helped if they knew that Batman didn't work as alone as they had once thought. ✦ Bravery, and everything that looks like it by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & steph, 3.4k Bruce had promised Dick a fun and chill weekend. Instead, they find themselves in the middle of a burning chemical facility. When he thinks everyone should have been evacuated, Nightwing finds a scientist trying to secure some sort of container. She’s either very brave, or she has a death wish.
BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Superhero: Dick Grayson by batmoniker, dick & jason & cast, 5.3k In which Dick shows up at the school to pick Jason up after he gets into a fight. ✦ Homecoming by sElkieNight60, dick & jason & bruce, 1.2k Jason's doped up on pain-meds. Dick's holding his hand while he's bedside monitor. Bruce probably wishes he had a camera. ✦ I do not have wings love (I never will) by dizarys, dick & jason & bruce, 2.5k Jason Todd was alive. He was also bleeding out on Dick Grayson’s apartment floor. How 'Under the Red Hood' might have ended if Dick was at Bruce and Jason's final warehouse confrontation.
BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ cashmere-soft and irresistible by victoria_p (musesfool), cass/steph, ~1k Cass and Steph and dumplings and lipstick. ✦ Picking Up Pieces by Cephalogod, bruce & steph & dick, 4k “Bruce!” Steph called as she approached, weaving between people. His head snapped towards her, and the stark relief in his expression almost stopped her in her tracks. That was just...wrong. Bruce wasn’t supposed to be relieved to see her. He was supposed to be annoyed or resignedly amused, not looking at her like a life raft in the ocean. ✦ Make an Ass of U and Me by Huntress79, Sevidri, bruce/clark & dick, 11.2k Bruce neglects to explain exactly who the attractive young man that seems to know him so well is, and what their relationship entails. Naturally, there are some misunderstandings. ✦ Presque Vu by PechoraFlow, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 17.4k wip Bruce gets amnesia and the Batfamily conspires to keep their vigilante side secret from him. They were just trying to keep him home, safe until he recovered. They expected that Bruce would pick up on clues and put together The Batman secret on his own. They didn't expect him to form a different picture entirely. They didn't expect Bruce Wayne would come to hate the Batman.
BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ spread your wings by wingedgrace, dick & tim, 2.1k “Why did you give Robin to Damian?” Dick pinched his nose. He’d started to pick up some of Batman’s habits, whether he realized it or not. “Tim, we’re not talking about this again. We’re talking about how you’re off on this… quest, to prove that Bruce is still alive. And I just want to talk. Come home.” ✦ Time Loop vs Ethiopia by AJElementus, dick & tim (& bruce & jason), 9.1k In one universe, Jason died while Dick was on a space mission with the Titans. In another? There’s a time loop. In which Jason doesn’t die, Tim joins the family early, and Dick... well... Dick's just trying to figure out what's going on! ✦ so won't you stay, won't you stay (with me?) by dizarys, dick & tim, 1.3k Tim's having a hard night. So where else does he go but to his big brother's apartment? ✦ under the wing by acrobats, dick & tim & cast, 1.4k “Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.” – Marc Brown
BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ buy back the secrets by sundiscus, tim/kon & bruce & clark & jason & cast, 71k wip He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.” Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy. ✦ Can't Shake the Feeling by Hayleythewriter, tim/kon & tim/bernard & cassie & bart & dick & damian & cast, 17k Tim introduces his boyfriend to his friends. Almost everyone likes him. ✦ The Electric Pull of Spring by Merelymine, tim/kon, nsfw, 4.3k "I feel fine," Kon says, breathing deeply. He leans towards Tim and takes an even deeper, longer breath. "I feel really, really good, actually. And you smell—you smell really good." ✦ A No Good Very Bad Day by mademoisellePlume, tim/kon & jason & lois, read the tags, 3.7k You’d think drugging a half-Kryptonian into sleep would be half as easy as taking a full Kryptonian out of commission. But no, life couldn’t be that simple for Jason, could it? He watched Superboy stumble down the hallway in his pyjama pants, eyes half-lidded and sweating like Two-Face when a flipped coin balanced on its edge. ✦ Pandora's Other Box by FridaysChild, tim/kon & dick & bart & kate & ma kent, 2.5k Prompt: "Kon and Tim identify as straight. After realising their mutual attraction, they both freak out in different ways."
BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ Adoptions by Kannika, clark & conner & cast, 2.7k Clark prepared for a lot of things, getting closer to Conner. This is not one of them. ✦ Aftershock by sElkieNight60, clark/lois & conner & jon, 13k wip He knows this is awkward for Clark. It’s awkward for them both. They were gonna start slow. Warm up to each other. Maybe go apple-picking in the summer. A movie, a restaurant, bowling, or something. But a sleepover, really? That wasn’t going slow. ✦ IS IT JUST YOU AND ME IN THE WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD? by orpheusaki, clark & conner & bruce & diana & jason & cast, 2.2k "You look happy, Kal." She's right, Clark is overjoyed. In between shopping for children's clothes with Lois (after she'd gotten over the shock of it all, which was surprisingly quick. Clark thinks Lois might prefer Conner to him now, not that he blames her for it) and wandering around the Fortress of Solitude with a small palm tucked into his own, Clark hasn't stopped grinning, "Superman is no longer the only Kryptonian alive." (Clark saves Conner from CADMUS as a child AU.)
BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ oh but if I could choose, I would choose not to feel by dizarys, bruce & dick & donna & cast, 1.4k His eyes flicked over the long room, evaluating and searching. When he finally spotted him, Bruce’s heart plummeted. Dick Grayson was slouched at the crumb flecked bar counter, staring blankly into a barely touched pint with a hand twisted in his hair. Misery personified. ✦ batman by hellsreluctantheir, dick & jason & tim & bruce, 57.3k Dick came back from a trip to space to a dead father figure, a grieving, guilty little brother, and a legacy waiting for him. Suddenly he's moving back to Gotham, playing Bat, trying to keep Jason from spiraling, trying to keep himself from spiraling, with the added bonus of a kid stalking him at the grocery store. It takes two years before things start to feel like they're getting better. Which is right about when the Red Hood comes to town. ✦ Day 3 - Nightmares (2.2) by fanfictiongreenirises, bruce & dick & tim, 3.3k Bruce is resigned to the nightmares after their most recent kidnapping. But that doesn't mean they don't have an impact on him. ✦ My Brother's Keeper by Chemical_Processes, dick & damian & tim & cast, 6.2k Tim gets hit with Fear while on a league mission, and it's Damian's job to get him home in one piece. ✦ Pale Reflections by BearlyWriting, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cast, 2.6k ‘Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick. And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.’ ✦ love brought weight to this heart by dizarys, bruce & dick & john & mary & damian & duke, 1.9k Of course Dick came by every time Haly’s was in town. But he loved when his family was able to join him. And now, with lights illuminating the big top, performers streaming into the ring with flashy costumes, and his family enthralled, Dick felt at peace. Both sides of his life were together. It should’ve been perfect. And looking back, he still wasn’t sure what pushed it off course. But it might have been the fire. ✦ what's in a name by envysparkler, bruce & dick & jason, 4.5k Kidnappers strike at a gala and abduct two of Bruce Wayne’s sons. Or at least that’s what they think. ✦ I’m gambling with the sun (on which one of us dies young) by dizarys, dick & jason & donna & roy & tim & damian & cassandra & cast, 6.9k The Justice League have been wiped from existence by Pariah, leaving Nightwing to once again navigate the death of Batman. But this time, even with his siblings and friends rallying around him, the cracks start to show ✦ (someone told me) love would all save us by YouAreTheBrightest234 (TransLucas), bruce & dick & tim, 1k Dick is floating in an abyss of black. It is not peaceful, yet not malicious. It simply is. ✦ Slipping 998° by CKBookish, bruce & dick & tim & cast, 2.5k When a house fire turns deadly Bruce wonders if he will be too late... again.
#lumi.txt#dc#batfam#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#bruce wayne#clark kent#conner kent#timkon#fic recs#batman fic recs#long post#really long post
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Hidden Paradise
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader
Rating: Explicit (detailed shagging)
Warnings: Unprotected sex and also shower sex which we all know is unsafe
Summary: You walk in on a man in the shower, it takes you seeing him in the skull mask a week later to realise it was Ghost, and he is very intrigued by your reaction
Notes: This absolutely wouldn’t be possible without @xxven my muse and pookie and beta reader who gave me the plot 🤍❤️ (also raven on TikTok for making a hot thirst trap that inspired a whole scene)
Word Count: 4,195 (I am very horny for ghost)
ao3 link
There was very little luxury to be found on a military base; your military fatigues were never soft, your boots were the cheapest given by the contractors, your bed squeaked every time you so much as moved an inch, and there wasn’t so much as a tealight allowed in the barracks.
However, you’d found a quiet sanctuary. Far from the rest of the buildings on the base, there was a small shower block, disused and forgotten about in favour of the newer, more convenient showers. The water pressure wasn’t all that great, and the tiles would probably never return to whatever shade of white they’d started out as, but all that mattered was that it was so wonderfully, blissfully quiet.
Silence was one of the hardest commodities to come across on a military base; there was always something going on, whether it be a training exercise with a hard-edged sergeant screaming at recruits or the grunts trying out whatever shiny new piece of equipment the government had seen fit to waste money on, but out there in the shower block, muffled by a copse of trees, there was nothing. Beautiful, precious, nothing.
Today had been yet another long lesson in tedium, worsened by the fact that your most beloved friends were out in the field, busy repairing the vehicles with whatever they could scavenge from the base. You already felt exhausted at the idea of how much paperwork you’d have to do after they’d torn through the place, and the day proved you right, with you having to go to every single place in the garages to check what stock had been taken as mechanics had an annoying habit of forgetting to write down what they’d used. It was long into the evening by the time you’d finally finished putting in the orders to replace every strange bit of junk the mechanics had used, and all you could think about was the long shower you were going to take.
The route through the forest was one of the only places you could get away with wearing your headphones and listening to music without getting scolded by the sergeant on patrol, and you took advantage of this privilege every time, blasting some classic disco music in your ears as you approached the shower block, blissfully unaware of the world outside. If not, you might have noticed the sound of the shower running.
As such, you walked into the block thinking of nothing but how your new eucalyptus shower steamer would smell, having got fairly good reviews online. You already had a favourite shower at this point, the one on the very end, with the best water pressure that the rusted old pipes could provide, though it had no door to speak of. You walked along the yellowed tile floor, passing by the empty showers until you finally reached your favourite one, only to find that it was very much not empty.
Standing under the sputtering stream of water was a tall, well-built man, his tan back glistening under the hundreds of droplets of water, highlighting the various white scars on his back, some of them small, some of them intimidatingly large. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down, admiring the muscles in his back and perfectly toned legs, as well as a surprisingly sculpted ass. Whoever he was, he was statuesque in his beauty, as though he had been carved out of marble, and as he turned around to face you, showcasing the golden hair that trailed down from his abs, you caught a glimpse of his shaft, thick and long, yet quickly covered by a large hand.
It was that movement that broke the lustful spell you were under, and your eyes finally stopped ogling his body and flicked up to his face. You didn’t recognise him, not his pale green eyes or his crooked nose, but you could absolutely recognise the outrage on his face, and you yanked down your headphones, keeping your eyes firmly above his waist, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” His voice was little more than a snarl, “Get out.” You had absolutely no desire to argue with a man built like that, so you gave a quick nod and hurried back out of the shower block, not willing to spend a single second more in his presence.
~
Since your encounter in the showers, not a single night had gone past where you hadn’t dreamed about the man, his body, his hands, the dark blond hair that led down his navel, and the thick veins on his forearms. It lurked in the back of your mind, eternally present as a lustful little memory to entertain you during the more boring moments of your day.
Yet again, you were in another meeting writing down what items had been used over the week and what needed to be ordered for the next month's exercise. It was made slightly more interesting by the fact that this time, you were working with the SAS, and not just that, but with some of the most feared soldiers there were, including the worst of the worst, Ghost .
You swore you could almost feel the insidious aura coming from the man in the skull mask, as though it was radiating off him in dark waves. When he spoke, his words were sharp and to the point, never expending more energy than was strictly necessary, and rarely directing his attention to you, sitting in silence and taking notes, not that you were complaining. Every time the man spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as though your body was trying to warn you that he was dangerous. It was only toward the end of the meeting that you finally spoke up, standing and reciting everything that you’d written down in your notebook.
It was times like that where you’d have to put on a brave face as if you feared the room of men no more than a pack of kittens, making sure your voice was loud and firm, forcing them to listen to you. None of them seemed particularly interested; after all, you were a perfect, albeit boring professional, yet you remained undeterred, making eye contact with each of them. Even Ghost was looking at you; you could see those pale green eyes watching you from underneath his skull mask with a strange intensity. You remained undeterred, staring back at the man as you read out the various things that were in stock and what would have to be ordered, yet there was something niggling at the back of your head. Those eyes were strangely familiar.
It took you a second to remember, and then the barely buried memory came back: the beautiful man in the shower, his body glistening, his toned muscles, and the dark blond hair that covered his navel. The words in your mouth died on your tongue, and you saw Ghost’s eyebrow raise underneath his mask as if he was intrigued by your reaction to him. You cleared your throat, hoping that the heat you felt in your cheeks wouldn’t show up on your skin as you dropped your eyes back down to your notebook, pointedly ignoring him as you focused back on your task, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything.
Inexplicably, Ghost spoke up, interrupting your admittedly dull recital of your list, “How soon can we get a restock of the M16 mags?” His question forced you to look over at him, and his pale green eyes seemed as though they were trying to drill right through your head. You refused to back down this time, meeting his gaze no matter how prevalent the image of his naked body was in your mind, even if you did stumble over your words as you flipped through the pages, “Those mags, uh, the ammo for the M16 that is, we ordered those last Tues-Wednesday , so they’ll be in by the end of this week.”
You couldn’t see his expression under his mask, but you could have sworn that it tugged in a way that suggested he was smirking underneath the black fabric, a touch of smugness in his eyes. Was he flirting with you? There was no possible way for you to find out in the middle of a full room, so you decided to put that tantalising idea to the side, wrapping up the last few items on your list and then glancing around the room, “If there’s anything else, please send me an itemised list by the end of the day.”
With that, the meeting was over, every soldier packing up their files, undoubtedly each one as bored as you, and you had little desire to spend any more time with them, especially with the suspiciously intense look Ghost was giving you, so you gave your farewells and left the room as quickly as you could, doing your best to rid your mind of the confusing thoughts whirling around in your mind. Ghost, the supposed ‘psycho’ killer, was flirting with you. Or perhaps threatening you. You weren’t entirely sure which. And yet, you had a strange desire to find out, that small part of you that longed to step into dangerous territory. But how could you? That meeting had been the only time you’d ever interacted with the man; other than your brief encounter in the shower, it didn’t seem like there would ever be another opportunity to be alone with him.
Unless.
Regardless of how outraged he’d been previously, he’d seemed entirely intrigued by you in the meeting, almost amused. You’d seen the direction he was headed; if your mind wasn’t already overtaken with delusional optimism, you could have sworn that he was striding in the direction of the old shower block with what seemed like great determination.
This was one of those deciding moments, a fork in the path where you got to choose what the outcome would be: adherence to your usual routine or something far more thrilling. You could almost feel the clock ticking in your head, your time running short, and for once, you decided to be brave and at least a little bit stupid, heading to your barracks to pick up your things before heading out toward the shower block, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you made your way through the small woods to the brick building.
Even from the outside, you could hear the shuddering of the pipes as they desperately pumped water, your heart beginning to pick up the pace as you pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it softly behind you, now able to hear the pattering of water on the tile floor and see the black clothing draped over the bench that ran the length of the wall. You walked down the centre of the block, approaching the last stall on the end, and yet, you couldn’t take that final step. Everything below the waist was screaming at you to leap into the shower with the man, yet your brain conjured images of the humiliating HR meeting you’d be in if you had, in fact, entirely misinterpreted what were admittedly very subtle hints. You didn’t dare push over that line with a man so far above you in rank, but you weren’t prepared to entirely give up, so you merely slunk into the stall next to his, stripping off your uniform and hanging it on the backside of the door, pulling it to and surrendering yourself to an unsatisfying shower.
The shower head shuddered as you twisted the knob for water, a few spats of water dripping out, yet nothing more. There was a good reason you stuck to that end stall; almost every other shower there had been neglected to the point of failure. You took this as a sign to give up, turning around to get your things, only to find Ghost standing in the now open doorway.
There was nothing but a towel lazily wrapped around his hips to cover him up, his blond hair already soaked, water leaving little trails down his body, pulling your eyes down. You quickly snapped your attention back to his face, your hands already going to cover your chest and between your legs instinctually. Ghost’s eyes lingered on your body before finally flicking to the broken shower head, then back to your face. You could see that intrigued twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a slightly smug smirk, gesturing toward the other shower stall with his head, “Mine works. We should share.”
You almost couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. The exact situation had been playing out in your mind ever since you’d seen him naked, yet never once had you made the connection between your shower Adonis and Lieutenant Ghost. The two couldn’t be reconciled in your head, but you quickly decided that this was a problem to be solved later, if at all. You turned your non-functioning shower off, though slightly reluctant to use the hand covering your chest to do so, and then walked out of the stall, ducking under Ghost’s arm holding the door open for you, and rounding the corner into the warm stream of the only functional shower, allowing the water to wash away all the important questions that should have been asked, only focusing on the present moment.
Though you’d chosen to face away from him, you could still hear the noise of his towel hitting the wall as he tossed it aside, your entire body tensing up as you felt his presence behind you, the nerves nipping at the back of your mind. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, trying to find something else to focus on to quiet your frenzied brain, your eyes flicking to the one bottle of his on the floor in the shower, trying to figure out what scent ‘original’ was supposed to be, and whether one liquid really could be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
Your thoughts on his toiletries were brought to an instant halt at the first touch of his hand on your hip, a questioning touch as though he was gauging your interest before moving any further. He might have been feared special forces, yet here, you retained a level of control, of security. You relaxed into his touch, leaning back until you bumped up against his chest, and his arm snaked around your stomach, wrapping tightly around your waist as he stepped forward into the stream from the shower, his head dipping down to rest in the crook of your neck. You could feel his other hand trail a path up your thigh before it, too, wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him in a tight embrace, like a man starved for any sort of touch.
For a moment, the two of you remained in that simple intimacy, your arms resting on top of his, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his embrace. Your hands were the first to move, your fingertips gently trailing over the muscles in his forearms, admiring the strength in them, unable to hold back a smile as you saw the not-so-subtle way he flexed them for you. His hand moved then, and you followed them with your own, one trailing down over your hipbone to the top of your thigh, gently stroking the skin there, the other one shifting up until it was just underneath your breast, pausing right before he touched anywhere interesting.
Clearly, he wasn’t about to touch anywhere without your explicit permission, and you decided to test him, pulling his left hand up until it was settled over your breast. His fingers paused, and you felt the tenseness in his arms, yet after a beat, he stretched out his fingers, tracing a little pattern over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple before his hand covered your boob entirely, gently squeezing it in his hand. You could feel his breathing growing heavier, every exhale blowing air over the skin of your neck, but you had no intention of stopping, relaxing into his touch, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your eyes closed. The hand on your thigh had grown tight, fingers digging into your flesh, and you began to move his hand further in to where you could feel a growing need for his touch.
The further you moved his hand, the tighter his grip on your chest got, pulling you closer against him until you could finally feel his hardness pressed against the small of your back. His clear excitement emboldened you further, and you pushed his hand firmly between your legs, letting his fingers slightly part your labia to rest on your clit. That action earned you a low growl from him, and he buried his face into your shoulder as he pushed his fingers further down, touching the slick wetness beginning to leak out of your needy pussy. The second he felt your wetness, he drew his fingers back from you, digging them into your hip and pulling you firmly against him, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your neck as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.
You had no problem allowing him to take his time, focusing on the simple pleasure of the warm water on your skin and the heat emanating from his chest to your back. His hand moved back to your pussy, more determined than before, as he slid his fingers down your slit, gently probing your slick hole with his fingers. As he slowly slid one in, he let out a strangled groan, shifting his face so he could bite down on the flesh of your neck, his other hand massaging your breast as his finger began to easily slip inside you. He stretched his thumb up to rest on your clit as he gently began to pump his finger in and out of you, rubbing in little circles, and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan.
The slightest of noises from you seemed to spur him on, and he pushed another finger inside you, beginning to kiss and suck at your neck as he did so, your body easily accepting his two fingers, and so he followed it with a third, his dick twitching with excitement against your back as all three of his fingers sank inside you without resistance.
Whatever good sense you had left was beginning to dissipate in the haze of your lust, and you reached your hand behind you to wrap around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke him as he gently fucked you with his fingers. He rewarded you with a soft groan in your ear, and so you quickened your pace, beginning to pump his dick in earnest, wanting him to receive the same pleasure as you. Your body was eagerly opening up around him, and the last bit of your intelligence vanished as your desperation for him overpowered you, and you begged for stupidity in two words.
“Fuck me.”
There was no hesitance in Ghost’s touch now as he pulled his fingers out of you, turning you to face him and then bending down to grab your thighs and lift you up, pinning you to the cool, damp wall of the shower stall. You could see the lust in his eyes as he shifted to hold you with only one hand, the other quickly moving to his dick, positioning it at your slick entrance and then slowly beginning to lower you down onto him. There was no comparison to the pleasure you felt, not only from feeling him slide into you, but to watch his face as he did so, his open lips, the desperate look in his eyes, his gaze entirely focused on you as though you were Aphrodite herself. You sunk your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud as you felt him stretch out your insides, yet you let your hands dig into his shoulders, your nails raking his skin as you felt every inch of him.
When you finally sunk down to the base of his cock, he leant forwards to rest his head on the wall beside you, clearly struggling to contain his composure, his hand digging into the flesh of your thigh, the other splayed out on the cool tile wall. He took a second to breathe before he began to slowly thrust up into you, his hand shifting from your thigh to your hip to pin you in place. Even in your wetness, you could feel how big he was, filling you up so perfectly, and you arched your back against him, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you. His eyes were on you now, and he moved his hands from the wall to your lips, tugging your bottom lip out from between your teeth and issuing you a singular command, his gaze intense.
“I want to hear you.”
Even in your pleasure, you couldn’t stop yourself from obeying a command from your superior officer, and you let out the moans you’d been holding back, tightening your legs around his waist to pull him into you as much as possible, your fingers raking against his back as he fucked you, his hips beginning to move more forcefully against you. His fingers now moved to your hair, brushing the errant strands out of your face and then shifting down to cup your cheek, lifting your face, his voice soft, “Look at me.”
There was no mistaking the utter lust in his gaze when you looked up at him, yet you could also see quite a great deal of tenderness, of genuine care, which only served to heighten your pleasure, your hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you clung to him, desperately grinding your hips against him. He picked up his pace further yet still restrained himself from fully slamming into you, his grip like a vice on your thigh. His voice grew hoarser as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, clearly strained, “Touch yourself.”
In another situation, you might have felt insecure, yet you were entirely awash in lustful pleasure, and so you obeyed, reaching down with one hand to begin rubbing circles around your increasingly sensitive clit, feeling that same build of pleasure in your core as Ghost fucked you faster still, his expression growing more desperate by the second. He leant forward to whisper his final command against your lips.
“Come for me.”
Your body seemed honour-bound to obey him as your pussy clenched around his dick, your pleasure building until it finally crescendoed, with Ghost’s lips crashing onto yours as you finished, his hips moving frantically as he desperately fucked you, his thrusts stuttering as he finally shot his load deep inside you, his body crushing yours into the wall in a tight embrace. Your kisses became softer as the both of you came down from your frenzied high, his grip on your body loosening slightly, your death grip around his neck becoming less deadly.
With a satisfied groan, Ghost let himself sink to the floor, pulling you down along with him into his lap, letting his dick remain inside you as you settled more comfortably on top of him, resting against his chest as he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower back, cradling you against him. After such bodily heat, the comparatively cool water of the shower felt heavenly on your skin, washing away your intermingled sweat.
You probably could have slept there, with Ghost still buried inside you, yet he was not so spellbound. With a gentle movement, he pulled his softening length out of you, reaching over to grab the bottle of soapy liquid he’d left on the floor. Then, he repositioned you so you were now sitting in between his legs, his thick thighs boxing you in as he opened the bottle behind you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, nor did you care, still awash in a pleasant afterglow. The touch of his fingers gently massaging the liquid into your hair was a heavenly surprise, and you practically melted into his hands, a human-sized pile of putty perfectly manipulated by him. He ran his fingers through the length of your hair, thoroughly soaping up every strand before he let the cool water wash away the suds.
Then, he got to work on your body. Never had you been so grateful for three-in-one soap as it meant you didn’t have to miss a second of his warm chest against your back as he began to soap up your body, his fingers incredibly gentle against your skin, paying attention to every single part of you, and then letting you lean back against his chest as the water washed everything away, his arms coming to rest around your waist. Every single care of yours seemed to follow the soap down the train as you relaxed into him, enjoying the way he rested his chin on your head as you closed your eyes, finally entirely at ease.
#jack writes#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod#cod fanfic#cod mw2#ghost mw2#cod fic#cod ghost#ghost smut#cod smut#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley fic#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader
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Hi there! I don’t know why, but this gifset/scene ALWAYS reminds me of a first look for arranged marriage Paul x reader. I wanted to reach out and make a request for your take on something like that!!!
https://www.tumblr.com/inkscriptions/761991097328271360/timoth%C3%A9e-chalamet-as-paul-atreides-dune-part-one
remember, beloved
in which paul atreides sees you for the very first time on the day of your wedding. flashbacks to the first time you ever spoke to him, it being just the two of you. [4.6K]
or ↬ act i of the remember, beloved extended universe.
warnings. fem!reader, strong language, a little bit of angst, my take on the arranged marriage trope, fighting / sparring, a reference to how reader and paul will eventually have sex if you really squint
navigation. send a request.
Drawing in deep breaths through his nose, letting the oxygen that hangs in the air fill his lungs to the very brim, before releasing it back out through his mouth, Paul stands still, almost as if having frozen in time.
His eyes fixed on the far horizon, the picture before him clouded by a thick mist -- glimpses of moisture very much visible to the eye, sliding down the outside surface of his bedroom window in thin, river-like streams. The sunlight nothing more than a faint gleam over it all, for the heavy veil of clouds that rests upon Caladan is nearly impossible for light to push through. Still, just every now and then, Paul can see how the crests of the waves in the ocean glisten like tiny little jewels, when being kissed by the light.
Apart from the dress jacket that still lays untouched on top of his bed, Paul is fully dressed in his ceremonials. His body wrapped in dark green fabrics -- in pieces, that have been carefully tailored to fit him just right; to sit around his shoulders nice and snug, to stretch over the planes of his chest like the forest stretches over Caladan.
There’s a sense of unease holding him in its embrace, making it feel as if the collar of his shirt would slowly, minute by minute, sit tighter and tighter around his neck -- making his fingers itch to reach up there and pull it looser.
A sound of footsteps approaching from somewhere not too far in the distance pulls Paul from his thoughts, right before the voice of Duncan Idaho echoes through his bedroom -- an ever so low rumble, at best, “You doing alright there, my boy?”
“Duncan,” Paul says, tearing his eyes away from the scene that stands proud behind his bedroom window, and turning to face the man addressing him.
He, too, is dressed nice and formal. A military dress uniform resting upon the broad of his frame, the dark fabric nearly black in this light. The Atreides house crest embroidered to his dress jacket, right to the spot where his heart lays underneath. He wears it with pride -- of course he does, for he is known for his loyalty to the Atreides family.
“What’s going on?” Duncan asks, coming to stand before Paul. His features are stern -- a few, deep wrinkles sitting in between his eyebrows, for something close to worry swims in the green of his eyes as he stares down at the young man who he thinks of as his little brother.
“Nothing,” Paul says, a hint of something -- nothing but a joyless smile, really -- washing over his lips. “I’m alright.”
Duncan, knowing that what Paul is telling him isn’t the full truth, but also knowing better than to ask him about it, only hums in an answer. “It’s a big day today,” he then goes on to say, putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze -- a small gesture that on any other given day, Paul would, indeed, find comforting.
“Yeah,” Paul says, nodding once. “I guess it is.”
Duncan is right -- it is a big day today.
Today is the day that Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto Atreides, takes your hand in marriage.
Though Paul has grown up knowing that one day, sooner or later, he will marry not for love, but for something else entirely -- for an union of sorts to be formed in between two Great Houses --, he would be lying if he said that he still, despite his upbringing, didn’t find the idea unsettling. And really, there is no blaming him -- after all, he is about to marry a woman with whom he has spoken alone only once before.
It is late at night, far in the quiet hours beyond dusk, for the training hall of Castle Atreides stands bare of life. There is not a singular soul in sight, nor a singular, faintest trace of a sound of life to be heard. You don’t know it yet, but only in a few, short weeks’ time, you will learn that it is quite the rare occurrence, indeed, to find the training quarters like this; enveloped in such a state of peace and quiet.
A large window, stretching all the way from the ground to the ceiling. Beautiful fixtures set before it, filtering out most of the light that wishes to stream into the room. The moonlight, bright, white and beautiful, only a faint glow when it reaches you -- caresses your forehead and kisses your cheek, all the while tracing your footsteps in the form of a long shadow.
Your feet, all cold and clammy for they are bare, carry you across the room with footsteps so quiet that you barely hear them yourself.
Coming to stand beside a large, oak table, on top of which a collection of all kinds of different swords, knives and shields rests untouched, you think about it -- think about how one day, the stone walls of this castle will be all you know. So foreign and unfamiliar now, yet still something that one day, you will learn to call home.
A part of you wonders if this place, though your home, will ever truly feel like one.
You give your head a slight shake, in hopes that the movement would ease your mind -- that it would strip away the weight that is resting so heavy on your shoulders, that it would soothe the pain that throbs so very persistent on your temples, that it would ease the pressure on your chest that presses so firm against every single breath you take --, only to witness the attempt falling short.
A groan -- a low sound that echoes nothing but frustration -- rumbles somewhere deep inside your throat. And really, though you would never admit it out loud, it feels liberating -- being able to voice your thoughts, even if it is only through something as little as a mere groan.
Being raised better than to act out, up until this very moment, you have not once voiced your frustrations. Not when your parents informed you about the forthcoming union between you and your now betrothed, Paul Atreides, for the very first time, nor when they encouraged you to pack your bags shortly after, for as by their wishes, you were to leave to pay a short, three-day-long visit to Caladan the following day. Not even earlier tonight had you said a word, while sitting at the dinner table together with the Atreides family, discussing matters regarding the quickly approaching wedding that, by the sound of it, will not be a wedding that looks anything like you.
Knitting your eyebrows together, you catch a hold of the knife that lays closest to you, and make your way to a training dummy.
Fingers wrapped around the leather handle of the knife nice and tight, you strike the dummy once, then twice -- the swooshing sound the blade makes as it cuts through the air soon being the only thing you’re able to hear, and for that you are the utmost grateful, for as of now it seems that fighting is the only thing that manages to silence the screams of turmoil that have been haunting your head for days now.
“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” a voice echoes through the training hall. It is a familiar voice, you realize -- or, rather, a voice that you have recently gotten familiar with.
Upon turning around, you are met with the image of your now betrothed, Paul Atreides, standing in the doorframe. Leaning his weight against the casing, wearing nothing but a white tunic and a pair of simple, black trousers, with the raven of his hair a lot messier than you’ve ever seen it before, he almost looks as if he would have rolled out of bed just moments before.
“My lord,” you pay formalities to him with a small nod of your head.
He mirrors you, nodding once, “My lady.”
And for a little while, the two of you sit in silence. Only holding each other’s gazes from the opposite sides of the room, both, unbeknownst to the other, thinking about the exact same thing -- thinking about how this might just be the very first time you are seeing each other, it being just the two of you.
What an odd world it is, indeed, that you live in.
He is the first one to break the silence. “I didn’t take you for a fighter.”
You hum, a hint of a smile washing over your lips. “I’m afraid there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, my lord.”
“Paul,” he says, the tone of his voice calm and kind -- soothing, almost.
A small frown of your eyebrows, for you are not quite certain you heard him right. “I beg your pardon?”
“Paul,” he repeats. “You can call me Paul.”
You press your lips together, a tight, thin-lipped smile raising to adorn them. Though polite, it is still a smile that doesn’t suit anyone -- a smile that couldn’t be anything but the very product of one’s attempt to keep the turmoil of their mind from showing through their features.
“Paul,” you then say, his name nothing but an echo of uncertainty as it falls from your lips. Those four letters unfamiliar in your mouth -- a kind of taste that you are not certain whether you like or not.
He offers you a smile. It’s a nice smile, kind and warm. His parents must have done a better job at raising him than yours did raising you, you figure, for the smile that is now gracing his lips doesn’t look the least bit forced -- something that can’t be said of the one that you wear.
Pushing his weight off the doorframe, back onto his legs, Paul enters the room. Long strides carry him through the vast emptiness of the training hall, before bringing him to a stop beside the great oak table, on top of which rests now an incomplete collection of various different kinds of weapons -- for one of the knives still sits tightly secured inside your fist.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” you start, fingers twiddling with the leather handle of your knife. It has got to be a rather old knife you chose to practice with, you think, for the leather covering of its handle is so very worn-looking -- traces of leather sticking out from here and there. “But if I may ask, what’s got you coming down here this late at night?”
Paul lifts his gaze up to meet yours, something swirling in the bluish-hazel of his eyes -- something that says, The same thing that brought you here, I believe. And yet, though his eyes are saying something very different, he goes on to say, “I couldn’t sleep.”
A part of you wants to ask him about it -- ask him how he feels about all of this --, while another part of you wants to shelve the topic for the rest of your days. Seal it away in a lockbox and drop it to the bottom of the ocean -- a conversation to be never thought of again.
Another silence falls upon the two of you. It isn’t an uncomfortable one, but quite the opposite, actually. Something warm lingering in the air, as you share the room with the only person in the entire known universe who is going through the exact same thing you are.
“So, Paul,” you then say, his name still nothing but an odd, unfamiliar taste on your tongue. “You wanna go a few rounds?”
Paul raises his eyebrows, a somewhat questioning look etching onto his features. “So you are a fighter, then?”
You chuckle, a hint of an amused smile washing over your lips right before you go on to tell him, “I can hold my own.”
Paul is looking at you now -- like, really looking at you. He hasn’t seen you like this before.
Dressed in all-black clothing, a loose tunic and a matching pair of trousers resting upon your frame. A couple beads of sweat glistening on your forehead, and a few more running down your temples in thin, current-like streams. A small pendant only faintly visible from this far, for it sits partially under the collar of your shirt -- right there, where your collarbones are only inches from meeting. Paul doesn’t know it yet, but that very pendant, has nothing but your family’s house crest engraved to it, and thus makes it the only piece of clothing you never strip.
Truth be told, Paul doesn’t think that he has ever seen any woman, of any Great House, like this.
Paul hums, as if deep in thought, and dons his shield. Flashes of blue light lingering around his figure for a mere moment, before vanishing to thin air. His eyes never leaving yours, for he finds the challenge that twinkles just right there, in the corner of your eye, somewhat captivating.
“We’ll see about that,” he says, smiling now, as he rounds the table with a knife in his hand.
A laugh -- a real, serene one -- bubbles somewhere deep inside your chest. You don’t think about it now, but if you were to, you would realize that this is the first laugh anyone has heard coming from you in days.
“You’re funny, Paul Atreides,” you say, smiling now too. Mirroring him, you come to stand in the middle of the training mat, donning your shield -- something blue flashing before your eyes, a low buzzing sound to be heard in your ears, as a protective energy shield forms around you.
It is just then, as Paul takes a fighting stance, his gaze still holding onto yours, that he thinks it -- for things to be as they are, this isn’t a bad start.
You lunge towards him, your blade crashing against his. Knives firmly pressed against one another, the two of you stay still for a mere moment, only squinting your eyes, as if contemplating each other’s next moves.
It’s refreshing, you think -- fighting someone you have never fought before.
And soon, the state of peace and quiet that once rested upon the training hall of Castle Atreides, is long gone. Replaced with the sounds of blades clashing together time after time again -- each strike harder, more furious than the last.
You are quickly informed of the skill of your betrothed. He is quick in his movements -- smart, too. It’s almost as if every single move of his, even the smallest twitch of one of his muscles, was carefully measured out before coming to life right before your eyes. God, he makes it all look so easy, too -- he must have spent hundreds, if not thousands of hours within the four walls of this very room, you figure, for suddenly you find it difficult to hold your own.
It is only a matter of minutes before the both of you are out of breath.
Heart beating fast -- thumping against your ribs with such force that it damn near makes you dizzy. The muscles that sit on top of your chest aching as they’re being stretched to their very breaking point with every breath you draw in, lungs screaming for more air -- for more oxygen. Sweat running down the back of your neck, your sides -- hell, even your hands are sweaty now, for holding your knife feels now harder than it did before.
You put up a good fight, Paul thinks, receiving a kick straight to his ribs. Everything your muscles have to give, straight through the sole of your foot -- air being pushed out of his lungs, leaving him breathless for a good few seconds.
“That’s rude,” he says, spinning his knife around his wrist once, then twice, before going for a strike.
“Perhaps,” you say, your knife clashing against his, a screeching sound to be heard as the blades of your knives scrape against each other. “But all’s fair in love and war, isn’t it?”
“Mhm,” Paul simply hums in an answer, something close to intrigue etching across the entirety of his irises.
Not once did you think that you would actually have it in you to best Paul Atreides in a fight, but losing to him so quickly wasn’t what you were expecting either. He is swift in his movements -- using his blade to push your upper body away from him, all the while his leg moves to knock yours from underneath you.
And so he has got you.
His forearm pressed firm against your chest, holding you in place -- unwavering despite the very best of your efforts trying to wriggle yourself free. Every inch of your back soon forced flat against the mat, for it seems the more you struggle, the better of a hold he gets of you. Your shield now flashing red under his blade, as there is nothing more than the thin fabric of your tunic left in between the tip of his knife and your skin.
Really, you are no match for Paul. A panting mess underneath him. Beads of sweat glistening on every part of the little of your skin that is exposed -- a few of them hanging onto your lashes, even. The tiny muscles in your jaw aching now, too, from gritting your teeth together so damn hard -- just another reminder of just how good of a fight this man put up.
“I have you,” he then says. His tone is lower now, more husky, for he too is out of breath.
You don’t say anything, but only let your grip loosen over the handle of your knife. Paul drops his knife, too -- and just like that, the fight is over.
Backing away, Paul proceeds to offer you his hand. His fingers all hot and sweaty, his grip tight around the palm of your hand, as he pulls you up to sit beside him. The training hall falling silent again -- the only sounds soon to be heard echoing through the room being the ones caused by both, your and his heavy breathing.
It is here, that you get a good look at him -- get a good look at the sharp of his features, at the high of his cheekbone, at the crisp of his jawline. It’s almost as if he was carefully carved out of clay, you think, by someone whose touch is nothing less than ever so precise.
He looks beautiful. He really does. Though, given the circumstances, you are not entirely sure if you should be thinking that.
“You okay?” you then ask him, something warm and kind laced to the tone of your voice -- something that wasn’t there before.
Paul chuckles, not even a fraction of joy to be seen on his features. “I think I should be the one asking you that,” he says. “I mean -- I’m home, at least.”
Your chest tightens at the reminder. It is an odd thought; having the Castle Atreides as your home, instead of the one you grew up in -- instead of the place that holds all the memories dearest to your heart.
Not really knowing what to say, you stay silent. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, working on chewing it raw -- the iron-like tang there is to the taste of blood soon prickling the tip of your tongue.
Paul looks at you, his eyes searching your features. Something different in the way his eyes look now -- not just two, infinite pools stained with all different shades of blue and hazel, but something more; something that almost looks as if he was feeling sorry for you. Maybe in some ways he is.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Paul then goes on to say. What he thinks, but doesn’t say, is, And when you come back, it is for us to get married. The thought still doesn’t sit quite right with him.
“Yeah,” you say, holding on to your breath for a while, before adding, “It’s weird, you know -- all of this.”
Paul nods, listening.
“I don’t like it,” you then say.
He hums, a subtle smile etching onto the pink of his lips. It is nice talking to you about this -- like this. “Me neither.”
The two of you sit in silence for a while. Only eyeing each other carefully, something serene lingering in the air -- a new found understanding, perhaps. Two people -- nothing but strangers to each other, really -- realizing that all this time, they have understood each other better than anyone else ever could.
“I hope we can make it work,” he says quietly. He doesn’t mean his words in the sense that he hopes the two of you will fall in love, for he knows it is unlikely for one to fall in love with someone they’re being forced upon, but in the sense that he hopes you can live alongside each other -- to continue to understand each other.
And it is just then, that you think it, too -- for things to be as they are, this isn’t a bad start.
“Maybe we’ll find a way,” you muse, a soft smile on your lips.
Paul hums, smiling now too. “Maybe we’ll find a way.”
Duncan sighs -- a heavy, rustling thing --, for the older brother that lives inside of him hates seeing Paul like this; lost somewhere deep in thought, far away from where he needs to be -- far away from where one is able to make things happen.
“She seems alright,” he then goes on to say, something like reassurance woven into the tone of his voice -- a gentle reminder of how he will always be standing there, right beside Paul, come what may.
“Yeah,” Paul says quietly. “She is alright.”
He means it, he really does -- you are alright. Though, he is fairly certain that given the kind of upbringing you have had, it would’ve been practically impossible for you to have turned out anything less, than alright.
Long, heavy strides carry Duncan across the room. Coming to stand by the edge of Paul’s bed, he bends down at the waist just enough so that he is able to reach out and catch a hold of the dress jacket of Paul’s ceremonials that still rests there, upon his unmade bed, untouched. The fabric freshly cleaned and pressed, almost coarse-feeling in between his fingers.
“C’mon, my boy,” he says, holding the jacket open for Paul. “It’s go time.”
A sigh falling from Paul’s lips, too, right before he goes on to slip into the dress jacket that Duncan is holding up for him.
And really, it is quite the nice moment the two of them share here -- a big brother of sorts, helping his little one get dressed before what is arguably going to be one of the biggest moments of his life; fastening the buttons of his jacket for him and smoothing the fabric over with the palms of his hands, and to finish it all off, hitting Paul to the plane of his chest in a playful manner -- a small gesture, yes, yet still something that perfectly portrays their relationship.
It is not too long after, that Paul finds himself standing outside the Castle Atreides. On the edge of a cliff, looking over Caladan as it stands there, proud before him, in all its glory -- a picture ever so green and gloomy, stretching as far as the eye can see. The ocean opening vast behind him, furious in its movements, for the wind has gotten a hold of the waves -- has gotten them crashing against the shore time after time again, each time seemingly more aggressive than the last.
It is a subtle, yet elegant setting -- a true testament to the fact that a marriage among two Great Houses serves more as a political proposition, than anything else. The castle grounds decorated with shades of dark green and blue, reflecting the beauty of the oceanic, forest-filled planet that is Caladan, the home of House Atreides. Flags with the family’s crest embroidered to them dancing to a rhythm set by the wind -- a reminder to everyone present, upon whose ground they are standing.
Paul’s heart is beating hard against his ribs, moving to a cadence so relentless that it has got even the very tips of his fingers feeling warm, despite it being quite cold out here this time of year. His chest feels tight, too -- though, truth be told, his chest has felt tight for quite some time now.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Duke Leto Atreides says from behind him, his tone low and firm.
Turning his head to the side, just ever so slightly, Paul glances at his father over his shoulder. His features are stern, not even a fraction of emotion showing through them. Duke Leto Atreides really is that kind of a man -- a man, who is difficult to get a read on at all times, no matter how close you are with him.
Paul simply nods in an answer, not saying anything.
Upon turning his head back to face forwards, Paul is met with the image of you walking towards him. Still quite far in the distance, for he can’t see much else than your figure just yet. Body wrapped in white, silky material that reaches all the way down to your ankles -- kissing the grass with each and every one of your steps. What is perhaps the longest veil ever seen following you like a white shadow, bright against the gloom that sits upon Caladan.
Your father is there, too. Walking by your side, glad to have been able to show up for you on a day such as this. His arm extended out for you to have something to hold on to -- your fingers curled around his forearm tight as ever, for the fabric of his dress jacket is now all wrinkled from your touch.
Breathing in, for that is all Paul knows to do, he can almost feel the sea salt prickling his nose. The scent of the ocean thick and rich in the air -- moisture clinging to oxygen, the feel of air soothing as it enters his lungs.
And soon, it is just you and Paul. Standing opposite each other on the edge of a cliff, about to jump head first into something that neither of you have ever experienced before. A few, short feet’ distance between your bodies, for Paul can see you clear now -- can see the way your veil flows around your face with movements much like those of the ocean on a quiet day. Can see the way the fabric of your dress slopes off your shoulders, leaving them bare. Can see the way your chest rises high only to fall down low soon after, as you let air flow in and out of your lungs -- the pendant that still sits there, in the spot right between your collarbones, glistening under the faint sunlight.
For suddenly there is a lump in his throat. One that doesn’t move, not even an inch, when he swallows, but rather feels as if it would only press against his airways harder, keeping him from getting a nice, deep breath in.
You look beautiful. You are beautiful.
A fanfare erupts from somewhere not too far in the distance, signaling that the ceremony has begun. Everything falling quiet right after -- a kind of silence that carries a sense of calm and peace in its presence settling upon the grounds of Castle Atreides, like an invisible, weighted blanket.
And it is just then, when you raise your eyes up to meet his, that Paul sees it, clear as day -- something in the ever-expanding infinity of your eyes that says, We’ll find a way.
author's note : thank you for this request, sweet anon! this was SO much fun to write! kinda want to do a part two now where they get busy for the first time :’) please let me know all your thoughts! kisses!
#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides x you#paul atreides imagine#paul atreides fanfic#paul atreides fic#paul atreides#dune imagine#dune fic#dune fanfiction#timothée chalamet#my writings
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Why You're Wrong About Rachel Zegler
This is a long post, but there's a lot of context missing from the Rachel Zegler "discourse" that I thought I could add with my history of watching this unfold from the beginning.
The Snow White Thing
You probably know this part. There's a curated video of Rachel going viral, framed to make her seem like she's never seen Snow White, she hates the story, she hates the character, she's ungrateful, and single-handedly ruined Disney's brand. The clips from these videos are not new— they were released nearly a year ago in September 2022 and nobody cared about them at the time. Why? Because all the full interviews she did that day at the Disney Exo in 2022 showed a young, charming woman who was excited and proud to be cast in an iconic role. The interviews were very well received and it was a non story. Now that it's been edited down and cut together in a malicious way, and the people sharing them are purposefully misquoting her, they've twisted the context. Normally, this would be a non controversy. Even if that video wasn't taken out of context and spliced together to make her seem like she hates the film, most people wouldn't care. The issue is the response to the video.
Let's get this out of the way: Rachel Zegler doesn't hate Snow White. She relayed that she was afraid of the forest scene as a child and didn't revisit it again until after she was cast in the role. She has since then watched it several times and has expressed for YEARS before that interview came out that she was incredibly honored and grateful to be playing such an iconic Disney princess. If you watch the full videos that those clips came from, this comes across immediately to anyone with their own mind. If you hate someone for being scared of something as a child, I don't know what to tell you. If the role was being given to the biggest Snow White fan, you would be correct that she doesn't deserve it. Unfortunately for you, this role requires talent and Rachel has the Golden Globe and critical acclaim from people who matter within the industry (her peers and critics).
You know who does hate their beloved characters in beloved franchises but the general public still applauds them? Harrison Ford, Sean Connery, Daniel Craig, and Robert Pattinson. They've all expressed outright contempt for the roles and the films they were part of, but nobody cared. People had fun with their quotes but they still respected them. Rachel said nothing even closely resembling their remarks, but she's being torn to shreds. Are we seeing a pattern here?
Rachel never said a single bad thing about the character or the animated film— she said that it was outdated and that set people over the edge, foaming at the mouth to have her burned at the stake. If you think it would be perfectly fine to have a movie about an abused 14 year old girl run away to play housemaid for a bunch of men, get kissed in her sleep/death by an adult man, and then wake up to fall into his arms in 2024, that's certainly a hot take. If you're against remakes, direct your ire at Disney. But if you truly think that plot would work with young girls today, you're the one who's out of touch. It would do far more harm than good to portray a young woman in that light.
She also never said that there was anything wrong with romance or love. She said that the new Snow White wasn't only dreaming of that. I can't stress enough that this wasn't her decision… she was describing the plot of the new film that was written by Greta Gerwig and approved by Disney. There's a prince in the film and he will also have a more developed personality and storyline. If you have a problem with the writing, wait until it comes out so you can write your strongly worded letter to Greta. If you have a problem with the concept in general, take it up with Disney. There's no need for you to be defensive over hurting the legacy of a multi-billion dollar company or a 87 year old cartoon written by a proud racist antisemite. This is the most confusing part of the hate campaign to me because it wasn't even her opinion— she was literally describing the plot of the film she had nothing to do with. It also isn't a new thing. Disney actors have been promoting their newer films this way for years.
It's perfectly okay to like things that are problematic. It's becoming an issue that we refuse to acknowledge that maybe some things we love are harmful. What we can't do is justify why it's not problematic, and in fact everyone who calls it out is the problem and NOT their precious cartoon. The 1937 Snow White was an amazing feat of animation. It's a classic for a reason. But it was also Hitler's favorite film and was directed by a white supremacist (the one who is "rolling in his grave" due to Rachel's existence, according to his son). Things don't exist in a vacuum and we can't ignore the bad parts.
How We Got Here:
The thing that everyone is missing is the source of this campaign. This started in September of 2020 when transphobic actor Gina Carano made fun of trans people by changing her pronouns to beep/bop.boop. Rachel indirectly called her out by coming to the defense of the trans community.
She never called out Gina by name (though she rightfully could have). Mind you, Rachel's first film hadn't come out yet. Nobody knew who she was outside of those of us who were anticipating West Side Story and were fans of her covers on YouTube. She was a "nobody" in the industry. Take this part with a grain of salt because I can't confirm it, but Gina and her fans directly blame Rachel for her being banned from Twitter. Again, I really don't think that matters as she's harmful to the trans community and shouldn't have a platform. What does matter is that fans of Gina (which, let's be real, are just fans of transphobia) have been stalking Rachel's every move since then. Unfortunately for them, there wasn't much they could use against her other than to call her woke and #snowbrown when she was cast a year later as the Disney princess. The noise has always been there, but unless you were a fan of hers, you probably didn't hear about it. It wasn't until two years after this that they had something else against her.
If you've recently seen a video of Rachel crying circulating that claims to be her reaction to the recent Snow White backlash, it's an old video. It's from a vlog from her youtube channel posted in June 2022. It was in response to these exact same transphobic anti-woke conservatives who thought that they had something when she did an interview on the red carpet of the Shazam premiere. When asked why she joined the DC universe, she responded "I needed a job." It was generally well received by most people who thought it was cute and funny, but those who were waiting in the shadows latched onto it as an excuse to send her death threats.
The video was also about a month after she was invited to present at the 2022 Oscars and was made to seem like she bullied the Academy (as a no name newcomer, mind you) into letting her attend. In reality, a fan left a comment on her Instagram asking what she was wearing to the event. She responded that she wasn't invited but would be rooting for everyone from her couch in her boyfriend's pajamas. It was the public who demanded she get an invite and the Oscar's must have agreed that it was very odd that the lead actress of a film that was nominated for Best Film wouldn't get an invite. Whether it was an oversight on their part or a scheduling issue with Rachel's filming, I truly think there was no malicious intent from either party. Keep in mind, she used to be very active with her fans (she's a huge fangirl of things herself and has always had a strong relationship with her fans) and she wasn't used to her comments becoming articles and national tv segments. This was the first time it happened to her. It appears she learned that she's not just a girl who posts on YouTube anymore and she's going to be put under a microscope for every move she makes. She has since shut down her Instagram comments and rarely interacts with fans outside of liking comments these days because of this.
I know this is long, but I need people to understand where this is all coming from. It didn't just happen out of nowhere. It's an orchestrated campaign built by violent conservatives, and thousands of women who saw Barbie this summer are hopping on the bandwagon to beat another woman into submission because they have a lot of internalized misogyny to deal with. She's not smug, you just hate women. It's okay to find people annoying, but it's valuable to look into why you think that. If you see a confident young woman expressing views that don't actually harm anyone and you think she needs to be "humbled" and "put in her place" by the entire internet dogpiling her, you've lost your mind. Using "body language experts" (fake job) to diagnose her as a psychopath is so vile. Everytime someone mentions her name online, the comments beneath it are full of the most violent, misogynistic, racist things I've ever seen. If you're contributing to that, you've chosen your side. Reevaluate or seek help.
I'm tired of seeing this happen to young women. We let this happen to Jennifer Lawrence, Brie Larson, Millie Bobby Brown, Halle Bailey, and Jenna Ortega. It's one thing to call out celebrities and hold them accountable when they're doing something actively harmful, but that's not what this is about. That's never been what this is about. We pick these girls to pieces and examine them and pull them apart to justify our hatred of young women who rise to success too quickly for our liking. We dogpile and try to stamp out the flame before they burn too bright. Barbie is still in theaters and you all loved it, yet you're demanding that a bright girl with a big future be small and submissive and humbled because you have issues. That's not feminism. You're just the girls who would have bullied Weird Barbie for using her hands too much when she talks.
#rachel zegler#snow white#disney#barbie#rachelzegler#there's also misinformation about her standing up for ansel elgort which isn't true#sorry but she hates that man#you're thinking about ariana debose who defended him#we'll get into that later
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I’m not sure if you already answered this but why is Lorne disliked? You mention that his coloring isn’t the chief reason
Also does Lorne like the reader in a platonic or potentially romantic way? I’m only asking because I wonder how Lorne would react to the reader coming up to him and asking for a blessing to pursuit a romantic relationship with someone ô_ô
Love your work!!! Thank you!!
They kind of know he's not really... all there. His mother is also to blame for some of it too. He was conceived while she was already in a courtship with another male, which is extremely looked down upon in a species that typically pairs for life. Even though Lorne had nothing to do with his mother's infidelity, the fact that he was the product of it makes him perceived as tainted.
I would say he just likes you in general, whether that's platonically or romantically depends on the scenario. It wouldn't matter much though because he's not sharing you either way. You're his little worshipper and frankly he'd start spiraling if you held someone else to the same importance.
here's a drabble to expand on it more (took so long to answer bc I kept rewriting this)
cw: gore
✂┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
"What’s going on?"
Cool night air brushed past you in a hurry, the breeze taking with it the unorthodox scent of iron and melted ice. Far above hung the pale moon, gazing down like a witness to what was occurring, clusters of stars accompanying it in its judgement. Your question was left unanswered by a few moments of tense silence.
“This is your beloved?” came a quiet voice from above you, so slightly hesitant as it asks. An excited nod was your response as you directed your attention towards the person on the other side of the trees. The man remained unaware of the presence watching, merely believing you had taken him on a night walk and had disappeared to search for something beyond the forest line.
The being beside you spread his wings a small degree, the white feathers appearing nearly iridescent when hit by wandering moonlight.
"And you asked for my approval. There is one thing that must be shown before I can offer that." He answered, gently tilting your head to the scene before you. "Watch. If you are still together by the end of the night, then you will have my approval."
You would've found such a proposal suspicious had you not trusted Lorne, the angel, with your life. That's why you had asked in the first place for him to bless your union; surely, he would guide you in the right direction. Not far from where your beloved stood was a cave. Your angel seemed rather adamant at bringing him here.
It wasn’t long before you heard deep growls echoing from within the dark hole. A lump formed in your throat. It was during this time of the year that bears searched for their last meals before their long sleep. You had never stumbled upon one yourself, but you knew from others that there were some that roamed the forest, highly territorial creatures they were.
Your suspicions were proven right as a beast lumbered out of the cavernous shadows, nearly as dark as the place it emerged from. Your lover remained unknowing of the threat approaching, his back turned to the path in wait for you.
You wanted to call out, to warn him of the danger that was coming upon him with a ferocious snarl, revealing teeth longer than your hand. A pleading expression enveloped your face as you looked up to Lorne, “Please-”
He hushed you with a far too large hand over your lips, but it was too late by then.
The bear launched itself at the man with a final roar, though the time for warning had long since passed. He couldn’t even turn around fully to face the creature before it got ahold of his arm, tearing it nearly clean off. The scream he emitted then would haunt you. Never had you heard a man wail like that, the wail of a man watching his own flesh be torn and eaten in front of him. Oh, there was so much blood spurting from the stump, yet that was only the beginning of it.
He attempted to scramble backwards, but the removal of one of his limbs distorted his balance, causing him to collapse on his side. The bear saw an opening, large jaws revealing those wicked teeth stained red, bits of skin caught in between them. It latched onto his side, shaking him around like a ragdoll in its maw. There was a terrible choking noise as the bear’s teeth punctured his lungs, and finally you could take it no more.
You pushed past the dense brush from where you were positioned. Lorne made no move to stop your mad dash towards the mauling of your lover, eerily silent at what had happened.
It was a foolish idea, yes, but you couldn’t just stand and watch as his cries for help died. You picked up a stick, throwing it to the bear to get its attention. Anything to draw it away from the poor soul it was torturing. With a sickly crunch, the bear dropped the surely deceased corpse of the one you had adored, now hardly recognizable as a mass of badly desecrated flesh. Its angry eyes looked towards you first before its whole body lurched itself in your direction.
Bloody matted fur and flesh decorated teeth was what you assumed would be your last image before closing your eyes, expecting the same fate as your lover to become of you.
A few seconds passed, then a minute, the sensation of ripping limbs never gracing you.
When you found the courage to open your eyes, the bear was before you; its head was snapped all the way backwards. A shaky exhale came from your chest, tears beginning to blur your eyes as the adrenaline and grief still coincided.
“Oh. What a pity. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Lorne’s voice trailed on monotonously, clearly uncaring of the gruesome slaughter that had just occurred. It was disorienting at times how soothing it was when it really should've disturbed you. The tears finally released themselves then, a quiet sob wracking your body.
“You see, had I not been there, who would’ve protected you from such a threat?” He came closer to where you were trembling on the ground, hurling the bear corpse away from you.
“The one you had chosen was inadequate. Don’t spill such sorrow over something that would’ve died eventually.” He said, in what you assumed was supposed to be a reassuring way, yet the tears didn’t stop.
He frowned at your mourning. Your shaken form was lifted into his arms as your eyes remained glued to the explosion of guts that seeped into the forest floor.
“You don’t need to worry,” he muttered into your hair, “I’ll find you another one.”
He spoke so calmly, his words a halfhearted attempt at consolation. All you could think about was how brutal God could be.
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All of the art I did for this year's Camp Weehawken!! 😊 This year both mainverse Audrey Grace AND 8 yr old Audrey Grace were at summer camp and they even got to meet each other LMAO but that's the beauty and magic of Weehawken for ya. I had a marvelous time rping with peeps, read more below for context and credits!
Numbers correspond to the order of the pics!
1) A braid train!! Audrey is braiding her younger self's hair while Entre (@straycalamities) is braiding hers. The grownups are have a heartfelt convo about hair and childhood and identity, meanwhile baby Audrey is thinking about revolution. 2) Audrey realizing she's going to get a STAR STICKER!! for being a good little helper to Entre, who was her cabin counselor for the 2nd year in a row. c: 3) A bad day for little Audrey!! She saw something scary (a grown-up glared at her) and then she almost died in a freak blizzard accident because Beth her beloved art counselor was having a panic attack. 4) Big Audrey in her camp dance outfit! I wanted to try dusky sunset colours...this dress has pockets and if you look closely you can see it's also great for hiding knives underneath. Would you dance with her? 🥺🫴 5) Small Audrey in her summerween outfit! She was a little angel to match her Auntie Miru's death god outfit...😌 Audrey wishes she had real wings so she can fly far, far away. 6) A crayon drawing by kid Audrey...last summer she tried to run away from camp and then she caught a cold and in her delirium she ran into two fairy people in the forest who were having a picnic by the waterfall. She thinks it might've been a fever dream and she never forgot about it (in reality it was adult Bean and Audrey on a picnic outing haha). Bean belongs to @lemonine 7) Audrey dressed up as Elphaba from Wicked for the summerween event! P: Here she is sitting down on some porch steps after taking off her hat. She's having an existential hour talk with Som the camp nightguard, Som was having doubts about his life so Audrey shows him a warm smile first to reassure him. 8) This sequence was inspired by a scene from one of my favourite movies, "In This Corner of the World" (the extended cut!). ;w; For this rp Audrey and Bean (@lemonine) were catching up and reconciling...there's too much context to explain but basically Audrey thinks it's important to support your friends no matter what heartache you might be feeling. Hiding her sadness is her core character trait, I think..! They're wearing life jackets because they were on a rowboat :3
#camp weehawken#audtree#onceler#the lorax#audrey grace#counselorentre#bp simons#thank you for reading if you did!!#gif
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A very Crosshair Character Analysis
I posted a poll the other day looking for some opinions, and the prompt was: does Crosshair ever truly miss a shot? Meaning, of all the shots we’ve seen him aim and fire, how many of the few that didn’t land, were intended not to land? Does Crosshair have the skill and ability to land every shot he takes, and what of the ones that go astray (because there are some!)? The overarching, collective opinion (77% of votes) is that the sniper only misses a shot when he intends to, but let me explain why I was asking— the "methods behind my madness," if you will… (Fasten your seatbelts, and keep all extremities— and pitchforks— inside the ride!)
If Crosshair “doesn’t miss”, then there are some things that demand consideration and possible explanation. Please accept this weird internet essay as a deep dive into Crosshair’s character based solely on how I perceived his actions throught season one and two, and opinions I formed while watching his character develop. And while this could not be a Tech-approved analysis without touching on both his perceived good qualities and “flaws”, please know this is not a hate-on-Crosshair post.
Before I get into specifics, I think it’s imperative that we establish a basic understanding of his personality before the chip’s activation. While there is, sadly, not much “footage” we can use to form a true characterization of him, there are some instances we can touch on. The Skako/Anaxes arc from TCW and the earliest few moments of “Aftermath”, Crosshair is shown to be quite sarcastic, uninterested in trivial conversation, measurably combative toward those with differing opinions to his (seemingly all regs, including but not limited to Kix and Jesse), moderately argumentative toward leadership outside of his own Sergeant (mainly Rex, as Crosshair seems to have no qualms following Anakin’s or Cody’s orders), comforting to those who need it (Echo), and an overall good tactical team player.
So, let’s start this analysis by dialling things way back to their mission on Kaller and the complications that arose once Order-66 had been dropped. More specifically, hunting Caleb down in the forest. One of the things I noticed upon first watching that scene and every re-watch since, is how often Crosshair toggles back and forth between blaster bolt and stun cartridge on his rifle, as if constantly battling the indecision of exactly how he wanted to detain the Jedi. Now, if you remember, Tech com’s in and basically says [paraphrased obviously]: “Shit is starting to his the fan, we better get our butts outta here,” to which Hunter responds: “Can’t. Haven’t found the kid yet.” Crosshair then chimes in with, what I have long-deemed to be his catch phrase: “Wrong,” and proceeds to shoot the branch that Caleb is perched on. Not Caleb, who, in Crosshair's mind, should be the rightful recipient of a kill shot… the branch. Hmmmm.
If every one of Crosshair’s shots is so masterfully aimed that its deemed an automatic hit, and thus every miss is intentional (a notion of which I also believe, less one particular shot which I’ll touch on a little later), then there would’ve had to have been a portion of Crosshair’s cognition overriding that Order-66 command to eradicate all Jedi, even if it was only enough to fleetingly switch his gun to stun.
Not long afterward, we see his beloved Firepuncher saber-whacked from his hands, and Crosshair opts to then continue his attack with his backup DC17. Missed shot, missed shot, missed shot, missed shot. Were these blown shots intentional as well? And if so, why does he continue to assail the Padawan? Is Crosshair only able to fight off the command to kill Caleb while his finger is on the trigger, possibly knowing that’s when the fight against his own mind becomes most crucial? Is he clinging to some autonomy in the moments where he’s not posing an imminent threat to those around him, like during the flight back to Kamino? Or can he only resist the chip’s influence when the urge to do something terrible is paramount?
Let’s skip ahead, shall we, to when the Batch is attempting to flee Kamino with Omega. Crosshair sashays onto the landing platform in his new gothboy armour, fresh out of an undescribed chip “augmentation” procedure (whatever that eludes to), and proceeds to have a small stand off with Hunter— both of whom have their weapons directed pointedly away from each other (interesting). During the succeeding fire fight, we see Crosshair line up several well aimed shots, many of which appear to be only inches away from landing on their “intended target”. He eventually succeeds in shooting Wrecker in the shoulder, and I’d like to point out that this shot lands almost exactly where Wrecker was hit by the training droid some hours/days previously. Was the placement of this shot intentional? Did Crosshair pick that particular target area knowing Wrecker would survive the damage?
The shot I find most intriguing is the one near-perfectly aimed at Hunter’s head (lol— brothers). You know, the one where Omega saves the day by unexpectedly blasting Crosshair’s rifle out of his hands. If the chip's activation was the reason he was now hunting them and claiming their treason, why had that moment seen him hesitate? Perhaps he needed a second to line up his shot, you might argue to which I would say argue: we’ve seen him use the active recoil from that same rifle to line up his next shot many times in quick succession with a zero margin of error (see the Skako/Anaxes arc in TCW and the first few minutes of Kaller), including when each shot was aimed at targets both more dynamic in action and further away than Hunter was.
Crosshair then takes several shots at the ramp of the Marauder as they take off, all of which are well aimed… and simultaneously redundant; the passengers are taking cover in the ship already, the Marauder has begun its take off, the ramp is closing, Crosshair running whilst knowing he can’t reach them. I personally attribute those last few shots as tokens of both anger and resentment for being left behind, not ones made with the intention of killing. I think that he expected his brothers to know him better than to believe these actions were of sound mind— he thought they’d be able to deduce that he was fighting a losing battle inside his own head, yet they were quick to believe he would actually entertain such sudden and aggressive hostilities toward them.
At this point, you might be itching to argue that maybe Crosshair's accuracy is largely diminished when he opts for a pistol instead of his rifle, and while I can't dispell this theory, I can provide some statistics. We see Crosshair use a pistol only four times in the entirety of the show so far: 1. against Caleb on Kaller (objective miss), 2. against the Batch Batch as their leaving Kamino (objective miss), 3. against a soldier while he and his new elite soldier squad infiltrate Saw's camp (direct hit), and 4. against Leiutenant Nolan when that asshole he gets on Crosshair's last nerve at the Outpost (direct hit). I will leave it up to you to decide if the theory of whether his skill level changes based on the weapon he's firing holds any merit, or is worth further discussion.
Moving on— the 99-clan is reunited on Bracca. Let’s turn our attention to the shot Crosshair takes at Tech whilst the latter was emerging from the ion engine, and I’m going to include pics this time to support my assertion.
Crosshair has an undeniably clear shot— his line of sight is not impeded, there are no environmental or atmospheric disturbances to disrupt his composure, he was ready and waiting for them to appear. The shot that he fires lands a good distance in front of Tech. Though the unexpectedness of it was enough to startle the genius into nearly falling out of the engine, I believe it was intentionally aimed this way (see below). A warning shot if you will. A “Hello, I outsmarted you and am waiting at your point of attempted escape. Stop trying, and get down here because I don’t want my new imperial cohorts to take aim for me and kill you” shot.
The next arc (Ryloth) quickly demonstrates that any neurological augmentations he’s been subject to (at this point, I believe we've been shown two, but have been led to believe there were several), have had no effect on Crosshair’s infamous sniper skills. First, he fires a perfectly aimed tracking beacon onto the moving target of Gobi’s ship. Then, upon the ship’s return, uses a single shot to disable one of the engines; a shot taken from, what appears to be, several kilometres away and having the immediate desired affect of disabling the ship. Finally, he makes the astoungingly precise shot (and I’m using astoundingly very heavily here) of blasting Senator Taa in the head. This shot, more than the previously mentioned two, are a sign of his impeccable marksmanship. Let me remind you, he was an undisclosed albeit very far distance away, on the opposite ridge of an enshadowed canyon, and is still able to shoot the senator in a place in which HE WOULD SURVIVE the attack. And not just survive, “make a full recovery” as Rampart claims afterward. This is unrivalled accuracy, and while I do not support the assassination attempt in itself, I can not deny how much skill was required to have achieved it.
My next point is something I have always personally found quite compelling, and it occurs in an off-the-cuff, likely forgotten about piece of dialogue.
Brief context: Crosshair has scooped Hunter off of Daro, they’ve landed on Kamino, and the duo (and a third soldier) are on their way to the Command Center to await the rest of the squads arrival. One of Crosshair’s elite troopers waits until he departs the platform before approaching Rampart and saying: “I question the clone’s motives with his old squad. I don’t trust any of them.” I’m intrigued to know where such a potent mistrust began. Is it simply because he’s a clone? A person born and raised unnaturally in comparison to someone with a traditional gestation and upbringing? Or has this soldier previously identified possible cracks in Crosshair’s imperial facade? Has Crosshair failed to hide his distress in quiet moments where he possibly longs for the life he had with his brothers? What is it that triggers this soldier to suspect Crosshair has an ulterior motive in capturing his old squad, and one that they’re apparently worried would not coincide with Rampart’s ideals?
Ramparts reply, in my opinion, gives us a well disguised clue: “If his plan fails, none of them will be a problem any longer.” If his plan fails. Crosshair’s plan. Crosshair has a plan for mobilizing his old family into one place, and what is it? Is he concealing the hidden objective of a reunion with his brothers under the guise of squad assassination? Was it always his plan to eliminate his new elite squad members, hence the perfectly placed mirror pucks we see him utilize in the training room, to make room for his old squad?
Remember, Hunter asks him some time later: “So this was your grand plan? Bring us here and kill us?” Crosshair answers: “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” And this is a statement which I believe to be incontrovertibly true. He has never wanted his family dead, despite having both the resources and skill to ensure they would be if that’s what he desired, but no. He’s angry that he’d inherently felt more loyalty to them than they had shown to him; frustrated that their choices post-Kaller did not align with his expectations of their choices, disheartened that they hadn't initially recognized to his choices to be ones made outside his character, and Crosshair now eagerly rebuffs their every excuse. Reference the spoken: “They don’t leave their own behind… most of the time.” . . . “You tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice.” . . . “And I did?”
And follows the: “We’re loyal to each other, not some empire.” . . . “You weren’t loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you what you never gave me: a chance…” conversation. (Just stab me in the heart and twist the knife around, Jennifer!!!! Ouch!!! I'm still not over this!)
Was this his plan? To lure his brothers back to their home, and indirectly beg them to join the empire? To offer them the chance to join the ranks of those who have relentlessly hunted them, in the hopes that there might be some semblance of safety in conformity? To reunite the elite squad that they were in the days of the Republic (the original elite squad of which Rampart is trying to replicate with tactically inferior recruited bodies), simply for the safety that joining the empire could potentially promise? Is this the first demonstration of Crosshair using hostility to shield those he cares about from the callous clutches of the empire that he’d become painfully familiar with?
Regardless of the still-unexplained motive, Crosshair’s plan fails. Hunter has either become, or has always been, as protective of his family as Crosshair is stubborn, and he would never willingly subject his brothers (and now sister) to a life of committing abhorrent war crimes in the name of an Emperor who rose, uninhibited, to extreme and unnatural levels of power whilst abolishing the Republic of which they'd previously served. That’s not what their squad was made to do, despite Crosshair trying to convince Hunter perhaps maybe it was.
Unsurprisingly, Crosshair’s pitch falls on deaf ears, even despite killing his elite squad as an offering of trust. Once the training droids have been taken care of and the fray had subsided, Crosshair stands to find Hunter now has a blaster pointed directly at him, as does Wrecker— (Echo and Tech, curiously, keep their weapons pointed away), and the tables have quickly turned. Hunter begins his own plea to his brother, and it leads to a very ambiguous admission. Hunter: “Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s your inhibitor chip.” Crosshair: “Wrong. I had my chip removed a long time ago.”
What degree of this admission is true? All of it? Parts of it? None of it? Was Crosshair only told that his chip was removed during one of the apparently many augmentations he’d been subject to? Was it removed and replaced with an alternative? Or was it truly extracted, and his questionable actions have been entirely his own? If so, was it the fall of the Republic that spooked him enough to join the ranks of an unknown empire? Did the thought of disobeying orders bother him enough to sacrifice the family dynamic he’s always known, and replace it with a safe sense of conformity? And if this is the case, was missing all of the shots he’d aimed at his brothers, a veiled display of love?
Atop the water hours later, Tipoca City has fallen. Due to their imminent death, Crosshair and his squad have been forced to work together to survive. Tech makes a lingering comment about Crosshair’s unyielding personality being outside of his control, and it’s still ringing in our ears at this point because it implies that a lot of this misunderstanding may just be because of how strongly Crosshair forms opinions, and how only one of his brothers understands that about him. Omega is mid-drowning trying to save her droid friend, Hunter is .4 seconds away from leaping into Kamino’s frigid and turbulent waters to try and retrieve her… and we see Crosshair grab his rifle. This is a shot, of any, that I would expect him to miss— water both impedes and shifts the trajectory of a projectile and mathmatically accommodating for this would take some serious, well thought out calculation; the only usable light for aiming is from the burning remnants of their home, and the container in which Crosshair is perched heaves and tips with every wave.
But he doesn’t miss. He, again, demonstrates that he can make any and every shot he wants to. He lands his shot on AZI’s chest (not dissimilar to where he shot Wrecker, on an obviously smaller scale), and pulls Omega from the depths of the water. Upon turning to see his brothers poised and ready to shoot him if they deemed the need appropriate, I think Crosshair realizes how monumental the fracturing of their squad was. They have no trust left for him. His actions, powered by an inhibitor chip or not, quickly led them to believe he was not the person they knew him to be. As much as he desperately wanted to them understand how powerful the control of the chip was, they didn’t. And I think this moment robs Crosshair of some of his anger and resentment he harboured toward them, and reaffirms that his only option now is to follow the path he was first influenced to follow, regardless of if it’s what he wants now or not. He then chooses abandonment. He chooses to be left stranded on that platform, likely aware that the potential he’d perish there was high. His separation was now his choice.
Let’s move on to Season Two! Episode 3, appropriately named “the Solitary Clone”, indirectly shows us more about Crosshair than I believe any previous episode ever has. Crosshair’s marksmanship is, once again, on full display as he takes down an old separatist tank with one shot (I’m still reeling over it, ok? That shit made me horny). And I can’t move on from this episode without also mentioning how it ended— we know Crosshair has respect for Commander Cody, that was demonstrated by his willingness to follow Cody’s command while he rebuked others’ in the Skako/Anaxes arc. I think it’s also apparent by the return of his notorious sarcasm, that Crosshair is happy to see a familiar face, one of which he may have previously deemed a friend. Cody, in return, places tidbit of trust in Crosshair (I’m also going to link this post in case anyone is curious about my thoughts on Cody’s initial comments). Not only does the commander inch toward the precarious conversation about “going rogue” and the Order-66 debacle, but Cody lets Crosshair take the lead after their shuttle crashes on Desix. “Trust me,” Crosshair begs, and Cody accedes.
They gain access to the strong hold; Crosshair, Cody and Nova (RIP) struggle only mildly with the droid forces ("Droideka's."). Crosshair demonstrates more inhuman trigonometry abilities and immaculate skill by using those mirror pucks to shoot around corners. Cody saves Crosshair’s tushy when a Commando droid gets a little too close to the sniper. Crosshair lowers his weapon at Cody’s request while they negotiate with Tawny Ames, a motion he had otherwise refused earlier in the episode (the civillians they come across behind a closed door— Cody lowers his gun and reassures them, Crosshair does not.) And when the Empire shows its true colours by demanding that Cody renege on his promise of peace and assassinate the governor, Crosshair does not hesitate to answer the call.
Now superficially, this act would appear as nothing more than a repeat of his crimes on Onderon, or Crosshair simply “following orders” as he had previously developed into a sort of mantra. But I think it’s much more layered than that. I think Crosshair recognized that Cody would be subject punishment did he not comply, a notion reinforced by his extended time at Rampart’s elbow, where it was regularly displayed that clones were of little significane and use to this new military regime. What would happen to Cody as a result of his disobedience? Would he simply be demoted from Commander? Would he be court-martialed and questioned? Detained and imprisoned? Killed? Is this why Crosshair took action into his own hands, and “did what needed to be done”? To protect Cody from the repercussions of disobeying a direct order? Or, more harrowingly and something that I am more inclined to believe, was Crosshair protecting Cody from the poignant shame and self-hatred that he knew the Commander would feel if he DID comply? Was Crosshair unwilling to let the mind of another clone be tainted by the emotionless demands of the empire, so he took the action upon himself? Was his objectively unnecessary and cruel attack, an action of deep seated respect and appreciation? Is this why Cody's comment about living with the consequences of their decisions affects Crosshair so deeply as they separate at the end of the mission?
Let’s dial back to the debated intention of Crosshair’s shots— are his missed shots deliberately missed? Our next stop on this journey is The Outpost (my personal favourite, and not because of the dreamy, sardonic, bearded Commander Mayday), but because of the overt growth that we see Crosshair attain. (Here’s an analysis I posted a while back about some of the messages I think the writers were trying to convey via symbolism throughout Crosshair's episodes to this point). If you've read it and even partially subscribe to my theory, then we can agree Crosshair’s mentality has been shifting little by little since we saw him last, and his attachment to Mayday (and the adjacent benefit that Crosshair rediscovers in companionship and brotherhood) is proof of this. So here’s what happens— raiders make it inside the perimeter of the Outpost thanks to limited man-power and degrading equipment. Crosshair heads directly to where he knows he can play to his strengths: high ground. He’s taking quick and careful aim at the retreating insurgent when the nearby shuttle explodes, and something peculiar happens. Whether it be the blinding flash of the explosion magnified significantly by his riflescope that had caused him such immediate discomfort, or something more (chip alert? Maybe? Or residual effects of having it augmented so many times?), but Crosshair’s subsequent shot is not of his regular quality. He hits his target, so I am not deeming this as a shot missed, but Crosshair has a track record of “one-shots” or “kill shots” of which this is not.
I’m inclined to ramble on for centuries about this episode because there is simply so much development, growth, and symbolism that occurs in those 28 minutes— it’s truly a masterpiece in story telling, but I’ve deviated too far from the intention of this essay (novel) so let’s trek forward.
Let’s get to Tipping Point, and what I would deem to be his only failed shot (and the implications of what it might mean). Crosshair has been sedated, interrogated, injected, neglected, confused, and abused since arriving on Tantiss. (You guessed it, I also have an analysis of this episode, structured a little differently than my previous but still helps to break down what I deem to be the motives behind his actions). Hemlock first attempts to bribe Crosshair with his freedom in exchange for information on his brothers, and as such, divulges his true need for Omega. Crosshair, who has never really had the chance to bond with her like his brothers have, refuses to provide any information. And why? Having only a surface level relationship with Omega, and having rebuffed her advances for companionship several times, why would he protect her in the face of imminent chemical torture? Because it directly protects them, and they are no longer being hunted by a squad of recruited bodies lead by an angry brother... but by a twisted and cruel doctor who's methods were proven unorthodox and tortuous upon immediate introduction.
Upon awakening from another round of interrogation, Crosshair understands the time to act is diminishing quickly, as is his ability to refuse Hemlock the information he wants. Each interrogation leaves him physically and mentally weaker; the time is act is now. He shoots and kills the pair of troopers, as well as the interrogation droid, with no difficulty. He stuns Emerie the scientist (possibly recognizing her clone accent for what it is, thus opting not to kill her?), steals her access card, and stumbles from the room. His body is no where near recovered from whatever toxin that droid injected him with, and he staggers through the unknown halls. Quickly coming across a pair of troopers guarding a doorway, the next shot is the only one that I believe he truly missed, and understandably so. It lands on the wall between their heads, and Crosshair quickly realizing his failure, shoots them with the following two rounds.
While missing that shot is largely inconsequential to the overall story, I think it’s an important anecdote for his character growth. In that moment, Crosshair is both physically weakened and mentally desperate to get a message to his brothers, and it’s the combination of those that had his aim faulty. He’s found himself nothing more than a man broken… stripped of the celebrated titles he’d once possessed and mentally mined until simply raising and aiming a blaster, a motion he’d once found more innate as breathing, was a motion difficult for him. He's forsaken his family, lost his purpose, been rendered nothing but an experiment and a tool.
So to summarize this egregiously long essay of Crosshair’s character, I’d like to reiterate that he is human. As we all do, he has faults. A lot of his reasoning is arguably flawed. He makes poor decisions, often in haste without considering the ripple effect it may have. He is extremely stubborn, and he does not communicate well. And there are things he’s done and decisions he’s made that I can not personally elucidate and would love to openly discuss with other Crosshair enthusiasts (example, trying to incinerate his brothers in an ion engine— did he assume Hunter would double back again, and this is Crosshair’s attempt at forcing them into the open? Or is this one of the moments when he cannot fight off the chips control?). You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to agree with him or anything he says. You don’t have to like me or agree with anything I say, but as we head into the third and final Act of this remarkable story, it is worth determining which of his actions are superficially misunderstood, and which have a deeper meaning that a casual viewer might simply overlook.
Thank you for attending the Ted Talk that no one asked for.
Holly ♥️
**forewent the taglist as this is not my typical content
#Crosshair character analysis#character analysis#long post#starqueensrandomthoughts#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#tbb crosshair#Crosshair tbb#batch batch Crosshair#Crosshair bad batch#please don’t attack me lol
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Oh my- I loved your Regulus x Crouch!Reader so much 😭😭
Can you do one of Sirius meeting/discovering Reg is dating Barty's twin sister. Maybe with Barty being dramatic again, 'cause him being a Drama Queen when it comes to their relationship is perfect 💖
(We can pretend the Black brothers have a good relationship, please?)
regulus black x crouch!reader where you both are soulmates but aren't just made for each other (atleast according to sirius and barty)
It was a perfect afternoon by the Black Lake, with Regulus lying in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, content and peaceful. His eyes were closed, and he looked utterly at ease, which wasn’t something you often saw in Regulus Black. You were both so relaxed that the shuffle of footsteps didn’t even register at first—until a small, trembling Hufflepuff first-year appeared before you, looking as though he’d just delivered his own death sentence.
The boy gulped, holding out a folded piece of parchment. “Um, f-for you,” he stammered, and before you could thank him, he scurried off like a bat out of the Forbidden Forest.
With a sigh, you unfolded the note. Sure enough, in Barty’s unmistakable handwriting, it read: 5 PM. My dorm.
You rolled your eyes, showing it to Regulus, who gave you an amused, knowing look. “Looks like it’s time for another lecture,” he murmured, smirking as he took your hand to help you up. “Shall we?”
As soon as you reached Barty’s dorm room, you were greeted by the sight of Barty and Sirius standing in front like two dueling professors, each radiating pure drama. Remus and Evan sat on the bed with their arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed, but still showing up for moral support.
“Ah,” Barty said, clearing his throat and holding up an invisible microphone with great importance, “Lady and gentleman, you’ve arrived. Welcome.”
Before you could reply, Sirius charged toward you and Regulus, hands in his hair. “My little brother,” he cried, grabbing Regulus by the shoulders with a look of exaggerated horror. “Of all the people—my baby brother!”
“Calm down, Black!” Barty held out his hand in a grand, theatrical gesture. “Let’s handle this like the mature adults we are.”
“Right,” Sirius huffed, trying to regain some dignity as he nodded solemnly. “Like adults.”
Evan coughed, muttering something suspiciously like, “Since when are either of you adults?” but Barty ignored him.
“Now, for the purpose of today’s meeting,” Barty began, bringing the invisible mic to his mouth, “we are here to discuss the… situation.” He said the word like he was addressing a crime scene. “The subject of this meeting is none other than Regulus Arcturus Black and my dearest, beloved sister,” he announced dramatically. “Today, we will weigh the pros and cons of this outrageous relationship.”
Sirius nodded, looking proud. “Brilliant. Let’s proceed.”
You and Regulus shared a look, rolling your eyes in perfect sync, but Barty and Sirius either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.
“Pro number one,” Barty started, glancing down at a real, honest-to-Merlin list he’d scribbled out on a piece of parchment. “They are… academically compatible.”
Remus snorted, looking over Barty’s shoulder. “Barty, that’s barely a pro.”
“Excuse me, Remus,” Sirius cut in, waving his hand dismissively. “This is serious business. Real feelings are at stake.”
“Right,” Remus sighed, crossing his arms again. “My bad.”
Barty grinned proudly, moving on to the cons. “Con number one: Regulus is too punctual.”
Sirius gasped as if struck by a life-changing revelation. “Yes! And I hate to admit it, but that’s seriously unhealthy.”
Remus raised a brow. “But I’m punctual too—”
Sirius shot him a deadly glare. “Shush, Moony. You’re perfect.”
“Right,” Remus muttered dryly, sharing a look with Evan, who looked like he was barely holding back laughter.
“Con number two,” Barty continued, “Regulus never smiles.”
“True,” Sirius agreed, snapping his fingers. “It’s like he’s permanently moody! Bad influence material!”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Sirius ignored him, turning to Barty with a look of serious concern. “Barty, your sister deserves someone who smiles. Often. Like… Peter!”
Barty blinked, horrified. “Peter?” He shivered. “Let’s not get too carried away, Black.”
“Right, right,” Sirius agreed, looking relieved as he flipped to another page of their scribbled list. “Anyway. Pro number two: Regulus is, regrettably, very intelligent.”
“Thank you,” Regulus muttered.
“BUT,” Barty interrupted dramatically, “he’s also suspiciously quiet. This is concerning.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus, as if the quietness itself was a crime.
“Con number three!” Sirius interjected. “Regulus is obsessed with the stars. And he’ll probably try to convince you they’re interesting!”
Remus and Evan gave up all pretense and just rolled their eyes, sharing an exasperated glance that was almost affectionate.
“And what is wrong with astronomy?” Regulus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Everything, dear brother!” Sirius cried, clutching his invisible microphone. “Absolutely everything!” (please don't stress on the fact that sirius loved astronomy)
They continued on with their ridiculous pros and cons, listing everything from “too fond of black clothing” to “a penchant for reading way too much.” Meanwhile, you and Regulus exchanged more eye-rolls and smirks, trying to keep straight faces as the list got more absurd.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Barty concluded the presentation, tossing down his parchment. “So, as you can clearly see, this relationship is just—”
“—a disaster waiting to happen,” Sirius finished solemnly.
Evan sighed, leaning toward Remus. “Are we actually done here?”
Remus shrugged. “If we’re lucky.”
Before either Barty or Sirius could launch into a closing speech, you finally decided you’d had enough. “Thank you both for your… input.” You gave them a sweet, exaggerated smile. “I’ll be sure to let you know if we need any more valuable insight.”
“Exactly,” Regulus agreed, deadpan. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Sirius looked briefly wounded before turning to Barty. “Do you think they took this seriously?”
“Not in the slightest,” Barty replied, looking scandalized.
With a huff, he turned on his heel, marching toward the door with Sirius trailing behind, muttering about how they’d “try again later” if you didn’t break up on your own. As they disappeared into the corridor, Evan and Remus finally broke, bursting into laughter that echoed through the dorm.
Remus clapped a hand on your shoulder, still chuckling. “You know, I’m almost sad to see them go.”
Evan smirked, folding his arms. “Next time, maybe we’ll make a pros and cons list on them.”
Regulus’ lips twitched in a rare smile as he pulled you closer. “Now that’s a study session I’d love to attend.”
thank you so much for requesting, love! i had so much fun writing this 💕
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<- Sanemi simp posts masterlist
The Sanemi softober continues and this time it’s another heartbreaking one. Because I’m currently rewatching the Sanemi and Genya episodes and reading the novels.
Not proofread, just wrote and posted because I’m sad.
—
First of all, no big brother should have to bury his little brother… not after already burying his other siblings years ago right after killing his mother. Sanemi can still feel the weight of each one of his sibling’s and mother’s dead bodies.
Sanemi still remember the heart wrenching cries of Genya, his hand still clutching onto the cleaver while his eyes locked onto the scene before him. He knew his little brother’s words were nothing more than a child grieving, struggling to understand what truly was going on.
Once Genya had been taken away by neighbours who’d heard the commotion, Sanemi merely stood alone on the streets watching the kimono left behind after his mother. He couldn’t tell if this was all merely a nightmare and he’d soon be woken up by the soothing voice of his beloved Ma.
With heavy steps, his bare feet bruised and calloused from walking shoeless his whole life. Sanemi inwardly tells himself this isn’t real, nothings real.
Sadly it was all very real.
He gently place the corpses of his deceased siblings on a wooden carrier he usually used for his job. Once they were all loaded, he covers their pale and lifeless faces and makes his way to the forest. A small clearing, that’s where he chose to bury them.
A place which held a lot of precious memories, laughter shared. The perfect place for his family to rest in peace.
Koto, Shuya, Sumi, Hiroshi and Teiko.
Sanemi can’t remember if he even blinked once, his eyes dry and stinging. The tears shed has etched into his features.
At last, he pulls out the kimono his mom wore along with a hairpin he had bought her with his first allowance. He was five years old, too young to work, but when he learned he was going to be a big brother for the first time he wanted nothing more than to help her.
“I’m sorry, Ma. I’m sorry…”
He stares at the graves, kneeling before them as he pours his heart out. After mourning for hours, darkness once more fallen over him - Sanemi knew he had to do everything in his power to make sure he won’t be burying his last living family member too.
—
“Because my ‘Nemi… is… the nicest… person… ever…”
Those words echoed through Sanemi’s already traumatised mind, his hands trembling so hard he’s barely able to maintain a grip on the shovel. Despite digging graves before, this time it took much longer.
The grave needs to be bigger than the others and with his missing digits he also struggles. Careful to not cause his healing wounds to open up, Sanemi is careful to take a lot of breaks. At this point he’s sure he’ll never stop crying.
After hours, just as sun is setting he’s done. Done digging, done burying… just done. He feels empty, broken beyond repair and utterly alone.
“Sanemi?”
The familiar voice calling out to him pulls him back into reality. The reality where he’s kneeling before the graves of his loved one and holding his sword against his throat. For a moment he had been ready to end it all, so join his family again.
But then he’s reminded he’s not alone. He has you. You, the light in his life, the one who somehow manage to ground him amidst the chaos and grief. Your arms wraps around his kneeling form, hugging him from behind tightly and as you whisper soothing comforts into his ear, Sanemi barely notice how your hands gently remove the sword from his grip.
“They wouldn’t want that, Sanemi… for you to join them like that.”
He knows you’re right and he nods in response as he turns around, wrapping his arms around you and pull you into his lap. His tears soaks the collar of your shirt and you stroke his hair tenderly, placing series of kisses in his hair and hug him.
Sanemi’s voice is barely audible between his hitched sobs and shallow breaths. The grief is too much for one man to shoulder alone and you know that no matter how much love you give him, you’ll never be able to truly fill the void left behind. But that’s alright, because you will never run out of love and remind Sanemi the rest of your lives together.
“I miss them… so fucking much.”
He whisper hoarsely, the pain and sorrow in his voice breaks your heart and all you can do it just hug him tighter and hope Sanemi choose to not leave you behind and reunite with his family before his time.
#sanemi shinazugawa#Sanemi#shinazugawa sanemi#genya shinazugawa#kny shinazugawa#shinazugawa brothers#demon slayer shinazugawa#Shinazugawa#demon slayer sanemi#sanemi x reader
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. | Neteyam Sully
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : idk if u write pure angst but, but, but i have a request. what about a neteyam x fem!reader where whenever she is in danger he always manages to get there in time to save her? something like '2 times he's in time and 1 time he's too late' [or almost too late, if u r not in the mood for a bad ending] (?) sorry if this doesn't make sense, english is not my first language :((
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : neteyam x fem!omaticayan reader
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : hi! this request got so much love so here goes nothing. you didn't specify if you wanted the reader to be human or na'vi, so i picked what i thought would best flow with the narrative :3. i slightly deviated from what's canon in the film as well. sorry, this took so long to get out and some of the tags were not working. - once again, feedback is much appreciated. enjoy!! (also i highly suggest listening to waiting room by phoebe bridgers whilst reading this.. i would link it but they took it off spotify).
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, injuries, angst, fluff, character death, blood, some cussing, mild gore (descriptive fight scenes), neteyam sickeningly in lword, established relationship, sully family being <3333, heartbreak!!!!! reader is a badass warrior.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 8k words !1!1
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @eywas-library @ghoulbli @ellabellabus07 @loves1ckgirl @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @keijikunn @nijirozzz @eywas-heir @mymelodynumber1fan @kalims @bammtoli @blahehblah @iloveyomama44 @babamiasworld @rreyysol @stomach-bugg09 @xoxo-periwinkle-skies @23victoria @mashiromochi @grierpilots @buttercake2234 @bwormie @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @neteyamoa @gamorxa
𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 :
Thanator - or the Na'vi name Palulukan (meaning "dry mouth bringer of fear") is a carnivorous animal native to the forests of Pandora.
Yawntu - a loved one, lover, beloved person. This is commonly used as a term of endearment.
Woodsprites - or the Na'vi name Atokirina is a seed of the Tree of Souls that lives on Pandora. These seeds, according to the Na'vi, are very pure and sacred spirits.
Skxwang - a person who acts/is a moron or an idiot.
Mawey - a term equivalent to the human version of "stay calm/ be calm".
Awa'atlu - a Metkayina Clan village off the coast of the Eastern Sea.
Uturu - a Na'vi tradition stating that any refugee seeking sanctuary must be granted safe harbor.
Skimwings - or the Na'vi name: Tsurak is a Pandoran creature inhabiting the tropical oceans. The Metkayina clan and other reef clans use the Skimwing for hunting larger prey at the surface or to dive deeper. It is also used as a mount during combat.
Melìew - your mother's name in this story.
Olo'eyktan - the clan leader is one of the most important members of a Na'vi clan and is similar to a chieftain. The leader is in charge of the clan and may rule along with their mate.
Tsahìk - the spiritual leader of a Na'vi clan, and the most important member next to the clan leader. The job of the Tsahìk is to interpret the will of Eywa, guide the clan spiritually, and perform important ceremonies such as Uniltaron and, in rare cases, the consciousness transfer.
Tulkun - a large, intelligent marine species native to the oceans of Pandora. Each Metkayina member engages a lifelong bond with a tulkun early in their life, whom they call their spirit brother/sister.
Payakan - Payakan is a young tulkun who befriends Lo'ak, one of Jake Sully and Neytiri's children, after saving his life.
Neteyam and yourself were a force to reckon with. Your souls are intertwined and saved for one another. It was unspoken throughout the clan that you would be each other's mates when the right time came. An official seal, partners for a lifetime - even once your spirit settles with Eywa.
That's how it was supposed to be.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.
𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, he had been worried that due to his father's insistent training, he would have missed the date you'd planned. As he made his way through the clearing of your "secret spot", he immediately halted. Getting into a defensive stance as he reached for his bow and arrows.
You stood still, while a few meters away from you - a Thanator crept closer and closer. Y/n had not thought to bring her bow and arrows, only a hunting knife.
For once she had not thought to bring more protection, just wanting to be at peace with her favourite person. She didn't know she would stumble into any trouble, they weren't even that far from home.
In the Omaticaya clan, you were the most sought out for your hunting skills. But nothing could prepare you for this. While hand-on-hand combat was something you continued to learn from Toruk Makto, you'd only seen a Thanator in the wild very few times. You knew to never engage, hide and calm your breathing - do not make contact.
But it was too late for that now, wasn't it?
Neteyam's heart missed a beat, but the arrow he aimed at the Thanator didn't. It pierced through one of its legs. Letting out a ferocious raw as it barred its teeth at you both. He didn't stand down, shooting another arrow - this time sinking into its other leg.
The Thanator let out a low whine, its eyes calculating. Before pivoting and disappearing back into the jungle.
It was silent for a few moments, the adrenaline still ramping itself up in both your bones. Making your way over to him you brought him into a hug, leaning your head on his chest.
It felt like leaves had been shoved down your throat as you struggled to speak from the sheer shock. "Always my savior, thank you 'Teyam."
He scoffed, smoothing down your braids and pressing his lips to your forehead not letting up. He muttered against your skin, so gently.
"That could have gone a lot worse, yawntu." His eyes flittered around your surroundings, his ears perked up and tail swooshing in high alert still.
Squeezing his shoulders, you tried to ease some of his tension. Rubbing your nose against his, before taking a step back.
"But it didn't! My warrior, the mighty Neteyam Sully! The crowd goes wild, ahhhh!" You cupped your hands around your mouth, making a show of it all.
Rolling his eyes at your childish actions, he bent down retrieving what his dad called a "picnic mat" and the basket you had hand-woven for these special occasions.
"Come on, silly. Let's head back, the Thanator could still be around for all we know."
You pouted at his words, accepting the free hand he held out for you.
"What about our date?"
"We could do it at the stream closer to home."
"Okay fine, I can get behind that."
He ruffled your hair, admiring your feline-like eyes that squinted at the gleaming sun. Your nose scrunching at the force of it all.
Yeah, he'd never get tired of this.
His soul felt electrified whenever he was in your presence. You brought out a side of him that he concealed to try to live up to the mantle of "the golden child".
You were aware of the pressure and how tiring it made him feel. The demand was ultimately too much for someone as young as him to carry on his shoulders sometimes. But he looked up to his parents, and Y/n couldn't blame him for doing so.
He's your other half, and you'll always support him and his endeavors.
That's why you loved moments like these, not including the Thanator. But you felt reassured that he'd always have your back, as you would with his. It felt like second nature to you at this point.
Loving Neteyam.
This was the way of life for you both, and while it sometimes got a little messy - you always found your personal ways back to one another. Even when duty calls, even if you only catch glimpses of each other for a few days.
He would always leave a mark on you, whether it was the multitude of armbands he would weave intricately for you. The ones he'd whine for you to wear so your clan knew of his intentions as if they didn't already. Or perhaps a searing kiss full of yearning and a lifetime of promises.
Neteyam kept to himself a lot, due to his constant strenuous training he didn't mingle like other kids his age would. Sure maybe with the elders, but he didn't exactly have a core group of friends his age - only his family.
And you, you.
His normalcy amongst the ever so often brewing chaos. A semblance of ease always coursed through him even when you'd bask in each other's presence in silence. He greatly valued anytime he had with you, and when he wasn't with you. Neteyam would always think of you and worship the ground you walked on.
Like how you felt loving him was second nature, the thought of you circling his mind came as easy to him as the action of breathing.
That's who you are to each other, always filling in the cracks. Not leaving a rock unturned, words did not have to be spoken out loud to prove your inclination to one another. It was already written in both of your dispositions.
A devotion so boundless does come with conflict though.
But you didn't ponder on that for the time being, instead, you let Neteyam guide you back home. The date had yet to even properly start.
If only you knew he'd be called back to his duties as the chief's son.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.
This wasn't the plan. All Lo'ak had wanted to do was see some sort of wreckage that had been left behind from the war his father had led.
You were going to stay behind but Tuk insisted she wanted you to come with them, and that you had to join her. There was no way you could deny her cute pout and glassy amber eyes.
So you did just that, you accompanied them.
Time seemed to escape you all, too enthralled by what was left of the wreckage from what seemed to be a demon-flying mechanism of sorts that had been brought down. The foliage that surrounded you all as Woodsprites twinkled and fluttered with the soothing breeze.
After you all got back down from the tree and found Kiri, it was time to make the trek back home.
"We really need to head back before the Eclipse comes kiddos. Come on, move it! Let's go!" You mused, urging them to quicken their pace.
You halted as Lo'ak and Spider peered down at a large footprint.
"What is it?" Kiri insisted.
"We're always supposed to be home by eclipse", Tuk worried. Y/n patted her head in comfort as she looked down at the marking molded into the mud.
"That's way too big for a human", Lo'ak noted.
"Avatars?" Spider questioned in response.
"Maybe..." Lo'ak trailed off as he looked around him.
Lo'ak was suddenly determined to find out who they had belonged too. "They're for sure not ours."
"What are you doing?" Kiri inquired, confused as to why they were straying away from the direction that would guide them back to base.
"Shh, tracking." He controlled his steps as you all reluctantly followed him.
"This is ridiculous, I am not letting Neteyam take the blame for this one," Y/n stressed. Knowing somehow he'd try to put the baggage of this situation back on him.
Tuk mumbled Neteyam, under her breath, and smiled. Making you ease your worries and grin down at her. You loved the bond they shared.
You cursed to yourself as you crouched down behind some leaves. Staying vigilant, your grip on your bow tightened as you made sure to be hyperaware of any sudden noises surrounding you all.
Nervously you bit down on your bottom lips as you saw figures up ahead. Avatars in military gear? This isn't looking good.
Kiri sensing your worries, placed a hand on your shoulder as she looked at the Avatars as well. "We are never supposed to come here."
"Dad is going to ground you-", She continued whispering quietly
"Shhh, shhh."
"- for life!" You nodded your head in agreement as you flicked Lo'aks ear in annoyance.
"Ow!" He muttered quietly glaring at you, only to cower down at your fierce glare.
"Yo, we gotta go check this out," Lo'ak turned back around and said to Spider, nodding his head over to the infamous old shack. The place where the demon (Spider's dad) and Jake Sully had fought.
Y/n hissed at them, grabbing Lo'ak by his ear (again). He smacked her arm at the action.
"You two dipshits are really pushing it this time!" Y/n fumed, if she wasn't on edge before - she's definitely dangling over it now.
"It's going to be fine, we'll be on our own merry way before you know it! Now please, let go of my ear!" Lo'ak insisted, you rolled your eyes before letting it go.
She knew better than to put a stop to his actions because she simply couldn't. Lo'ak was an unstoppable force once he sets his mind on doing something.
Kiri groaned quietly. "Skxwang."
Your gut had a bad feeling about all this. This needs to be called in. They weren't like your people. Avatars that were carrying a lot of deadly weaponry. The ones that would come from the raids ordered by your Olo'eyktan. These people were dangerous.
Great mother, you gotta get out of here.
Keeping a close eye on Lo'ak and Spider, you whispered to Kiri and Tuk.
"Get ready to head out." They nodded at you, starting to realise the seriousness of this situation.
Lo'ak seemed to have read your mind, as they made their way back to the rest of you guys - he pressed his comms button attached to his upper neck.
He conversed with his father, telling him what he could see about the Avatars. Their location and who he was with.
You listened in with your own comms, one that Jake and Neytiri had graciously gifted to you.
Neteyam growled at the mention of your name and Tuk's.
"Y/n is there?" Neteyam asked through clenched teeth. The grip he had on his Ikran tightened turning his once blue knuckles almost stark white.
"It's going to be fine, yawntu. We're moving out." You tried your best to reassure him.
Neteyam looked at his parents, they could only nod at him to help him regain focus. Neytiri had only seen such worry cross her son's features very few times, she too knew this was a dire situation.
Neteyam closed his eyes for a short moment, processing. "Okay, we're on our way. I'm taking our shortcut."
Lo'ak looked at you in question, but you ignored it. Now is not the time.
"Hurry, let's go!" You ushered them out from the bushes, trying to head as far away from the old shack as you possibly could. You made sure to stay behind all of them, constantly turning your head to look back.
"We're all going to be in so much trouble!" Kiri spoke in a hushed tone.
Lo'ak turned to his sister. "Kiri, stop."
"Guys, come on!" Spider said.
Tuk looked back at you all. "It's almost Eclipse, come on!"
You were about to agree with Tuk before a pair of arms reached out from the hanging branches - grabbing onto her small body.
Her shrill scream immediately shifted you into the headspace you'd enter when on raids. Clasping your bow and arrow you aimed it at the unknown Na'vi. Before you could release the arrow, more of them popped out from the foliage surrounding you all.
Hissing, you put your backs against one another as they closed in on you guys.
"Put it down, put it down!" They ordered.
There was a lot of commotion, and you noted how they were speaking in English and not your native tongue. They definitely aren't from here, even if their bodies say otherwise. A lot of commotion was occurring, but your eyes never strayed from Tuks.
Lo'ak cautioned you all, "Guys. Put it down, put it down." He spoke in your language, you'll tell him how smart he is for doing so later.
You snarled but followed him. You knew there were too many of them, there was no way of getting out of this unless one of you got hurt. Trying to strategize you thought of ways to work yourself all out of this situation. But it was too late, they apprehended all of you.
"Mawey, Mawey." Kiri tried to calm Tuk down through all the yelling and sudden movements.
"Shut up, don't move!"
"What have we here?" One of them said. But he seemed different to the rest, more commandeering, and authoritative. He was the leader for sure.
It seemed Y/n's thoughts not too long ago predicted what was about to happen.
Before you knew it. You knocked your forehead into the Na'vi whose hand lingered too long on your waist and gripped tightly on your braids.
He retaliated by smacking your head with the barrel of his gun. Laughing as you fell to the ground, face being pushed further into the floor by the sole of his boot that he was wearing.
He chuckled, pressing down harder earning a grunt of pain from you. "We got ourselves a feisty one, would you look at that!" His comrades laughed and jeered at his comment.
Your friends though, oh they were livid.
"Y/n!" Tuk wailed for you, as Lo'ak did his best to not cause mayhem.
"Get up." You groaned as he anchored you up by your braids. Y/n looked at her armband through her blurry vision, reminding herself to not cause more of a scene. For she feared what she could lose.
"Mawey, Mawey, I'm alright." You choked out, continuing like Lo'ak to speak Na'vi.
"As I was gonna say before I was so rudely interrupted." The leader once again spoke. He looked at each one of you inquisitively, before one of his people showed him Kiri's hands.
These were the times you were grateful that the Sully children wanted you to learn english alongside them. You caught on to what they were assuming about Kiri. All of you did.
Y/n barred her teeth as the idiotic man once again yanked on Kiri's hair, feeling panicky as their leader approached Lo'ak.
He demanded Lo'ak to show him his fingers, only to get flipped off. You could only watch in pride, he truly was his father's son.
As he continued to nag at Lo'ak you could only ponder what they wanted from all of you, how could they know these were the children of Toruk Makto?
"No!" Y/n protested as he put a knife to Lo'aks neck. But the man holding her captive only strengthened the grip he had on her head of hair. You knew he wouldn't disclose his dads whereabouts, and they didn't need to know either that they were already on their way to help you all out.
When the leader spoke in Na'vi it took everything in your willpower to not mock him for how butchered his pronunciation was. These were definitely people from the sky.
"Get away from her!" Y/n screamed as Spider and Lo'ak joined alongside her telling him to get the hell away from Kiri.
As he spoke to Spider, your eyes met Kiri's. She worriedly glanced at your bleeding head from the gun being slammed into you. But to soothe her you simply mouthed that you were okay.
You were all going to get out of this, alive.
"Miles?"
"Nobody calls me that," Spider said in response.
Your eyes widened in realisation, as did Lo'ak and Kiri's. The man standing before you was Miles Quaritch, Spider's father who was supposed to be deceased.
The sky demon who raged war on your homeland, the one who had killed your father in battle.
You were not about to let him take away any more of your family. Y/n wanted to kill him. How dare he have a second chance at life, in a world like Pandora which he completely takes for granted?
Quaritch stands up, gazing around. "We are standing by for extract, over."
Extract? No, they aren't here yet.
Y/n struggled to fight against the tight hold on her as they started to move away from where they'd been ambushed.
"Let us go!" Kiri begged, pain evident in her voice. You could only shake your head at her, not wanting for her to receive the same brutal treatment you'd just experienced.
"Shut up!" The bald ugly one seethed. Demon trash.
As you were shoved to the ground you could only look up at the clear skies above you. Silently, Y/n prayed to Eywa in hopes they'd be rescued before it was too late.
࿐ ࿔*:・゚˳೫˚
Eclipse was nearing, and the gleaming sun was starting to fade away and rest for the night. You only wished you could do the same, but being held as a "viable prisoner" unfortunately hinders that.
But not too far from where you and the rest waited to be saved, there were three people who landed on a tree branch. Hopping off their Ikrans, they sought to do just that. To save the ones they loved most.
"You stay with the Ikrans," Jake ordered his son.
Neteyam could only shut his eyes in annoyance, his stance shifting to convey his determination. There was a fire burning in his eyes, and it wasn't going to cease any time soon.
"Dad, I'm a warrior like you. I'm supposed to fight," He urged. No, he pleaded.
He could not just stand here and tend to the Ikrans. The mere thought of doing so was agonizing enough for him. To wait for you and his siblings to return safely.
The boy could only let his fingertips brush against the choker you had made and gifted him only the night before.
"Neteyam," Neytiri understood her son's worries. But she already had more than enough on her plate.
Jake gave a slight shake of his head, "I won't say it again."
"But dad! She's-", He tried to counteract. Sway his parents somehow, his hands yearned for revenge. The anguish on the tip of his tongue, his bow weighing on his back like a ton of bricks.
"I know, son. And I will get her back too. Just, stay here." Jake sighed, placing his hand on Neteyam's shoulder for a moment.
Before Neteyam could try to rebut, his parents had already begun venturing off methodically.
"Yes sir." He muttered to himself, walking back over to his Ikran and placing a gentle hand on it.
He had to think of his own plan.
Meanwhile, the bioluminescence beginning to flourish right before your eyes made your heart stumble on itself. She didn't know who was going to arrive first anymore. Her saviors, or soon-to-be tormentors.
Your thoughts continued to remain astray as the rain pelted down on your skin. Y/n did not let it show how the water seeping into her open wound located at the side of her head had caused her immense pain. Instead, she clenched her jaw and continued to watch over her family.
Y/n's ears perked at the static coming from a set of comms, something, something. 3 minutes.
She had to resort to something else then, she has to devise her own plan.
Quaritch though, couldn't shake a feeling that something was awry.
"Watch our 6."
You tried to angle your head to try to watch over Spider and Kiri. Only to fall short at the harsh tug of your ear.
"Keep your eyes forward."
You glared into nothingness, Y/n had never felt so utterly disposable.
Neytiri could only watch on as she pressed herself further into the tree. She had a clear sight of all of you. Something untamed bubbled within her having to witness her children in such a vulnerable state.
Then you heard it, Neytiri's call. Sounding again and again. To any person it'd sound like one of the many animals dominating the jungle, but you knew otherwise.
Catching on to this, Lo'ak gave an affirmative nod to all of you.
It's time.
Kiri prayed to Eywa, hoping to assure her mother's safety in whatever was about to ensue. But you knew the cards had been dealt, now it was time for all of you to follow along.
Instantaneously a familiar arrow sunk into the head of the man who had been guarding Kiri and Spider.
"Contact made!"
Frazzled by the gunshots, you heard a faint call of Lo'aks name. Suddenly a green mist evaded your senses.
Y/n knew now was her chance to escape.
She felt it was only right to let karma be her bitch. As soon as the chamber of the gun the man who had been guarding Y/n had emptied. He maneuvered to replace it, but before he could get far enough - you played your card.
Grasping the front of the gun, ignoring the burn from the gunpowder. You slammed it into the perpetrator's chin, making him stumble backward. Closing your fist, you landed a punch to his face for good measure.
"Tuk, race. Y/n, come on!" Lo'ak yelled for you.
As you began to run towards him, a hand wrapped around your ankle making you propel onto the dirt beneath you. Groaning, you tried to crawl away far enough to push yourself up. But something had glinted in your peripheral.
Your knife. It must have dropped from whoever had them after Neytiri shot her first arrow. You'd thank Neteyam later for having polished your knife when he added new decorative beads to it.
Choking for air, your fingertips brushed against it but a sheer force pushed your arms away from it. You snarled in pain, having reached your limit with this pathetic demon.
Channeling everything you'd learned in all your training back with your clan, you ignored the searing ache. The back of your head met his face with a sharp force.
In his moment of weakness, you scrambled for your knife. This time successfully getting it in your grasp.
You crouched in a defensive stance before him, letting out a vicious hiss as you clutched onto your knife.
"You're gonna pay-", He started to say.
You gasped, both your eyes trailing down to the arrow now wedged in his chest. He could only let out a low groan, trying to advance toward you.
Only he went flying back, another arrow hitting him dead in the forehead. But they weren't from Neytiri.
Pivoting you let out something akin to a choked sob or heave, "Neteyam!"
There he stood strong and mighty as ever. Hidden amongst the nature the jungle provides.
He'd never heard you utter his name like that. The eldest son was so used to it leaving your plush lips in either a tone of endearment or humor. Always enraptured in strings of warmth and grace.
But the way you had just spoken his name, rooted him into the ground. Neteyam never heard you so debilitated, so disoriented. It made his skin crawl in agony.
The gunshots sucked him right back in. He lunged towards you, pulling you away from the mayhem.
"Na'vi!" Someone behind you hollered.
"Rot in hell!" Your scream was directed at your tormentor, you hoped he was still alive to hear those words.
Neteyam pushed you behind him, loading his bow. But before he could shoot again you both were tackled down by Jake.
"Go! Go! Go!" He shouted, pushing you two forward as gunshots rang out.
All of you found temporary solace behind a tree trunk, Jake's arm reached out checking over you both. His eyes widened at how beaten down you looked.
"Follow me! Ready? Ready!" Jake instructed you both. This time it wasn't training though, it was life or death.
Jake stepped out, firing a few bullets at the enemies.
"Move!" Jake bellowed.
You jumped into action, pumping your legs as you run. The chilled air wooshed in your ears and nipped at your cheeks. You hauled yourself over the roots of the trees engulfing you. Narrowly, missing the gunshots as you reminded yourself to not look back.
It didn't sit well with Jake how he was the one ahead and you two were behind him. "Come on!" He yelled.
Neteyam grabbed your hips, pushing you over an abnormally larger root than the rest of the others, understanding the pain you must be in right now.
He knew you were more than capable of getting over it. He just wouldn't be able to get over himself if you sustained even more injuries. It also gave him great comfort being able to see you right in front of him.
You don't know how long you ran for, only finally coming to a stop in a small clearing. Falling to your knees, you tried to catch your breath.
Neteyam had so much to say as he looked down at you, but he physically was in too much shock at the moment. So he chose to settle down beside you, bringing you into his arms carefully.
Jake brought you two once again - to a tree. There you leaned against it, waiting in silence for everyone else.
Soon the rustling of leaves grabbed your attention. Jake held a warning hand to you both, signaling you guys to stay put.
Lo'ak and Tuk made their way to you guys. Giving each other tender hugs, you graciously thanked Eywa for keeping them safe.
As Lo'ak leaned his head on your shoulder, he mumbled an apology to you.
"I'm so sorry for leaving you behind. Tuk was terrified, and I had to get her out of there."
You patted his head, allowing him to lean back and look at you.
"You did what was right, Lo'ak. I have no ill feelings toward you. I'm just grateful you're both okay." Y/n reassured him, as she kissed Tuk on the forehead.
Movement suddenly came from behind you, Jake pushed you and his children behind him - again.
Breaking out from the foliage was a worrisome Kiri and Neytiri.
"Mom!" Tuk cried, running to them. You sluggishly followed her.
Neytiri brought you, girls, into a hug as she too thanked Eywa numerous times that you were all here. She'd never had a reminder as harsh as this.
What she could have just lost.
Neteyam gravitated towards you after Jake embraced both him and Lo'ak.
He looked over at you, eyes and hands trailing.
"We need to get you patched up, grandma can help." He whispered to you, hands hovering over your bruised face.
Inwardly, Neteyam was seething. So many rhetorical questions were prodding at his brain. How you were already wounded when he first saw you? What else had they done to you?
Y/n crooned - "No, no. I'm fine, I'm okay."
"You are not!" He grunted.
His eyes looked dazed, far away. Neteyam was still in a state of terror. Not only had his siblings been put in danger, but his partner in crime as well. His person, was right in the thick of it.
He didn't want to linger on what could have happened if he and his parents came any later. He didn't want to fathom the thought of not just Spider being abducted, but all of you as well.
If his arrow had missed, if anything had gone remotely wrong...
As if you could read his mind, somehow capture his thoughts. Your thumb brushed over his cheek. Your other hand moving to cradle the back of his head as your hand sunk into his braids. Treading your fingers through it you leaned your head against his.
"I'm right here, Neteyam. We're all going to be okay."
Neteyam could only nod as he brought you into another longing embrace.
He'd do whatever it takes for you to stay by each other's sides. Whatever it takes, he will always protect you. Even when he is gone from this world, he vowed to himself right then and there - that he'd still look out for you.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.
Awa'atlu grew on you over time. It took a while, a lot of adjusting, and taking new things in stride. But you made it this far now, and you felt like maybe this place was truly becoming your home.
It truly felt like a juxtaposition, from the forest - now to the water. Somehow it brought you comfort, Eywa constructed such beautiful places. The community around you, while hostile at first - was also beginning to warm up to all of you too.
Alongside your mother, you had followed the Sullys as you seek out a new place that would hopefully grant you Uturu.
It was truly a challenge, having to stay hidden to keep the people back in your clan safe. You knew it was the right call.
But now the tides were pulling themselves in, dread encompassing the place you were still trying to gain more understanding of.
Your luck was running thin. All you wanted to do was help Lo'ak save Payakan. To be there for your people, your new clan.
It seemed the world had other plans though.
Now you were stuck on the demon ship. Handcuffed to the rails alongside Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Tuk. Snarling you checked the restraints out, you realised you'd have to cut into it to be released. Dammit.
"Be brave," Lo'ak tried to remain optimistic.
Y/n could only hope that Neteyam had gotten back to safety far away from all this.
All your ears perked up, hearing the distinct calls of the Metkayina clan. You could see them in the distance flying on their Skimwings towards the ship.
"Na'vi inbound!" Someone yelled.
"Push left, spread out." Another commanded them.
Tuk had faith, they were all going to get out of this alive. "Dad," she called out to him.
"It's Sully."
Quaritch ripped the comms off from Lo'ak as the Metkayina came to a still in the water a few hundred yards away from you all.
"Jake, tell your friends to stand down. If you want your kids back, you'll come out alone." Quatrich asserted, grasping his gun and pressing it to the side of Lo'aks head.
Tsireya and you yelled for him to stop, whilst Tuk began to cry.
"You know better to test my result."
Y/n wished she could listen in, but she looked around for her mother instead. She noted how Neytiri and Melìew were nowhere to be seen. Must be up in the sky, hovering.
Quaritch was running out of patience, he moved the gun to your head instead.
"She took one of ours, maybe it's time to take one of yours. Like I said, do not test me!" You held your breath, trying not to make any sudden sound or movement.
Your blood ran cold, Y/n did not want to die this way. Especially not now, not when she has so much more reasons to live and experiences to fulfill.
Through gritted teeth, Quaritch challenged Jake. "Do I make myself clear?"
He stepped back, the weight of the gun easing off your head. Y/n looked on to where Jake and the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk were having a heated discussion.
It gave you a moment to ponder on Quaritch's words from before. She hadn't killed one of the sky people. But Neteyam did.
In the midst of all the fighting, it must have looked to them like it had been her doing. Whatever, that was the least of her worries at this time being.
Quaritch once again spoke to Jake through the stolen comms. "Offers beginning to expire. What's it gonna be?"
Y/n looked to Lo'ak after hearing him curse quietly, following his eyes you saw his father pushing on - alone.
"Easy shot." One of the fake Na'vi beckoned.
"You hit him now, they attack. Wait until he's on board."
Lo'ak and yourself let out frustrated groans through harshly gritted teeth. You were defenseless.
Abruptly water shot up as a familiar looking Tulkun shot out from beneath the ocean.
"Payakan", Tuk yelled out.
Water rained down on you all as he launched himself on top of the ship. You watched in astonishment as he wreaked havoc.
"Argh!" You grunted, pushing a nearby soldier to Payakan. Lo'ak mimicked your actions as he called out for his brother.
"Yeah!" Lo'ak whooped.
"Holy shit," You gaped as Payakan deflected the harpoon and dove back into the ocean.
The sound of gunshots had your ears ringing as you watched the Metkayina charge at the sky people. Sighing in relief as you saw your mother on her Ikran flying side by side with Neytiri.
Y/n could only observe as the sky people hopped on their own Ikrans and flew upwards. While everyone fought each other you used this to your advantage, trying to break free from your restraints.
Neytiri and your mother flew over the ship, looking down at their children in horror. Both of them shot arrows into the gunships that attempted to fly into the battle.
The ship suddenly jerked, before moving at a far faster pace. Shrieking as you were suddenly suspended in the air, before knocking back down onto the ship.
Water sprayed at all of you on impact. Lo'ak let out a pained groan as he pushed himself up, kicking at the rails.
"Are you okay," he asked all of you. You all nodded, before following his motions and kicking the rail as well.
Alarms sounded all around the ship. You needed to get out of here.
Suddenly, Tuk gasped gleefully. "Neteyam!"
Your head whipped to the side, distracted by pushing at the railing.
He held a knife in his head, grinning - "Hey baby brother, you need some help?"
"You're ridiculous," Y/n mused. Her heart soared at the sight of her boyfriend unharmed.
"Shut up, come on!" Lo'ak replied, looking over his shoulders to see no one was paying attention to them.
He quickly cut Tsireya out of her restraints, and moving onto Tuk he did the same.
Now it was your turn.
He gazes into your eyes, fighting off the instinct to caress your face. Cutting you out of your restraints, he could finally breathe easier. His hands hovered over your wrists seeing the angry red marks that now tainted your deep blue skin.
He looked to Tsireya and you, "Get tuk out of here."
Nodding, you grasped onto Tuk's arm running to the edge of the ship. You turned around as Neteyam stumbled towards you, eyes squinting seeing Lo'ak had rushed the other way.
"Lo'ak!" He called for his brother, making his way back to him as the younger brother grabbed a gun. You watched them bicker back and forth, rolling your eyes at their idiotic antics.
"Tsireya go, we'll meet you there," Y/n said as she took her knife out.
"No, Y/n!" Tuk pouted at you.
Leaning down you kissed her forehead, "I'll be back soon".
Y/n nodded at Tsireya before making her way over to the two Skxwangs.
"Come on bro, we can't leave him!"
You tugged on Neteyam's arm, "What's going on?"
"We've gotta get Spider!" Lo'ak exclaimed.
Y/n tilted her head up to meet Neteyam's eyes. He look troubled, but he knew if he didn't follow - Lo'ak would venture on this mission by himself.
It's just, something felt off.
You knew in those few seconds, Neteyam had the same gut feeling you did. It wasn't that you didn't want to save Spider, but the circumstances of everything were already against you all. Y/n had a terrible feeling about this, and the last time she had this feeling was at the Old Shack.
But you weren't going to leave them behind. Looking around, you also decided to pick up a gun.
Neteyam, realising the intent of your actions fought against them weakly. "No, go with Tuk."
You stared him down. He knew you already made up your mind.
Sighing, he pushed you in front of him. Each of you crept further into the ship, jumping on a nearby wall and climbing to the ceiling.
Y/n tuned out the sounds of the people running beneath her frantically. Choosing to continue to move along.
The three of you made your way onto some sort of connecting platform. Lo'ak put a finger to his lips, before pointing down below. Neteyam and Y/n peered over the edge, seeing Spider being guarded by multiple men.
As they rounded the corner, Neteyam signed "Jump down when I do".
In a matter of seconds he leaped down, you and Lo'ak closely following behind. You pushed one of the men into the nearest wall, immediately slicing his throat.
A hand came at your shoulder and gripped it harshly, but you quickly grabbed it as you turned around. Slamming the man into the ground you leaned down, holding the man's head - you stabbed your knife in his chest.
As you got back up, Neteyam suddenly pushed you out of the way. He grabbed the man who was charging at you and threw him down the ship.
Silence. Your adrenaline had your hands shaking, but before anyone could say a word - one of the men got up grasping his gun.
Lo'ak bet him to it, firing a bunch of rounds and shooting the man down.
Your eyes widened in shock, "Bro come on", Spider called.
Neteyam put his hand in yours, examining his brother.
"Let's go."
Neteyam tugged you along, jumping down as you all tried to figure out a way to get off this ship.
Spider thanked you all, but you saw Quaritchs right-hand man in the near distance.
"No!" Neteyam shouted, aiming the gun Lo'ak was pointing at him down to the ground. Shots were fired at you all as you crouched down rushing away from the henchmen.
"Give me that," Neteyam grabbed his gun whilst you held yours. You both peeked out, as you reached a corner. Firing in the general area the bullets were coming from.
"Go, Go, Go!" You and Neteyam yelled at the two boys.
Y/n checked behind them, witnessing them successfully leaping off the ship.
"Go, Neteyam! I am right behind you." Y/n urged, continuing to shoot at the men.
A deep guttural growl escaped him.
He wanted to complain, but the sound of more gunshots cut him off before he could do so.
He headed in the same direction Lo'ak and Spider had gone. Jumping into the ocean, he waited for you.
You looked to where the men were reloading the guns. It was now or never.
Right before you moved to leap as well, someone suddenly body-slammed you. Screaming at the impact, you desperately tried to reach for the gun that got knocked out of your hands.
A soldier held you down, and the bubble gum she had been chewing - popped. Giving you a deathly glare she dug her fingernails into your skin, drawing blood.
Y/n squirmed as she tried to resist and fight her way out of her deathly grip.
"You killed a good man in the woods. Like Colonel said, you took one of ours." She spat at you.
Any response you could have uttered was cut off by your own knife being plunged into your lower chest.
Y/n wanted to scream, to do anything but succumb to the faith that had just been handed to her. But the pain was excruciating, nothing like she'd ever felt before in her entire life.
"Rot in hell." She sneered at you.
It sounded ironic. The words you had screamed in a moment of triumph, resinated bitterly now.
She rolled you, pushing you over the edge as you plummeted into the water.
Struggling to stay afloat, all you could hear was your friends and lovers muffled cheering. Y/n could only smile to herself, at least they were all okay.
Everything else began to blur from then on, you remember them realising you were wounded. How Neteyam had never looked so disoriented in his life.
Oh, how the situations have flipped.
This wasn't the plan.
How dare he jump for safety and leave you to die? It should have been him.
"N-Neteyam." You choked out, your chest rising up and down rapidly. Y/n was grappling to stay afloat as her own hand tried to cover her stab wound.
Neteyam's heart shattered at the sight of you as he held you above water. "Shhh, save your energy. You're going to be just fine."
He took you away from prying eyes, keeping a lookout as he called for his Ilu. Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Spider were right behind him.
"Bro, we can take her to that rock over there." Lo'ak pointed, not too far but enough distance to separate you all from the sinking ship.
Neteyam nodded, continuing to hold you upright and letting you lean on him.
It felt like a million years, his entire lifetime seeming like it passed before reaching the rock.
With the help of everyone else, they lifted you on it, carrying you and settling you down.
"Watch her head, watch her head," Neteyam repeated. Pushing wet hair strands away from your face that was scrunched up in discomfort
"That could have gone a lot worse, yawntu." You quietly said.
Neteyam's smile was grim, suddenly taken back to your date in the jungle that had been interrupted by that mighty Thanator and his own personal duties back at home.
"Huh, yeah. It really could have. But it didn't" Neteyam stuttered out.
His chuckles that followed his words were forced, vision going murky at the tears that threatened to burst through his facade.
He knew even as Tsireya stuffed the stab wound with moss from the rock it was too late. There was too much blood, so much blood. For the very first and last time, he was too late.
Too late to save you, and now he didn't know what to do.
Your end is near.
Before there was an opportunity to aid you. To get you to safety - to save you from harm's way. But this time there was absolutely nothing he could do. He'd never felt so openly inferior.
All he could do was let Eywa retrieve you peacefully.
Your cries of pain tore into him, tears gushing down your face as he hushed you and tried to wipe them all away.
It devastated him to know there wasn't any way for him to feel your pain. He never wanted this to ever happen to you.
He truly thought that this move away from all the danger and war had bought you both more time.
He was a fool for thinking that life would bestow that upon him.
The sudden wooshing of Ikrans wings mingled in the tense air as Neytiri and Melìew landed on the rock. Jake, hopped off his Skimwing.
"Oh great mother, no! My daughter, my daughter!" Your mother wept as she fell onto her knees by your side.
Neteyam gripped your hand, squeezing it in reassurance.
"Mom, I did it. I'm truly a warrior." You struggled, your breath seeming to escape you quicker than you thought.
"You silly girl. You always have been. You always will be." Your mother soothed you, her hands holding your face and caressing your hair.
You meekly smiled at her, looking at everyone who surrounded you. Neytiri silently cried as Jake held her in his arms. It gave you a sense of comfort, through the pair - you saw yourself and Neteyam.
Y/n glanced at Jake, "Thank you for everything."
Jake could only bend down, pressing a hand to your leg and giving it a squeeze. He had so much to say. How wonderful you are at everything you do. The way you gave every training lesson your all. And the way you treated his son. But he had a feeling you already knew.
Neytiri moved to the free space above your head, gripping onto one of your mum's hands as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.
You would always be her honourary daughter, and she knew she was about to lose you. All she could do now was be here and try to give you some comfort.
"Neteyam?"
"Yes, Y/n?" Neteyam peered down at you, and you returned his gaze.
"Are we going back home?" She whispered.
He could see the light he adored so much fading away from Y/n's eyes. The faint wheeze in your breathing, and your skin losing its colour.
"Yeah we are, we're gonna finish that picnic date. You gotta prepare your basket okay? Don't forget the picnic blanket." His tears were free-falling at this point, but he no longer had the willpower to care about saving face.
All he cared about at this moment was you.
Numb to the feelings consuming your body, Y/n's smile widened. “Okay 'Teyam, can we bring our Ikrans?"
Neteyam forced himself to nod, keeping his tone of voice upbeat. "You bet, Y/n. I'll even race you."
You coughed as you giggled. Neteyam's frown deepened, as he cradled your face.
For the very last time, you nuzzled into the warmth his open palm provided. Taking in his faint yet distinct scent of salt and nature.
Peace poured into your heart and soul.
"I'm gonna win. and I'm always going to love you. I love you, and your wonderful family. I love you, I see you." You rambled, truly hoping you conveyed your last words well.
"I will always see you," Neteyam murmured, taking all of you in as well.
And then the light faded.
Tsireya was the first to realise this, she looked down at your blood coating her hands as she started to cry. Lo'ak held onto her, and Neteyam - knowing damn well he was about to need it.
"Y/n? Y/n. Y/n!" Neteyam wailed out a gut-wrenching cry for help.
He couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't come to terms that you were no longer here.
You were with the great mother now.
"No, Y/n. Please! Come back to me!" He leaned his forehead on yours, closing his eyes tight. He prayed that when he'd open them, this would all be a ruthless lie.
That you'd be able to actually go on that other date. Live on to be each other's mates in the eyes of Eywa. To be able to witness and create a family of your own.
You'd be able to grow and flourish. Together.
His hopes and dreams were crushed the moment your last breath escaped you. Anguish and rage now consumed him.
They took you away from him. Robbed him of a life that was supposed to be spent being by your side, your eternal protector.
As his eyes opened, yours stayed the same.
His fingertips flittered over them, before closing your eyes.
Neteyam could no longer bare to look at what he had lost.
His soul, now as empty as your weightless gaze.
The cries of his family and your mother echoed in his ears, yet he maintained a tight hold on your cold hand.
This couldn't have gone any worse.
But it simply had. And now you were gone.
One with the ocean, one with the sea. Neteyam liked to think and believe they had welcomed you in harmony.
𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑
⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡
#junie's library 📚✧.*#avatar the way of water#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam sully#neteyam sully x reader#atwow#avatar imagine#avatar x reader#atwow spoilers#avatar 2#avatar fanfiction#avatar#dude i literally. cried while writing half of this. i really hope you guys enjoy this and give it a lot of love :')#୨୧ ⁓ junie's corner ⁓ ୨୧#like u have no idea how much thought 🧠🧠 i put into this whole beast of a story..
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“…She started to bring us back from the dead after her friends left.”
Lucy Frostblade my Beloved
Damn so that forest scene huh
#I stg if she ends up being some kind of big bad#dimension 20#fantasy high#fantasy high junior year#art#d20 fanart#d20 fhjy#fanart#fantasy high fanart#lucy frostblade#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#d20
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here forevermore
in which both, you and paul, start to slowly realize that perhaps your marriage isn’t just a political proposition, but something more. [2.2K]
or ↬ act iii of the remember, beloved extended universe.
warnings. the tiniest bit of angst if you really squint, my take on the arranged marriage, she fell first but he fell harder as well as the strangers to lovers tropes, idiots in love (like, god!! just get on with it already!!), mentions of fighting, mentions of a height difference (paul is taller than reader), mutual pining, paul wearing the atreides family ring even though he isn't a duke yet because it fit the scene, not proofread, let me know if i missed anything!
It’s raining.
The skies adorned with nothing but a thick veil of muted grays, a mist smoothing over the grounds of Castle Caladan with a touch soft, almost feather-light. The endless dark green that is the forest that stretches over Caladan bending time after time again, moving to a harmonious rhythm -- the branches of the trees heavy with moisture, droplets of water sliding down the leaves, glistening like a thousand little jewels whenever being kissed by the few beams of light that make it through the clouds.
The afternoon falling into the embrace of late evening, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. Something in your head telling you to go outside -- a promise of sorts, it almost feels to be, for you find yourself soon standing on a balcony that is made of nothing but thick, dark stone. Eyes locked to the far horizon, the promise being carried out as the scent of the saltwater and wet soil somehow does ease your mind -- somehow does carry a part of the burden that has been set upon your shoulders by the way of the world.
This is where Paul finds you.
With your arms wrapped around yourself -- perhaps in an attempt to keep yourself warm, he thinks, or perhaps in search of finding even the faintest trace of something like comfort in the midst of the chaos that is the life you share with him. With the hem of your dress dancing to a rhythm set by the ocean breeze, moving around your legs like a living thing.
The quiet thumping sound that is to be heard whenever the soles of his shoes come in contact with the stone flooring pulling you from your thoughts -- getting you to glance over your shoulder, only for your eyes to catch a sight of your now husband walking towards you.
He looks nice. Wearing his military dress uniform, nothing but dark green fabrics stretching over his frame. The raven of his hair a little tousled, yet still nice -- him having spent the better part of the day running his fingers through it time after time again evident in the way there are now a few, unruly curls veiling his eyes. And really, you can’t help but think it just then -- think about how he truly does look every bit worthy of the title of Duke he will inherit one day.
“Hi,” he says.
“Paul,” you greet him back, his name not the odd taste on your tongue it was back then, all those months ago, when you let it fall from your lips for the very first time in the training room of Castle Caladan, but rather a taste you have grown familiar with -- a taste you are starting to realize you actually like, rather than it being something you’re wary of.
Holding his shoulders nice and square, his hands behind his back, Paul comes to stand beside you. Fixing his gaze upon the picture that opens before him, vast and ever-expanding -- a picture that is so very familiar to him, a picture that is still fairly new to you.
For a little while, the two of you sit in silence. And it is quite a nice moment, actually. Two people, bound together not by choice but by duty, standing beside one another, listening to the roars of the ocean, to the cries of the wind.
“It’s beautiful,” you then say, your voice quiet -- just barely over a whisper. Your eyes never leaving the far horizon, for you are not quite sure if you’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as the oceanic planet of Caladan on a day such as this before. “Different, sure. But beautiful.”
Paul glances at you, his eyes searching your features. The little that is the light that is able to push through the clouds a faint glow on your profile -- a soft kiss planted on your forehead, on your cheek, on the bridge of your nose.
“You must miss home,” he says, something in his tone sounding almost as if he was feeling sorry for you -- as if he was grieving with you. Maybe in some ways, he is.
You hum -- a quiet, barely audible thing. A hint of a soft smile washing over your lips as you admit, “I do. So much.”
You don’t notice it yourself, but Paul does -- notices how you lift your hand up slightly, just enough so that you’re able to brush your fingers over the small, golden pendant that sits right there, in the spot where your collarbones are only inches away from meeting once, then twice. Your family’s house crest engraved onto it, the heirloom all proud and ancient-looking, glistening under your fingertips as it rises high only to fall low time after time again, moving to the steady rhythm of your breathing.
Paul doesn’t notice it himself, and neither do you, but behind his back, he runs his thumb over the Atreides family ring that sits snug around his index finger.
Amusing, how those two heirlooms are the very reason behind why the two of you are here now, standing beside each other, looking over Caladan. The pendant, the ring -- neither of them nothing more than a mark of the burden the both of you carry upon your shoulders; a reminder of how both of your lives were dedicated to something much greater than yourselves long before you were born.
Paul doesn’t say anything -- truth be told, he isn’t sure if there even is an appropriate thing to say to that. Another silence stretching in between you, a second turning into a minute, a minute turning into five.
The silence not uncomfortable by any means, but rather quite the opposite. Something warm lingering in the air whenever it is just the two of you, for throughout the months you have lived alongside each other, you and Paul both have learned that though none of this is ideal, you are still lucky to have found each other -- lucky to have found a place of mutual understanding; a place of some sort of solace, almost, within each other.
“I saw you today,” Paul then says, not tearing his eyes away from the horizon. “Fighting with Gurney -- you bested him.”
A smile climbing onto your lips -- a soft and subtle thing. “Beginner’s luck,” you say, giving your head a slight shake. “I count myself lucky.”
Paul hums. Turning his head towards you, the emerald of his eyes searching for the infinity of yours as he asks, “Who taught you to fight like that?”
Your eyes meeting his, a few, tiny little crinkles settling to adorn their corners as the smile you’re wearing stretches a little wider. “My father,” you tell him. And really, it’s nice -- the two of you talking like this. Slowly letting your guards fall down, slowly letting each other in. “He’d train me and my brothers every morning before dawn; he thought it necessary for his children to be able to hold their own.”
I can hold my own, Paul recalls you telling him that night in the training room, when he met you for the very first time, it being just the two of you.
Paul smiles down at you. He likes it when you talk about your family, he notices -- likes to listen to you talk about all the things that have molded you into the person that you are today; into the person that is now standing just right there, beside him.
“A wise man,” he says.
You nod. “Very much so.”
The ocean breeze pushing through the little that is the distance in between you and Paul, gentle yet rough. Raindrops on its back, traveling through the skies -- one of them landing on your lashes, too. Something inside of Paul telling him to reach out and catch it; let it slide along the skin of his thumb, all the way down until he feels it land on the palm of his hand.
He doesn’t get the chance to do so, for you are already blinking once, then twice -- the raindrop soon nothing more than a faint trace of something wet on your cheek.
“You know,” Paul then starts, his tone laced with something warm, something sincere. “You’re not what I expected you to be like.”
The smallest quirk of your eyebrow as you ask him, “Yeah?”
He nods.
“How so?” you go on to question further.
You’re easy to be around, Paul thinks. You’re easy to talk to. You understand me. You don’t push, or pressure. You let things be -- which is not something that I can say about most of the people I know.
And yet, though there is so much he could say to you -- so many things that he knows he probably should say to you, one day sooner or later --, he settles with, “I don’t know. You just are.”
You hum, a smile blooming on your lips. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
Paul nods again -- a small gesture, perhaps, yet still plenty enough to let you know that he meant what he said as such, and nothing less.
For a mere moment in time, his gaze drifts back towards the horizon. The ocean foaming below him, raging as it is being tossed around by the gusts of wind. The crests of its waves a little whiter now, for the waves seem to only grow bigger each and every time they round to lap the shore.
A storm is coming, he thinks.
Somewhere far in the distance, a bird cries.
“You’re different from what I imagined you’d be, too,” you then say.
Paul’s eyes find yours again. “I am?”
“Mhm,” you confirm.
And though he knows that it’s probably pointless, for he didn’t provide you with an insight to his mind either, he tries anyway, “In what sense?”
You beam up at him, a hint of something playful twinkling in the corner of your eye as you go on to mirror his earlier response, “You just are.”
What you think, but don’t say, is, You don’t expect anything from me. You don’t try to make me fit into the mold that this world casted for me long before I was even born. You let me be.
You welcomed me into your home, took me in with open arms. You let me wander around the premises that are all you’ve ever known, whenever I please -- tell me that this castle is not only your home now, but mine too, and that there is not a singular corner of it that I’m not allowed to round.
You showed me the library. You let me borrow your books. You told me about your favorite one, too -- your eyes shining under the faint glow of the setting sun that one evening, when you placed the book on my hands and told me it’s for me to keep. And I remember I thought about it just then, when I held the book close to my chest; I could be happy like this, with you.
You listen to me. You’re interested in what I have to say -- encourage me, even, to speak my mind whenever, wherever. And I do speak my mind these days, which is something I have spent most of my life not doing, for something in the way you look at me during the endless meetings concerning the matters of Caladan makes me feel more strong, more brave than I think I’ve ever felt before.
And for a little while, the two of you just stand there, carefully eyeing each other. In the embrace of the approaching storm, droplets of water falling upon the two of you just every now and then, when the wind manages to toss them far enough -- a few of them landing on the constellations that are the freckles on the bridge of Paul’s nose, a few more on the highs of your cheeks. Words unspoken sitting just right there, on the very tips of both of your tongues, threatening to escape your lips at any given moment.
“Just so you know,” Paul then says, something etching across the endless green of his eyes -- something that you don’t think you’ve ever seen there before. “I’m glad it’s you.”
That same something that you’re seeing in his eyes as he looks down at you, his gaze unwavering, now to be felt all around you; it washing over all that is your very being, nearly dissolving you whole as it urges you to take a step closer to him -- urges you to try something new.
And so you do.
Your feet closing the distance in between your bodies, your toes pushing you up towards him. Your hand finding place on his chest, your palm pressing gently against that one spot just right there, where his heart lays underneath. The tip of your nose brushing against the tip of his just so, as you say, “I’m glad it’s you, too,” -- a soft musing; just barely audible over the roars of the ocean, the howls of the wind, the weeps of the sky. Your lips then pressing against the corner of his mouth -- a warm and wet thing, that will linger there, even long after your lips are gone. “Paul Atreides.”
author's note. a short and sweet thing! i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a while now -- i wasn’t quite sure if it was ever going to see the light of day since i didn’t really know how to incorporate this scene into an actual chapter, but hey here we are and now it’s a lil one shot, hehe. thank you for reading! please let me know all your thoughts! kisses! ♡
#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides x f!reader#paul atreides x fem!reader#paul atreides x you#paul atreides x yn#paul atreides#paul atreides imagine#paul atreides fic#paul atreides fanfic#paul atreides fanfiction#dune imagine#dune fanfic#dune fanfiction#dune x reader#dune x you#timothée chalamet#timothée chalamet x reader#dune#dune movie#dune part one#dune part two#my writings
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